#note: he can still drink as much beer as he wants. and still drinks all that wine after dinner anyway. and has a success rate of very bad
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just had my dad admit to me that even though he's fully aware of how much his alcoholism hurts me and my mum and brother he refuses to quit drinking outright because he likes it. cool
#im so sick of this shit. cant wait to move out#his current method if youre interested is to only drink wine after dinner. so that hes not pissed drunk at the dinner table#note: he can still drink as much beer as he wants. and still drinks all that wine after dinner anyway. and has a success rate of very bad#this is harm reduction. apparently#AND he has the fucking gall to complain that we dont give him any positive reinforcement when he succeeds!! fuck offfff#i try to be graceful and forgiving. addiction recovery isnt linear. and at least he admits its an addiction now#and he has chronic back pain and childhood trauma and whatnot. but given that he has that back pain because he stormed out in a drunken huf#then shat himself wandered into the shower to clean off and then slipped and broke his ribs. i find it. a little hard. to be sympathetic.#the complete dismissal of the success stories from recovering alcoholics going teetotal as fucking AA propaganda also doesnt help. lol.#but yeah. point is: he values being allowed to drink more than he values us and keeping himself from hurting us#there you have it. in black and white#personal#delete later#apologies for oversharing. needed to get this all out#i gotta get the fuck outta here man. i feel numb to everything#anyhoo. if you read this far kudos. thanks for lookin out or whatever <3
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Drunk Modern!Mizu with a Breeding Kink
(((Yup. I don't know what to title this short fic other than that. I let the demons win.)))
(((This turned out to have a bit of spice, a bit of fluff, a bit of my sense of humor. I will say it doesn't get smutty smutty but Mizu sure has a mouth on her. And she's determined.)))
Youâre shooing Taigen and Akemi out of your apartment with a tipsy giggle at 2 am. Akemi turns and squeezes you in a warm hug. âGood night, doll! See you later!â
Taigen flashes you a peace sign before Akemi leads him, swaying and all, toward their Uber to take them away.
You watch them climb inside the car before closing the door and locking up for the night. You head into the kitchen, picking up the last of the beer bottles and tossing them in the trash.
You head into the living room where you last left Mizu, only to find her sprawled out on the floor with an arm thrown across her eyes. Thereâs a pink flush across the middle of her face.
âToo much whiskey, sweetheart?â you chuckle as you approach her.
âFucking Taigen,â she mumbled, trying to angrily growl but it just sounds slurred and tired. âFuckingâŚdrinking contest.â
You crawl over her, sitting on her hips. You do have to move carefully though, youâre just a wee bit unsteady from the amount of alcohol in your own system. âYou couldâve just said no,â you hum.
Mizu remains silent. Sheâs probably telling herself she wonât grace your soft snark with an answer, but itâs actually cause she really doesnât have a comeback for that.
Her arm lifts slightly higher, and she squints down at you. Her eyes drift to where youâre sitting atop her hips. Her legs shift under you.
Sheâs⌠really staring intensely at how youâre sitting on her.
You start to lift yourself up on your knees. âYou good? Does it hurt?â
Mizu frowns as your weight leaves her. âNo,â she says, and grabs your hips to pull you back down. â...Itâs nothing.â
But you know that look. She gets it every time Taigen got under her skin about something.
âNothing? Like a âjust thinkingâ nothing or a âTaigen pissed in your metaphorical thinking cerealâ nothing?â
Mizuâs nose scrunches up in disgust. âWhat?â
You press your hands to Mizuâs chest, bouncing a little for emphasis. âWhat. Did. He. Saaaaay?â
Your tone and actions were meant to be lighthearted, but something flashes in Mizuâs eyes when you bounce yourself on her hips. Her eyes flash back down to where youâre sitting. Her hands instinctively grab your hips to still your movement. The pink flush across her cheeks and nose seem to darken. âFuck,â slips out from between her lips. She shakes her head. âSâ just being stupid and gross.â
You noted that little change in her voice. âLike what?â
Her thumbs run over the jut of your hips. âSome girl he hooked up with. Talking about how she had an IUD and let him cum inside.â
You sigh, âJesus Christ, of course.â
âHeâs gross.â
She keeps shifting her hips under you. âAre you sure you donât need me to get up-?â You start lifting yourself again.
âStop moving,â she says, and the flush on her cheeks doesnât die down. She tries to look annoyed, but you can tell the minuscule differences in her expressions. Thatâs a pout more than a scowl.
You laugh breathlessly. âWhatâs got you so worked up?â You tap her totally not pouting lip.
She grunts, grumbling a little as her hands massage where theyâre gripping your hips.
âDonât be all huffy with me. Tell me,â you coax with a grin, your own tipsy flush complimenting your wide smile.
She rolls her head back against the carpet and is silent for a minute.
The amount of whiskey currently killing her liver is the only reason her inhibitions are loose enough to say it.
She mumbles something.
âMizu-â
âI wanna do that.â
Your eyebrows raise into your hairline, lips parting with surprise. You need to clarify just in case you're misunderstanding. âYou want to-?â
âI want to cum inside you.â
The raspiness of her voice is even grittier from the whiskey.
Holy shit.
Her irises are darker than normal, the bright blue having more the tint of stormy waters.
And whether itâs the liquid courage or Mizuâs determination to barrel through things to push through her fears, she keeps going.
Her hands are heavy as the slide up your sides. âI want to have something that I can slip inside you-â
Your heart is pounding harder in your chest from her words, her actions, the heat of her frustrated gaze. âYou have several strap ons-â you joke, but your voice is weak and airy.
âI want to feel you from the inside.â She makes a frustrated grunt, âI donât want plastic. I want to feel you wrapped around something other than my fingers. I want to stretch you out-â
Her palms dig into your stomach. Her blue eyes flick up and meet yours, and you almost fall back away from her with how much unfiltered desire is in them. Her own breath is shallow, you can see how silently but rapidly her chest is rising and falling.
âI want there to be risk that I forget to pull out.â
Holy shIT-
âMizu-MIZU-!â
Her hips bucked, throwing you higher up her waist with her strength. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, and your fingers hit her shoulders as sheâs suddenly sitting up, face inches from yours. Sheâs supporting your weight in this position, hands and feet flat on the floor as youâre the unsteady one in so many ways. She looks irritated, like when she canât bend something to her will no matter how much work she pours into it. But she also looks slightly mournful. Genuinely upset.
And very, VERY drunk.
She looks up at you with furrowed eyebrows. âI wanna see it dripping out.â
You gasp loudly as her teeth snap into your neck. Itâs not a love bite, itâs possessive. Itâs stinging.
But Mizu, being the complex and non one-note person she is, does let go and licks at the reddened skin in apology. âI want to leave myself behind. Inside you.â She nuzzles her nose below your ear, huffing.
Your brain is just on lag, taking several moments to catch up with each of her revealed desires. âAndâŚâ you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. âAnd if you got me knocked up on accident?â
Her arms squeeze tightly around you, burying her face in your shoulder. Sheâs silent for a heart pounding moment, you can actually FEEL her heart pounding with yours.
Her lips drag along the skin behind your ear. Her voice is low, dark. âWouldnât be an accident.â
Someone needs to take whiskey away from this woman. Or give it to her more. Youâll decide if you survive this encounter.
âMizu-â you donât even know how to finish that sentence. Youâre just⌠you donât even know. You think you hear a faint ringing in your ears.
Her left hand dig into your side, gripping the fabric of your shirt. âWould you keep it?â she asks so softly.
âI-â your brain is still on that fucking LAG.
Her breathing is slow, shuddering against your ear. âI wouldnât make you, if you didnât want to-â she sounds so pained to say it your heart squeezes. You actually forget for a moment that thatâs never gonna be an issue for you two.
Her grip on your shirt relaxes, before curling the fabric between her fingers tighter, clinging to you. âIâd just⌠beg for you to think about it,â she makes a wounded sound.
You swallow again, throat clicking. Youâre becoming aware of a heat low in your abdomen growing warmer and warmer.
She holds you tighter against her, and her hips start rhythmically rolling up against yours like sheâs mimicking how far sheâd push inside to get what she wants. Sheâd work so hard for it, putting in all her time and energy and her unwavering determination-
âItâs selfish,â sheâs murmuring against your skin, warm lips having traveling down to your neck. âBut Iâm selfish. I want it. I want it so much. I want to know thereâs a little us-â one hand goes between your bodies, fingertips pressed up under your naval like sheâs obsessed. Her voice is strained. âI want to know itâs inside you. Theyâre inside you. I want to know theyâre safe and warm. Youâd keep them so warm. Youâre always warm-â
You have never, in your life, ever heard Mizu babbling like this.
SHEâS STILL ROLLING HER HIPS UNDER YOU.
You finally grab her face with both hands in a rare moment of clarity to still her, forcing her head up to look at you in this haze of body heat radiating from her, from you, radiating everywhere between your bodies.
âBaby.â
Her head lolls back, looking up at you and oh my god. She is just gone. Her red cheek flush has spread to her whole face. Her lips are wet and parted, breath now audibly heavy. Her eyes, her eyes, her gorgeous blue eyes are now a storm. A dark, hot storm.
âLet me put a baby in you, dove,â her voice is strangled, slurred worse than youâve ever heard as her half lidded eyes gaze at you.
Jesus, sheâs bringing out the rare pet nickname sheâs so desperate.
And just when you think Mizu is done shocking your system with this new side of her, her expression crumbles into the saddest thing youâve ever seen.
âPlease?â
Sheâs pleading.
What the fuck was in her whiskey?!
âIâll-Iâll take care of the two of you. Keep you safe. Just let me- just let me-â she lifts her hips up under you again, as if trying to tempt you into it. She hiccups. âJust spread your legs and Iâll do all the work.â
With strength she should not have while sheâs absolutely smashed, she lunges forward, shoving you to the carpet with your legs spread around her waist. Her hot breath fans over your face, tinted with whiskey. She wets her lips. âHave my baby. Say yes.â Her hips press down into yours again. She whispers your name.
Youâre tempted to say yes, despite still being sober enough to remember the logistics of this. She makes a very persuasive case. And itâs not just cause sheâs grinding into you like sheâs warming up to do it.
"Say yes..."
Click!
You both slowly look up (you more tilting your head back) as the front door opens and Mizuâs roommate Ringo comes in. He freezes in the doorway, seeing Mizu crouched over you in a very interesting position with your legs still spread by her thighs.
She scowls at him. âYou said you werenât coming back tonight!â She sways over you.
Ringo blinks. âMom has Bingo in the morning,â he says innocently. â⌠did something happen?â
âSheâs pregnant,â Mizu hiccups, before passing out atop you without warning, shoving a strangled noise out of your chest as you yell for Ringoâs help.
âOh? Congratulations!â
ââŚ.WaitâŚ?â
âRINGO HELP!â
In the morning, Mizu drags herself into the living room looking like she was just brought back from the dead, face drained of color and eyes squinting at the light behind her tinted glasses.
âHi baby,â you greet her softly, cautiously as you watch her head to the kitchen, aiming for the coffee pot.
âHi,â she groans. âIâm never fucking doing a drinking contest with that bastard again.â
You nod, âThat sounds good."
You pause, "Do you remember anything from last night?â
She shrugs as she passes you. âBarely.â She disappears into the kitchen.
âOh,â you turn toward her retreating back, propping your chin in your hand as you lean against the back of the couch. You wait until sheâs out of sight to oh so innocent call out âI wanted to ask about how you were begging to impregnate me.â
Several loud crashes in the kitchen.
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things friends do.
felix catton x reader (wc: 3.1k)
summary: things friends do include but are not limited to: sleeping in each otherâs bed, kissing, sharing beer, fucking each other
warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex
authorâs note: yâall i have refused to believe that jacob elordi was attractive but saltburn did me in
ââââââââââââââââââââââââ
You were not in love with Felix Catton.
And Felix Catton was not in love with you.
He was a lover boy, but he was not your lover boy.
The thing about Felix was that he had just about everyone at his disposal. Girls, guys, it didn't matter. Everything belonged to him so long as he wanted it. But it didn't feel that way. You never felt as though you were owned by him. It was just that he was Felix and who didn't want to belong to him?
Of course 'just friends' didn't constantly have their hands all over each other, didn't sleep in each other's bed or see each other inappropriately naked. And 'just friends' definitely didn't kiss each other on the mouth.
But this was Felix.
Not Oliver, or Farleigh, or Veneita. Felix.
â
The party is so electric that you're not sure if it's the music or your own erratic heartbeat thumping in your ears. The place is so packed that at some point the entire bar had become part of the main dance floor in order to accommodate for the dizzying array of overheated, intoxicated bodies moving this way and that. Blue light illuminates the otherwise dark room. Flashes of neon green splash across swaying bodies, highlighting dancers as they navigate the floor.
To no one's surprise, Felix is in the center of it all. He'd gravitated towards the pole in the middle of the room like a magnet and had taken to it to pay his dues, his slender body rolling to the music with all of his typical charisma.
After a few beers, you're pleasantly buzzed, but you'll probably be toeing the line once you finish the fourth in your hand. Felix is well on his way to a monster hangover, one that he'll sleep off on the floor of your dorm room. Farleigh is right behind him, likely just as intoxicated, but with him you could never tell. Farleigh was always the same catty bitch no matter how drunk or sober he was. You loved him, but he was a bitch.
A heavy weight suddenly staggers upon your shoulders, and you groan against the weight, both you and Felix swaying dangerously to the side as he throws his arm around you. Usually this wouldn't work because he's so ridiculously tall but the alcohol had made him a little less coordinated than usual and he's slouched down to closer to your height. Beer sloshes over the rim of his plastic cup and splashes onto the floor at your feet.
"Having fun, darling?" he asks, half shouting in your ear to be heard over the music.
"Always," you laugh, though it's mostly directed at him.
His skin is clammy with sweat and his breath is coated with the familiar, yeasty smell of beer. "Where's Farleigh?" Felix doesn't even wait for your response before he's shouting for him. "Ay! Farleigh!" There's a cigarette pinched between two fingers of the same hand that's holding onto his cup, and he raises it to get his friend's attention.
His arm still around you, you dodge the spilling liquid heading for your feet. "Felix! Felix, careful!" you scold him, still laughing, so the smile doesn't disappear from his face.
In an attempt to solve the problem, he leans forward and starts to swallow back the remainder of the beer in his cup. He must underestimate just how much he had left to go because it starts to escape past the sides of his mouth, dripping past his jaw and down the front of his open shirt.
You shriek again. "Felix!"
Laughing, he pulls the cup away and brings it towards you. Before you can protest, he's tipping it back into your mouth. He leaves you no choice but to swallow it or wear it across the front of your shirt so you do your best to drink the remaining beer, more nursing from the cup than gulping as Felix was.
It leaves your lips and chin wet, and before you can wipe the excess beer away, Felix does it himself, somewhat roughly dragging his thumb under your lip. He then sucks the digit into his mouth, hardly thinking twice about it. It would have been erotic with anyone else. But this was everyday with Felix. It would have been weird if you hadn't chugged the backwash of his beer.
His attention is just as quickly drug from you to Farleigh. You hadn't noticed the other boy approaching. He gives you a wicked smile, a look in his eyes like he wants to say something but refrains. You tilt your head, prepared to ask him what his mischievous look is all about but Felix interrupts you.
"Farleigh, mate," Felix begins still hugging you close. "The girls are looking a bit bored. What do ya think?"
Across the room, India and Annabel are sitting on a couch together. The piece of furniture itself has certainly seen better days, torn and stained with bodily fluids of varying levels of disgusting. There's a guy with his arm slung around India, but for all she's paying attention to him, he might as well not exist. She's drinking from a bottle of champagne and couldn't look less interested in him.
Farleigh's eyes track from you to Felix, as though making some sort of connection, then he smiles cheshire-like. "Oh yeah, mate. You know, I do think India was actually looking for you earlier." His sinister brown eyes lock with yours, as if waiting for you to object. "Why don't you go put her out of her misery. (Y/n) and I will go busy ourselves at the bar."
Felix grins crookedly, nothing but honest fun shining in his blown pupils. "I will see you two later."
He straightens but not before twisting his neck, body still plastered to yours, and he plants a sloppy kiss to the side of your mouth. His lips taste like beer and nicotine. It's not really even a kiss, just a lack of coordination on Felix's part that he didn't catch your cheek. If Farleigh hadn't been trying to start something in the first place, you wouldn't have even thought twice about it.
It's not the first time Felix has kissed you. Hell, he's probably even kissed Farleigh at some point. Maybe not on the mouth because they were cousins, but that's besides the point. Friends kissed each other all the time. This wasn't anything new.
As Felix removes himself from you, his tall figure walking over to grab India's hand and lead her from the couch, the guy who had been flirting with her for the past hour glaring after them, you level your stare with Farleigh's. "What's that look about?"
Farleigh crosses his arms, looking as full of himself as ever, and rolls his eyes. He really was a bitch sometimes. "Fuck the friend code and fuck him already. You know you want to."
It's your turn to roll your eyes. "I don't want to fuck him, Farleigh."
You don't. Things just weren't like that between you and Felix. Sure, maybe there had been a few occasions where you'd sucked him off and he'd done the same for you in return but that was all purely situational. There were no feelings attached. Just two friends who were close enough to do that kind of thing without it being weird.
Farleigh just scoffs at your ignorance, pushing past you with his shoulder to head over to the bar. "Just like sweet little Ollie doesn't want to fuck him? Please, neither of you look at him all that different."
"Everyone looks at him like that," you argue. "He's Felix."
"No, everyone looks at him like they want his dick in their mouth. You look at him like you'd let him do absolutely anything he fucking wants to you. And honestly, (Y/n), it's kinda sad." He says the last part with faux pity, his voice demeaning.
You scowl at him as he turns back around and walks over to the bar.
Fuck Farleigh. You did not want to fuck Felix.
And fuck him for putting the thought in your head.
â
It's nearing two am by the time you remove yourself from the bar. You're no more intoxicated than you were earlier, having cut yourself off after chugging the last of Felix's drink, but you weren't particularly keen on walking in on Felix and India after tonight so you'd resigned yourself to sitting on a barstool for the remainder of the night.
You keep telling yourself that you weren't bothered by him having sex with her, but Farleigh had put the thought in your head and it wouldn't leave.
Of course you liked Felix. Who didn't like Felix? But did you want to sleep with him? No.
Maybe.
It wasn't like he wouldn't do it if you asked. But Felix would have sex with anything that walked. And you weren't India. You were his best friend. And no matter now many times you two had pushed the line of being just friends, having sex with him would completely ruin the line all together. And then what? There nowhere to go after you start dating your best friend. If it crashes and burns it's game over. And with Felix, that was a guarantee.
You pass India going opposite of you down the hall. One of the straps of her dress is hanging off her shoulder, bedazzled high heels in her hands as she struggles to slip them back on. There's a dark purple hickey at the junction of her throat and collarbone and another lighter one above her breast. You don't say anything to her, just push past her into Felix's dorm.
He's sprawled out across the top of the bed that he never makes, shirtless and only a pair of flimsy boxers to cover his bareness. His head rolls towards you, cigarette between his lips.
"Hey," he greets, smoke spilling from his mouth. "You have a good time with Farleigh?"
You pick your way through the disaster of his room, stepping around empty boxes of pizza and abandoned articles of clothing until you find something that looks wearable. You unzip your dress, only half turned away from him as you pull on one of his shirts. He's seen you naked before and so your ass and the side of your boobs is hardly scandalous to him.
"Farleigh is an ass," you retort, crawling onto his mattress to settle into the empty space at his side. It's without a doubt the same space that India had been just a few minutes before.
Felix frowns, the piercing his brow moving downwards with the expression. "What's he said to you?" His tone is concerned because he knows how his cousin can be.
You just sigh in response, shifting into a more comfortable position at his side. Felix takes another drag of his cigarette while he waits for your response. Farleighs words run through your head again.
"Why haven't we had sex?"
He actually laughs at that one, sitting up on one of his elbows so that he can see you better. The shag of his dark brunette hair hangs over his forehead as he looks down at you. "Do you want to have sex?"
While his tone is amused and humorous, you know he's genuinely asking. Felix would never make fun of you for that kind of thing.
You shrug, looking up into his bemused brown eyes. "I don't know. Maybe?"
This conversation shouldn't be as casual as you're making it out to be, and maybe it wouldn't have been with anyone else, but this is Felix. He's your best friend.
Slowly, he leans down and places a kiss on your lips. It's fairly brief, hardly even long enough for you to kiss him back before he's pulling away. "Then let's have sex," he says, and it's as simple as that.
Felix leans down again, connecting your mouths. Without breaking the kiss, he shifts from where he'd been laying beside you to bracket your hips with his knees. His long fingers find the buttons of his shirt that you just put on and begin to unbutton them, his hands sliding down your sides until you're squirming.
"Felix," you whine, already short of breath from his touch.
"Relax, baby. I've got you," he murmurs into your mouth, sliding one of his hands into your hair, the blunt of his nails scraping against your scalp. It gives him enough purchase to tip your head back and expose your neck to his unrelenting mouth. The hot heat of his mouth pants against the underside of your jaw, the wet muscle of his tongue laving along your throat.
His other hand slides down your hip, then your thigh before coming to your panties. You have to force yourself not to squirm away in anticipation. Thankfully, Felix isn't a tease and he uses two of his fingers to pull your panties to the side. You do, however, jump when he slides them into your slick hole without any hesitation.
The bastard snickers against your throat. "Sorry," he apologizes, kissing apologetically at your jaw. "I guess I should have warned you."
All you can do is huff, your fingers tugging at his tangle of brown hair. He grins at your inability to respond before kissing your mouth again. He swallows the noise that escapes you when he curls his fingers and your back arches off of the bed. He does it again, this time scissoring them to stretch your hole. The burn is more pleasurable than uncomfortable, but it leaves you gasping into his open mouth.
Just when you think that's all he has to offer with his fingers, they somehow slip even further, hitting some part deep inside of you that you didn't even know existed. He curls them and you actually cry out, your knees knocking at his hips to push him away.
"I know, I know," he soothes, using the broadness of his shoulders to keep your legs in place. Felix curls his fingers into your smooth walls a few more times, his thumb circling your clit until you swear you can't take anymore. It's torture, the length of his two fingers inside of you.
Finally, he pulls them away before you can actually start crying. Your arousal coats his long fingers and drips down his wrist, glistening in the darkness of his room. Felix's brown eyes hold yours as he sticks them into his mouth, refusing to look away even as his tongue dips between them. You can barley swallow the spit in your mouth.
Felix grins, leaning down to kiss you. Even if you hadn't wanted to taste yourself on his lips, he doesn't give you much of a choice, his tongue dipping into your mouth. He moans, and it's quite possibly the hottest thing you've ever heard.
Then he's disconnecting your mouths to slide down his boxers. His hard cock bobs free, brushing against the lean planes of his stomach. You've seen Felix's dick before. It's no surprise to you how large he isâ incredibly long with a perfectly mushroomed tipâ but you've never had to think about it actually going inside of you.
His hand catches your jaw, forcing you to look at his face. There must have been flash of fear in your eyes because he murmurs sweetly, "Look at my face, okay? I want to see you."
You nod as best you can in his hold.
You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but he misses the first try, his cock sliding through your slick and nudging at your clit. Your whole body jolts but his hand at your throat holds you in place.
The second time, his mushroomed head catches at your hole and he slips in, meeting little resistance. He slides in only another inch or so before stopping, his cock already snug inside of you. You whine when he tries to push in further.
Felix kind of laughs, his hand reaching down to circle his thumb at your clit. "M'sorry, baby. You're so tight. Just give me a second."
You swallow, willing back tears. It's not that it hurts, not really, just the fact that he feels so good and you want him inside of you.
Without warning, his hand splays across your stomach and he uses the leverage to push further inside of you. This time your muscles relax enough around him and he slides all the way in.
You moan at the feel of him entirely inside of you.
âThere we go,â he groans, the muscles of his abdomen contracting as he holds himself up. Now fully inside of you, he begins rocking his hips, his dick hitting that spongey spot inside of you with every thrust. Felix is breathing heavily into your ear, the squelching of him sliding in and out of you the only other sound in the room.
Soon Felix hits a spot inside of you that makes your toes curl and almost immediately youâre coming, clenching around him as you do so.
âFuck,â he whispers. Felix thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out just before he can come inside of you. He spills partially onto the bed and partially onto your stomach. When heâs finished, he holds himself up over you avoiding his own release leaking onto you stomach.
When his eyes find yours, he grins, that signature crooked smile appearing onto his face. You canât help but laugh, your head falling back into the pillow. Felix laughs too. Not because he particularly knows whatâs so funny but because youâre laughing.
Youâre laughing and he loves you.
He leans over grabbing a tissue from the box beside his bed and wipes you off as best as he can before tossing it onto the floor and laying back down beside you, an arm behind his head You rest your head on his other arm, scooting in closer to his side.
âAre we going to talk about this?â he asks, looking down at you.
You smile to yourself, watching his toes nudge yours instead of looking back at him. âAbout what?â
â(Y/n), weâve been friends since grade school and probably kissed a million times.â
Eventually you look up at him, doing your best to not look so sheepish. âFarleigh told me I was worse than Oliver. Can you believe that?â
Felix scoff, his fingers scratching through your hair. âI wouldnât fuck Oliver.â
You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully at him. âYeah you would.â
Felix barks out a laugh. âYeah, I would,â he agrees.
#felix catton x reader#felix catton#saltburn#felix catton x y/n#felix catton x you#jacob elordi#jacob elordi imagine#felix catton smut
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nocturnal | choi seungcheol [M]
summary âž tipsy from after-work drinks, seungcheol returns home on friday night to find you asleep. he tries not to look, but his wandering eyes keep drifting over to your slumbering figure, and he knows rest wonât come easy when you seem to be tempting him even in your sleep. seungcheol could resolve his little predicament all by himself, but shouldnât you be the one to take responsibility for making him feel this way? Â
PAIRING // choi seungcheol x fem!reader
GENRE // some fluff, mostly smut, pwp (i mean it, I'm warning u), sub!reader, dom!seungcheol, fiancĂŠ!seungcheol
WARNING // 18+, explicit sexual content, established relationship, unprotected sex, somnophilia, consensual voyeurism, male masturbation, slight size kink, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, fingering (f receiving), edging, choking, thigh riding, talks about having kids, cheol is a teasing little sh*t
WORD COUNT // 13k
AUTHORâS NOTE // 13k of just smut lol btw have yall seen GDA cheol? the all black fit and rolled up sleeves and the dark hair... moving on, happy new year to everyone who reads this, may 2024 bring us endless happiness and love ( ËáľË )âĄ.°â
do reblog if u enjoy this fic. I'm working on a wonwoo fic that has ten times more plot than this so pls stay tuned for that :) song rec is rock your body - clara la san
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You're already in bed when your fiancĂŠ returns home from work, drifting in and out of sleep, wanting to wait for him to come home but unable to fight your weariness. Friday is always the busiest day at work, and the idea of being able to stay in bed until noon the next day only makes you want to wait up for him even more.
Seungcheol must think you're already asleep. It's reasonable that he thinks that wayâyou're a light sleeper and often go to bed early. He tries his best to stay quiet as he moves around. You had barely heard him enter the apartment, and only faint thuds of his sock-clad feet can be heard as he meanders around the house.Â
When Seungcheol enters the bedroom, he's a little sceptical as to why the bedside lamp is still on, casting a dim, yellow glow across the room. His eyes search for you, finding you cocooned under the covers, lying on your left side with your back turned to him. He knows you can't sleep with any light on, but he deduces you must've been waiting for him and inevitably succumbed to sleep.Â
Seungcheol moves toward the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. He's slightly tipsy from downing a few beers with his co-workers after work. He feels light on his feet, and his once-gelled hair is no longer slicked back, some unruly strands now falling over his forehead. He hears you shift on the bed as he loosens his tie, but he doesn't think much of it, proceeding to unbutton his dress shirt.
Two buttons in, he hears movement from the bed again, and this time, he looks in your direction in the mirror, taken aback when his eyes meet your bleary ones. He turns his head to look at you, his mouth curling into a lazy smile. "I thought you were asleep," he says in a low voice.Â
You say nothing, propping your elbow up on your pillow and leaning your head against it to get a better look at your fiancĂŠ. He turns back to the mirror, and you notice the rosy tint colouring his cheeks. You sigh dreamily, admiring him from the bed. Seungcheol is tallâthat much is obviousâbut those dress pants do his legs wonder.Â
When he reaches for his belt, you can't help but stare. His dress shirt is still tucked into the pants, the first few buttons open, baring the soft skin of his chest. Your eyes wander, and you think Seungcheol does notice. The man does not miss a thing when it comes to you.Â
The sound of his belt unbuckling makes your legs curl closer to your body, and Seungcheol definitely notices this time because he stops his movement, fingers hovering over the button of his pants. When he turns on his heels, your eyes finally snap back up to look at his face. He doesn't say anything as he approaches, coming to a stop beside the bed, towering over you.
He reaches one hand out to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. It's a feathery touch, and your eyes naturally flutter close, head tilting into his touch just the slightest. Gentle fingers thread into your hair, brushing it back and tucking loose strands behind your ear.
Your eyes snap open when you feel his thumb against your bottom lip. At first, it's harmless, and he's only dragging the pad of his thumb across your lip, but then he starts to dip further into your mouth. He lets out a soft sigh when your lips part, allowing his thumb to rest against your tongue. Then, your mouth wraps around his finger, suckling at it softly, and his breath catches in his throat when he feels just how warm and wet your mouth is.
It's over before you want it to be. Seungcheol smiles a little too innocently, removing his thumb from your mouth and patting your cheek. "Get some rest, baby. I'm going to take a quick shower."
You don't stop him as he walks into the en suite bathroom, surprised that he hadn't immediately taken his clothes off and taken you right then and there. Seungcheol's self-control has always been immaculate when it comes to sex, but refusing to do it on a Friday night when neither he nor you have work tomorrow morning? You chalk it up to his exhaustion after working overtime, so you lie back in bed, eyes refusing to close even though your body is screaming at you to rest.
Seungcheol emerges from the bathroom not even a minute later, shirtless, belt discarded, pants unbuttoned. He takes off his silver Rolex, carefully setting it down on the bedside table near his side of the bedâas always. To your disappointment, he doesn't spare you even a glance before walking back into the bathroom.
You find yourself sighing, anticipating what seems to be an uneventful Friday night. You and Seungcheol usually spend Friday nights togetherâ going out for dinner or unwinding with a movie on the couch. But if your lover is too tired to do anything other than sleep, you understand. You also have days when you feel too drained to do anything other than lie in bed and mull over your thoughts. Besides, it isn't like you don't have the entire weekend to make up for itâhell, you have your whole life to make up for it.Â
Seungcheol leaves the bathroom door open behind him. It's not strange for either of you to keep the bathroom door open while showering. Privacy isn't much of an issue for both of you.Â
You fall back asleep relatively quickly, not thinking much about the fact that the shower hasn't started running even though Seungcheol has been in the bathroom for at least five minutes.
You awaken again soon enough to the sound of soft sighs and some rustling from the direction of the couch placed near the bedroom door. At first, you try to ignore it, thinking Seungcheol might just be getting himself ready for bed. Then another sigh follows, and you peek an eye open to take a quick look. What you think will be a quick look turns into so much more.Â
Your beloved fiancĂŠ sits with his legs spread on the white couch, still shirtless and wearing his dress pants. This time, however, his boxer has been pushed down just slightly, and he's lazily stroking his cock in his hand, his other arm splayed across the backrest of the couch. His skin is pale and milky, glowing in the golden light. He smiles when you prop yourself on your elbow, blinking blearily as if trying to comprehend what you are currently seeing.
He's rock hard, shaft glistening with pre-cum. You and Seungcheol have always loved trying new things in bed, pushing yourself to the limit, testing just how far each of you will go before you tap out. But this... the thought that Seungcheol was touching himself to the sight of you asleepâit stirs something in you. You've always loved waking up with Seungcheol's cock inside you. The drag of his cock feels especially good when you're still drowsy, trying to pull yourself together but failing each time because your lover just feels so good inside you. But this is different.
Seungcheol's hand speeds up, and the way he groans makes you lose your train of thought. The silver ring sits snugly on his little fingerâthe coolness of it must feel so good on his cock. You don't break eye contact, shifting onto your stomach and folding your arms underneath your head as you watch him. You wouldn't be able to look away even if you wanted to.
Seungcheol grits his jaw when he sees you smile. It's the last thing he expects. You look so sweet, and he starts to wonder about the sight he would be met with if he were to pull the covers away from your body. Are you wearing the sheer nightgown he always loves seeing on you? Or maybe you're wearing nothing, and he'd be able to spread your legs apart and slip himself right into the warmth of your needy cunt.
Seungcheol straightens his posture just a little, cock twitching in his hold at the sight of your smile. You look so at ease, enjoying this more than he had anticipated. He was half expecting to get an earful from you, thinking you would probably scold him for his bizarre behaviour, but this, he wasn't expecting at all, and that makes his cock harden, balls tightening almost painfully. Seungcheol feels as though he's about to burst from the inside. Your smileâas if you're taunting him, teasing him.
"Fuck, fuck..." he breathes out, head tilting back, eyes closing, savouring the feeling of his rough, calloused hand moving up and down his cock. The fact that you're most likely still watching him makes his abs tense up, trying to hold back from finishing too fast. It has barely been ten minutes since he started, but the sight of your smile feels like it's burned into the back of his eyelids. It makes his brain go haywire.
He risks another look at you and immediately realises he has made a grave mistake. Instantly, he's cumming hard, unable to hold himself back because you're looking at him so prettilyâslow blinks and a sleepy smile. A loud groan rips from Seungcheol's chest, fist wrapped around the tip of his cock, stroking it just barely, trying to milk everything out. His cum trickles down his knuckles, down his shaft.
The intensity of your gaze, fixed squarely on his leaking cock, spurs Seungcheol to stand up. He rids himself off his dress pants and boxers, using the latter to wipe off most of his release before walking closer to you. Seungcheol stops on the side of the bed, stroking his softening cock almost languidly. He doesn't have to say anything, and you're already sitting up against the headboard, reaching a hand to grab at his wrist to pull him even closer. Seungcheol perches one knee on the bed, watching as you lick your lips at the sight of his cum. You're still fucking smiling, and he feels himself growing hard again.
"Enjoyed that, did we?" he says quietly, trying not to break the peace and quiet too much in case you feel like going back to sleep after his little 'show'.Â
"Very much," you reply, voice slightly scratchy from sleep.Â
Seungcheol is so thick everywhere, and it makes you dizzy. Your eyes roam over his chest, bulky arms, and firm thighs. Your lover has always been strong and filled in all the right places, and you love it. He has no problem picking you up, tossing you around, manhandling you into different positions. He doesn't struggle with keeping you steady when he's fucking you against the wall or any other surface.
You brush aside his hand from his cock, tongue lolling out to lick at the excess cum on his knuckles, cleaning it off his skin. The salty, bitter taste floods your tongue, and you immediately take him into your mouth. Seungcheol hisses when you do, loving the way your mouth envelopes him. You don't waste any time trying to take all of him in, mouth stretching almost painfully around the heavy girth that's starting to harden again, your thighs pressing together to get some friction. You must look pitiful to Seungcheol, trying to fit all of him in your mouth in your sleepy state, hips shifting slightly on the bed, trying to get some relief.
Breathing in, you look upâright into his eyesâbefore moving forward until the tip of your nose presses into his lower stomach. He breathes out a chuckle when you gag, throat constricting around his cock. Your eyes fill with tears, but you don't pull away until you're sputtering and the droplets of tears trickle down your cheeks. Seungcheol's quick to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against the pearling teardrops on your cheek. "Easy, baby... I know you're tired. Don't force it..."
Hearing Seungcheol's instructions, you stick to shallow motions, using your hand to stroke the rest of his length you can't fit in your mouth. Seungcheol's hip jerks forward a little when you drag your tongue along the underside of his cock, tracing the veins and circling the tip. Seungcheol mumbles an apology as he weaves a hand through your hair and starts to thrust his hips forward little by little, lost in the feeling of your mouth.
His cock glistens with your spit in the low light, and your eyes fall shut naturally, basking in the quiet noises Seungcheol is making. He doesn't force you to take all of him, pulling his hips back before the tip of his cock can reach your throat. You appreciate his sentiment, even if you feel awake enough to take whatever he gives you.Â
Your eyes snap open when you feel the cold air against your bare legs. Seungcheol has yanked the blanket away from your body and is now peering down at your exposed form, clad in his grey shirt and a pair of white panties. Your panties are nothing special, but Seungcheol feels his cock twitch in your mouth when he sees the wet patch on the crotch of your underwear.
He can feel the vibration of your moan against his cock when his finger grazes over the damp spot on your panties. He can't resist using the tips of his fingers to rub over your clothed pussy, teasing up and down the slit, watching the way the drenched fabric sticks to your dripping cuntâthoroughly soaked and ruined before he has even done anything to you.Â
When you pull away from his cock momentarily to take a much-needed breath, Seungcheol immediately leans down to capture your lips with his in a bruising kiss. He swallows all your moans, rolling his tongue over yours, dragging it against your lower lip. He doesn't pull away, even as he tugs the crotch of your panties to the side and starts to circle your clit with his fingers, which makes your legs snap shut, trapping his hand in between.
Seungcheol pulls away from the kiss, glancing down at his trapped hand before looking back at you almost expectedly. "Open," he commands. You don't need to be told twice, immediately parting your legs.
"Good girl..."
Seungcheol prods at your hole with two fingers, slipping both in only halfway. They slide in easily, slick from the wetness seeping out of your pulsing hole and the remnants of precum messily smeared all over his cock as he was jerking himself off.
"You got this wet from watching me? Or were you touching yourself before I got home?" Seungcheol grunts, gazing down at the way your pussy is fluttering around his fingers. The squelching sound is obscene, resounding throughout the bedroom. "Messy little thing..." he mumbles quietly, lost in thought as he lets his fingers dip into you right down to the knuckle.Â
You gasp, pulling your mouth away from his cock to look up at his face. Seungcheol doesn't meet your eyes, seemingly entranced by the sight of his fingers between your legs. Bending one of your knees, you spread your legs wider. After dating Seungcheol for two years and being engaged for one and a half, you don't feel the need to hide from him nor the embarrassment of presenting yourself to him like you're his to own and use as he pleases. In all honesty, he possesses every part of youâyour heart, your soul, every inch of your body. He is yours as much as you are his.Â
When Seungcheol adds a third finger, he finally looks back at your face, not wanting to miss how your eyebrows furrow and mouth gape open at the tight fit. His fingers are thickâmuch more so than yoursâbut his cock is even more so, and he definitely needs to stretch you out to get you ready, or he will risk hurting you. There are occassions when a little bit of pain is most welcome, but tonight, his main objective is to give you pleasure.
With a trembling hand, you reach up to grasp at his cock, stroking him slowly, matching the pace of his fingers as they dip in and out of you. You know you won't be able to use your mouth properly, not when he's touching you so earnestly and looking down at you as though he hasn't ever seen you in such a position in your years of being together.Â
"You touch yourself before I came home, sweetheart?"
You're quick to shake your head, slumping further down the headboard as he continues to play with your pussy. "No..." you whimper, jolting when he suddenly curls his fingers, tips of his fingers firmly pressing up against the spongy spot inside you that sends a current of pleasure darting up your spine. "I got so wet from watching you, Cheol," you sigh out, hips canting up to match the movement of his hand. "I love watching you..."
Seungcheol hums, grinning down at you, pleased with your response. "Aw, my baby always loves watching me, isn't that right?"Â
His free hand envelopes the hand around his cock, urging you to keep stroking him. The ring on his middle finger glints in the lightâit's the ring you gave him a week after his proposal. It serves as a reminder that no one else but him has the privilege to have you like this. No one else will ever get to touch you, kiss you, make love to you, and fuck you the way he intends to tonight. You're his, forever, and the idea has him grunting out your name breathlessly.Â
With his hand atop yours, he guides your hand up and down his length at a pace that makes him hiss. Your hand is much smaller than his, fingertips barely meeting around his thick girth. His skin prickles whenever you tighten your hand around him just slightly every time your hand reaches just under the head of his cock, squeezing him just the way you know he likes it.Â
"Fuck..." he exhales, sweat beading down his temple. "So good, sweetheart..."
"Cheol..."
"Hm? Tell me what's wrong."
You glance down at the hand between your legs, feeling short of breath from watching the way your slick seems to coat Seungcheol's fingers, some staining your thigh, some smeared on the palm of his hand. You suck in a big breath, stomach caving in. When you return your gaze to him, you're surprised to find he's already looking at you, the tip of his pink tongue peeking out to rest against his bottom lip. The way he's looking at you makes you feel sweltering hot.Â
"My shirt, p-please," you stutter out, feeling suffocated in only one layer of clothing.Â
Seungcheol immediately understands what you're asking, but he makes no move to take your shirt off. You whine when he suddenly retracts his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling so empty. He peels your hand off his cock, leaving you baffled and so goddamn frustrated.Â
"Cheol, why'dâ"
He hushes you, lowering himself onto the end of the bed. He grabs both your thighs, pulling you down from the headboard. His cock nudges against the back of your thigh, so close to where you want him the most.Â
"Oh, God," you breathlessly pant. "Need you inside me," you tell him, feeling frenzied. You move to pull off your shirt, but he grunts, shaking his head.Â
"Don't," he orders, using his grip on your thighs to spread your legs wide enough for him to be able to get a good view of your sloppy cunt, all slick and puffy from the onslaught of his fingers. "I like seeing you in my shirt," he says in a faraway voice, distracted by the sight of your pussy, hole clenching around nothing, almost inviting him to dive right in.Â
You groan, propping yourself up onto your elbows, chest heaving. You lick at your dry lips, sending Seungcheol a pleading look, but he doesn't meet your eyes, too absorbed with the mess in between your legs. "Cheol, babyâ"
Without warning, Seungcheol leans down, shoving his face into your pussy, mouth hungrily devouring your heat. You fall back onto the bed with a startled shout, jaw hanging open as you try to comprehend the sudden onslaught of pleasure that threatens to consume you whole. Seungcheol is good with his mouth and familiar enough with your body to know how to bring you close to the edge in only minutes.Â
He's sucking at your clit noisily, manic with his movements like a starved man getting his first taste of food after days without it. He's greedy and ravenous, offering you no respiteânot even a moment to catch your breath.Â
You try to tell Seungcheol to slow down, to give you even a second to compose yourself, but only garbled moans of his name come out. By now, sleep is the last thing on your mindâonly pleasure clouds it. You're trembling under him, helpless against the relentless assault of his mouth.Â
When Seungcheol groans, the vibration on your most sensitive part makes you choke on air, lowering a hand down to grab the strands of his dark hair. When you try to move away from him, he clutches onto your thighs tighter, tongue teasing at your hole, swirling but never diving in. You're still trying to get away, overwhelmed. He notices this, and he brings both his arms around your thighs, hugging your legs close around his head. There's no room to moveâhe has you locked in.Â
"Fuck, please, please, s-slow down! C-Cheol!"
He doesn't, lapping up all your juices, groaning at how your taste coats his tongue and how your smell overtakes his senses. He trusts you to say the safe word if it becomes too much. He also knows that you can take thisâhe has done far worse things to you before.Â
The tip of his nose presses against your clit when he delves his tongue into your pussy, earning a rather rough pull of his hair from you. The pain shoots down his spine, making him slump down onto the bed to grind his bare cock on the bed. All of it makes him so light-headed. Your legs are tightening around his head, trapping him, but he doesn't mind, not even if your moans sound muffled this way. He'll get to hear you later when he fucks you silly into the mattress anyway.Â
Tears brim in your eyes. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, dry from moaning so much. It's almost too muchâhow he is so ruthless with his mouth and tongue. He doesn't let up once, breathing in and out through his nose, delighted to be suffocated between your plush thighs. It's pure fucking torture, but it feels divine.
"Cheol... C-Close," you whisper, hoping he can hear you.Â
He doesn't hear you, but he knows you enough by now. He knows the telltale sign of your orgasm approaching, knows how tight you get when you're about to cum, knows how your back arches and your toes curl. He looks at your face and reads your lips, repetitions of his name spilling past it.Â
Then he's pulling your legs away from the sides of his head, ripping his mouth from your pussy. Your orgasm is brutally stolen from you, and the sheer frustration that surges through you makes you howl out his name. To make it worse, he only chuckles at you, hands rubbing comfortingly at the side of your thighs. The touch should be soothing, but it only leaves you angered.Â
The sheer audacity of this manâ
"You asshole," you spit out with all the venom you can muster, chest rising and falling rapidly. Tears of frustration trickle down your cheeks, and Seungcheol thinks the sight would be so lovely if he hadn't just been devouring you like you were his first meal in months.Â
"Aw, don't be like that, baby..." he coos sweetly, lips and chin glossy with your juices. He wipes his face with the back of his hand before swiftly grabbing at your soiled panties, pulling them off you and tossing them somewhere in the room. He adjusts your legs, straightening both and letting them dangle over one of his shoulders. Holding his cock in his hand, he strokes it twice and then runs the tip up and down your slit.
"Choi Seungcheol, you'reâyou..." you trail off, finding yourself drawing a blank, still shocked by how he so meanly robbed you of your orgasm when it had been right at your fingertips. That, combined with how his cock is lightly dipping into your hole, leaves you feeling an untamed emotion, a sensation of chaos where you feel completely out of control, an experience both terrifying and exhilarating.
"Did you just call me Choi Seungcheol? We've been together for years, babyâlet's not use full names now," he warns you before he sinks into you in one fell swoop, stuffing you full of every inch of him. There's a brief flash of pain as you try to adjust to the sudden stretch, hands tugging at the bedsheets and eyes rolling back. You hear him chuckle, prompting you to look up at him. You regret it almost immediately because the sight of him makes your hips lift off the bed, a strangled moan leaving you.
Your orgasm crashes into you like a freight train, sudden and jarring. You don't even register it yourself at first, at least not until the overwhelming ecstasy makes you go stiff in Seungcheol's hold, sobbing at the surge of pleasure that has striked you so abruptly. You had not had time to prepare yourself, so you try grounding yourself by grabbing his biceps and clawing at the smooth skin, leaving tender, red marks.Â
"G-God, oh God, Cheollie," you whine, pinching your eyes shut because everything feels too fucking good, and you're struggling to bring yourself down from this euphoria and anchor yourself in the present.Â
Seungcheol doesn't realise what's happening right away. He feels the way you clench hard around him, walls squeezing him so tight that he can't help but let out a small groan. He's caught off guard when he feels your nails digging into his arms. You're writhing underneath himâquivering, shakingâand finally, it dawns on him what has just unfolded. You just fucking came, all because he had eased his cock into your warm cunt.Â
"Oh, baby..." he mutters, snickering quietly to himself. He coaxes you through your orgasm, pressing soft kisses on the side of your thigh. "Shh, good girl, that's it, ride it out for me, darling..." he murmurs against your skin, fighting back the urge to start moving his hips and fucking you through your orgasm. You've never been this sensitive before, and he knows he needs to approach this situation carefully. He doesn't want to overstimulate you too much and too soon, both for your sake and his.Â
Seungcheol is equally perplexed and impressed at how little it had taken you to cum. All he had to do was slip himself into you, and you were coming undone under him? He feels his cock twitch at the thought. Seungcheol's only a man, and what you did has inflated his ego tenfold. He thinks nothing could ever top this moment, and he doesn't intend to let you live it down.Â
You're not sure just how long it takes you to collect yourself. A gentle palm smoothes down your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. The soft voice is murmuring your name, pulling you back down, down, down from your drunken daze.Â
"I'm sorry," you say, still a little disoriented, gaze unfocused. You see Seungcheol's outline and see his lips moving, but you don't hear anything except the pounding of your heart in your ears. You blink a few times, forcing yourself to adjust and snap out of whatever trance you were momentarily stuck in. "I'm sorry," you repeat after finally regaining your awareness. Your eyes zero in on Seungcheolâyou can see him clearly now.Â
"Darling, believe me, an apology is the last thing I need," he says, slightly relieved that you seem to be returning to your senses now. He carefully sets your legs to the side, leaning down and hovering over you with a leering smile. He has you caged in his arms, looming over you with his broad frame, making you feel small. "All I needâ" he begins, nosing at your jaw, breathing in your smell, "âis for you to beg."
You let out a shuddering breath, feeling the tip of his cock nudge at the back of your thigh. Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Seungcheol had pulled himself out of your pussy, knowing he would most likely reach his own climax if you kept clamping down on him the way you did.Â
"Beg?" you echoed back, tilting your head up, giving him more access to litter kisses on your neck.Â
"Mhm..." He lets his teeth graze over the sensitive skin under your jaw, not biting, just gliding over your pulse point. "Beg me to make you cum again." He ends his sentence with a playful nip on your jaw, loving how you jolt under him in surprise.Â
His request isn't unusual or odd in any way. Seungcheol has said worse things to you beforeâthings so filthy and obscene it would make a sailor blush. His words carry an unfamiliar weight this time, provoking a shyness in you that you never anticipated would be caused by his words alone.Â
Warmth begins to creep up your neck, and a lump forms in your throat as something akin to humiliation washes over you. The weight of the situation starts to dawn on you. Seungcheol hadn't even had the chance to move before you were creaming all over him like a bitch in heat. The thought of it makes you want to curl into yourself and hide until morning.Â
Seungcheol must feel you tensing up because he's immediately pulling away from the crook of your neck, searching your face with his eyes. You avert your eyes to the side, unable to meet his gaze with the wild embarrassment coursing through you.Â
"What's wrong?" he asks you. "Look at me, baby..."
You sigh, knowing he wouldn't just let this go. Still, as you drag your gaze back to his, you can't help the shameful furrow of your eyebrows.Â
Seungcheol immediately knows. "Are you... embarrassed?" he asks, the corners of his mouth curling up just slightly.Â
You groan, pushing at his chest to get him to roll over to his side of the bed. He doesn't resist, moving over to give you enough space to sit up on the bed. "Ugh... 'm not embarrassed," you grumble, tucking your feet under your legs so you're sitting cross-legged on the bed. You feel Seungcheol's hand on your back, palm warm over the shirt you're still wearing as he rubs up and down to soothe you. The gesture only makes you feel even more ashamed, especially since you can hear the quiet laughter he's emitting beside you.Â
Seungcheol finds it so endearing when you press your hands to your face, hiding yourself from him. His grin widens when you whine into your hands. "What are you so embarrassed for?" he asks, fully knowing the answer but still baffled about how you're so flustered from doing something that he wants to keep stored in his memory until the end of his days. The way your bewildered face had morphed into one of pure ecstasy as your orgasm washed over you is something he wants to be able to replay in his mind again and again.Â
His cock jerks at the memory, and he swiftly hauls the comforter up to the middle of his torso to cover himself up. He calls out your name softly, but you don't answer him, still hiding yourself with your hands. He lets out a small sigh, knowing he'll have to get your attention some other way.Â
He soon notices your engagement ring sitting on the bedside table. He knows you avoid wearing it to bed, too worried that it might slip off during the night due to your restless sleeping habits. Then, he comes up with the perfect distraction.Â
Reaching over, he swiftly grabs the ring from the table before settling back into his previous position. The movement makes you retract your hands from your face, curiously glancing at him.
Seungcheol is smiling, dimples on full display. You resist the urge to poke at the little dents on his cheeks, still feeling bashful about the incident. Then, you notice the small object he's fiddling with in his hand. He's tinkering with your ring, turning it over with his fingers, fitting it around his index, grinning when it doesn't even reach halfway down his digit.Â
Seungcheol's eyes seem to darken when he returns his gaze back to yours. His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he grabs your left hand, fitting the ring on your finger. The way it fits so perfectly around your supple finger evokes something primal within him. How such a small thing can symbolise the commitment and love you both have for each other is such a wonder to him. He knows that no wealth or material possessions could ever encapsulate the depth of affection he holds for you, let alone this piece of jewellery.
"If this is your way of distracting me so I don't think about what happened earlier..."
Seungcheol rolls his eyes playfully. "You're welcome to forget about it all you want, but it's gonna keep playing in my mind like a broken record whether you like it or not."
You release a sigh but refrain from arguing because Seungcheol's words ring sincere, and you're aware he wouldn't acknowledge your embarrassment anyway.Â
He brings your hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing the ring. The gesture is intimate, even if he feels something entirely more carnal stirring in his stomach. "You're so much smaller than me. Could barely even fit the ring on my finger," he comments, thumbing at the small diamond sitting prettily atop the ring.Â
Through your blush, you manage a reserved smile. "That's because you're so thick everywhere."
You don't mean the sentence in a weird way, but judging from Seungcheol's booming laughter, he definitely misinterpreted your words. He squeezes your hand once before tugging you down to settle half of your body on top of his. He lets you join him under the covers before cupping your cheek, urging you to look at him.Â
"I'm thick everywhere, hm?" he teases you, watching how red immediately stains your cheeks.Â
"Don't be gross," you grumble, letting him trail kisses from your wrist, then up to your palm, and settling on your ring. "What's with you and the ring anyway?" you ask him, finding it sweet but slightly odd that he seems so fixated on it.Â
"I just had a thought, that's all," he responds, kissing each of your fingertips.Â
"Go on."Â
"That one dayâ" he says, eyes burning into yours heatedly, "âthere'll be a wedding band beside this one, and you'll finally be mine forever." He says it airily, as if it's the most natural proclamation, with unwavering certainty in his emotions.Â
Your heart sings at the declaration. "You're wrong on the last part." You press a fleeting kiss on his mouth, smiling when his eyebrow raises questioningly. "I don't need to be married to you to be yours."
Seungcheol grins, one of his hands skimming down your back, grabbing a handful of your ass over the oversized shirt you're wearing. "You don't know half the things you do to me, do you?"Â
"I do, actually, and I plan to abuse that power," you jest, beginning to sit up, throwing one leg over your lover's hips to straddle him.Â
Seungcheol is awestruck at the sight of you on top of him. You, all beautiful and celestial, and all his. He wants to worship you, ruin you, and defile you all at the same time. He's not in the right mind to say anything yet, so he only watches, both hands gliding up and down your thighs, getting higher each time, hiking the fabric of your shirt higher up as well.Â
He breathes out a sigh when he allows himself to look down. Your pretty pussy is on display, all for him, with remnants of your juices on it and some smeared on your inner thighs. He's about to touch when you grab his wrist, slowly guiding his hand towards where you need him the most. He knows what you're asking of him, and he'd be stupid to deny you your wish.Â
You gasp when Seungcheol starts running two of his fingers up and down your slit, coating his fingers in the wetness of your cunt, unafraid to get messy. When he sinks both fingers into your hole, you can't help but mewl, one hand grabbing onto his bicep and the other still wrapped around his wrist.Â
"So wet for me, darling... You're fucking dripping all over my fingers," he says once he finally regains his voice back.Â
Seungcheol is much stronger than you, and he could easily rip away the hand on your wrist and finger fuck you to oblivion the way he usually does it. This time, however, he lets you guide him, allows you to move your hips to match the rhythm of his movements, and allows you tug his hand closer to reach deeper into you each time he buries the digits. He's still holding the reigns, and he knows thatâeven if you're the one sitting on top of himâbut seeing you try to handle and manage your pleasure all by yourself is so fuckingâ"Cute."
"Oh... fuck," you breathe out, swallowing hard when Seungcheol folds his free arm and tucks it under his head. He's prettyâbicep bulging and veins crawling up his arms.Â
He grins when your pussy tightens around his fingers. "Think you could cum like this?"
"Mhmm..." You sit up straighter, balancing yourself with both hands firmly planted on Seungcheol's shoulders. Slowly, you switch to bouncing on his fingers instead of rolling your hips, wincing slightly at the burn of your thighs. Still, you push through the pain, aching for release, pressure in your stomach tightening at the way his fingers seem to reach deeper inside you at the new angle.
"Pretty, pretty girl," Seungcheol mumbles, more to himself than to you, but you still hear it anyway. It makes you light-headed. You love Seungcheol degrading you during sex, but hearing his compliment brings out a visceral reaction in you. It makes you giddy and scatterbrainedâas though every coherent thought in your head simply just... wilts away.Â
You bite your lip at his praise, eyelids drooping slightly, a dreamy look settling over your gaze. Seungcheol thinks this is his favourite look on you. You're not saying anything, but your eyes tell a story of themselves. He can see itâthe way you're practically begging for him and his cock.Â
"Please," you whisper, continuing to fuck yourself on Seungcheol's fingers, moaning wantonly at the mix of pain and pleasure. You're squeezing his shoulders with your hands, nails occasionally digging into his skin whenever the pleasure becomes a little too much. You're so close, and you think Seungcheol knows it as well.Â
"That's right, baby. Is my pretty girl close?" he asks, shifting slightly underneath you, cock throbbing at the lack of attention, hard as rock at the adorable sight of you bouncing on top of him. He loves the way you look in his shirt, but he thinks he'd much rather see your perky tits jiggling in his face as you ride him instead.Â
"Mhm, c-close," you profess, hands restless, wandering down to his smooth chest before settling around the base of his neck. You don't squeeze, only letting your hands linger as you chase your high.Â
Seungcheol chuckles when he notices the delicate grasp of your hands around his neck. He knows you won't put pressureâyou're too meek for that. And no, he's not underestimating you. In fact, you might be the only person in the world capable of reducing him to his knees with a glance. But between the two of you, it has always been him who would dare to do such a courageous feat.Â
Seungcheol does exactly that. He slips his hand from under his head and clasps it around your neck, watching your eyes widen when he applies the slightest pressure onto the sides of your throat. You always cum so much quicker when he has at least one hand around your neck.Â
Your whole body stiffens at the contact, pussy fluttering wildly around his two digits. "O-Oh, f-fuck, fuck!" You let your head tip to the side, eyes fluttering close as you near your high. Your legs are starting to go numb, but that's the least of your concerns when your climax feels like it's looming right around the corner.Â
"Attagirl... that's it," Seungcheol drawls, applying more pressure when he feels your pussy squeezing tight around him. At this point, you must be growing dizzy from the lack of air and blood. He's careful not to apply any more force than he currently is. "What a pretty necklace," he taunts, awed by how perfectly his hand wraps around your neck. You're so much smaller compared to him. "Pretty necklace for my pretty girl..."
"Ungh, 'm cumming," you manage to slur out, movements growing more frantic, rhythm getting more sporadic the closer you get. Â
"Look at me, sweetheart."Â
It takes you a few seconds to register what he is asking. Your eyes drag over to his face. It's torture knowing you could be riding his cock instead of his fingers, but you know he'll want you to finish what you started. His fingers are doing a heavenly job, but the stretch isn't quite enough. You don't say that to him, though, knowing he'd probably give you hell for voicing it. He'd say you're insatiable and edge you until there are no tears left for you to cry.Â
"There you are..." he says once your eyes meet his. There's a hunger in his stareâan unspoken promise of the things he will do to you once you've finished fucking yourself on his fingers. Your whole body tenses, cheeks burning when he nods as though urging you to let go. "Can you look at me when you cum? Can you do that for me?"
When Seungcheol adds the smallest amount of pressure on the grip around your neck, you can't help the unadulterated moan that spills past your lips. You're so fucking dizzy, vision blurring on the edges. It's getting increasingly difficult to keep your eyes locked onto his when the world feels like it's about to crash down on you.Â
You still have your hands on his neck, and for a moment, you're distracted by how your engagement ring sits on your ring finger. The fat, silver diamond is a stunning contrast to his golden complexion.Â
"Come on, don't get distracted now. Cum for me so I can finally get you on my cock, hm?"
You come apart with a broken shout of his name, soaking his fingers with your cum, milky slick trickling down his knuckles and dripping on his stomach. At the height of your pleasure, Seungcheol decides to release his hold on your neck, letting the air and blood rush up to your brain. The sudden surge feels exhilarating, rendering you frozen in bliss as the feeling rips through you.Â
"Fuck, sweetheart," he remarks, his free hand coming up to brush back the hair from your face, letting your head loll into his hand sluggishly as it braces the back of your head. You look exhausted, back slouched and chest heaving. Still, he notices the way you're slowly grinding on his fingers. He knows you need more. "That looked like it felt good."
You nod, letting him slip his fingers out of you, sucking in a sharp breath at the sudden emptiness. "So good. Thank you..." Everything feels like it's aching��your legs, your back, and your pussy most of all. You're far from done, but you allow yourself to rest, lowering yourself to lie on top of him, face buried into his neck. You breathe his scent and allow it to root you in the moment.Â
Seungcheol wipes his stained fingers on your shirt, tsking you when you whine in protest. "It's literally your cumâwhy are you so grossed out about it?" he teases.Â
"Because..." you say slowly. When you realise you have nothing to say, you pick your head up, blinking at him.Â
Seungcheol hums, eyes amused when he looks down at you. "Mhm?"
You don't have an answer, so you kiss him instead. Seungcheol welcomes the kiss, letting his tongue meet with yours in a feverish kiss that makes your hands cling fervently to his hair. You're shifting on top of him restlessly, letting your pussy settle over the length of his cock, sighing heatedly into his mouth and letting his tongue swirl around yours sloppily.Â
Seungcheol grunts at the way you let your pussy slip up and down his throbbing cock. Your cunt is hot and so fucking wet, and he feels like he might combust from how good you feel against him.Â
Two orgasms should've been enough for you, but you know you won't feel fully sated without Seungcheol's cock dipping in and out of your pussy, leaving it all messy in a mix of your cum. You're not sure whether you can cum again, but you do know you want Seungcheol's cum inside of you, and soon.Â
"Inside," you whisper against Seungcheol's lips, not letting him respond before you smash your lips to his again. Reaching down to grab at his cock, you're just about to line the tip with your hole when he shoves you away with a harsh grip on your arm.Â
You yelp in surprise, the world turning into a blur, hardly comprehending that you're no longer sitting on top of him. You're now lying on your back, staring wide-eyed up at Seungcheol as he hauls your shirt off, leaving you just as naked as him.Â
Seungcheol can't help how his eyes gravitate towards your tits, all on full display for his eyes to feast on. "Fucking perfect," he mutters, one hand jerking up and down his cock as his eyes roam up and down your body, taking everything in. The sight isn't foreign to him, but all the blood still rushes to his dick the same way every time. You're too fucking perfect. If ever comes a day that he ever sees a single flaw in your body, he'll fault his eyes instead.Â
When you sigh, it comes out half a moan. "Hurry, Cheollie," you tell him, spreading your legs wider, holding yourself open with two hands on the back of your knees, baring yourself to him unashamedly. You're too desperate for his cock to worry about self-dignity now.Â
Seungcheol groans, stomach flipping at the sweetness dripping from your lips when you say his name so endearingly. "Alright, alright..." He presses one hand on the back of your thigh while the other hand grips his cock, running the leaking head up and down your sloppy cunt. "Just don't cum on me too soon like last time, yeah?"
"Why are you bringing that up!"
"Actually... maybe I wouldn't mind. You always shut up so good after you cum." He chuckles at the deathly glare you give him, choosing that exact moment to sink into your awaiting heat, amused when your glare twists into an expression of utter bliss. Oh, he could die happy like thisâcock snug in your warm, tight pussy. He allows you a few seconds to adjust, letting his hands travel all the places of your body that he can reach, leaving your skin prickling.Â
"Move, Cheol...Please."
Seungcheol smirks at your pleading, watching the way you spread your legs even wider for himâinviting and beckoning him to take you like you're the sweetest and ripest forbidden fruit. "How do you want it, pretty?"
Your eyebrows knit in frustration. Surely , he's trying to tease you, purposely prolonging whatever this is when he could already be fucking you into the mattress by now. Still, you humour him, hoping he will give in. "Any way you want, I'll take it."
Seungcheol nods with a hum, nibbling at the insides of his cheeks as he glances down at the point where his cock disappears into your pussy. "Any way I want, hm?" he echoes back, swiping a thumb at your swollen clit, snickering when your hips jump, causing his cock to slip out, heavy girth springing up to smack against his stomach.Â
You reach down with one hand, guiding his cock back to your pussy, desperate to be filled again. "Please, just please." The words come out frantic, almost distraught. "I need you."
Eventually, Seungcheol relents to your pleas. You look so pretty when you're begging for his cock, and that look you're giving himâyou look delirious already, and he has barely done a thing.
"Shh, I've got you, sweetheart," he mutters, slipping back inside. Much to your delight, he doesn't dawdle this time. Although he does start off slow, pressing forward until his balls are pressed firmly against your ass each time he sinks in, earning a quiet sigh from you every time. "Pussy taking me so well, princess..."
At this pace, you're able to feel every slide of his cock against your pussy, the way the veins along his length rub against your walls so delectably. "God, f-fuck, fuck, Seungcheol..."
Your lover is watching your face closely, groaning now and then whenever your walls tighten around him, but amused for the most part. He doesn't want to seem arrogant, but he thinks it's incredibly flattering that you still react this way to his cock after years of being together. You're always so eager for him, shivering under his caresses as if you're starved of his touch, as if he has never sunk himself into your tight pussy again and again, only to come back for more.Â
Even now, as he hooks his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him, you're sighing out his name so exquisitely, the syllables rolling off your tongue effortlessly. Your pussy drips for him, the sweet nectar leaking onto his cock, staining your inner thighs.Â
A frustrated groan bubbles in your throat as you prop yourself up onto your elbows, scowling at the man who is currently not fucking you the way you both deserve it. The drag of his cock feels good, but you need more, and you know he does too. "Cheollie," you mewl in your sweetest voice, one hand grasping a handful of your breast, squeezing it in the hope of enticing him to go faster. "Need you to go faster, please..."Â
Seungcheol doesn't try to hide his smirk, stopping the movement of his hips entirely. He knows you're trying to lure and tempt him, just like the seductress you are. He would be lying if he said your siren gaze and the sultry lilt of your voice don't make him feel as though he's spellbound. It's hard not to give in when you're looking up at him like you want him to wreck and pillage your body until you are practically ruined for everyone else but him.
When you flash him a saccharine smile, it's as if there is a magnetic pull drawing him down closer to you, mouth hovering over yours. He breathes you in, painfully aware of how his cock twitches inside you when you peer at him through your lashes.
"I thought you said you'd take anything I give you," Seungcheol mumbles, hot breath fanning against your lips. He pecks your lips once, angling his head to the side when you try to lean in for more, rejecting your kiss. He coos when you pout at his rejection. "So take what I'm giving you. That's what you promised me, isn't it?"
Then he swoops down lower to trail kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at your collarbone. You're scowling at his statement, irked that he's using your words against you. Seungcheol doesn't seem to care about your current predicament, licking his way down to the slope of your breast, biting down on the skin with enough force to make it hurt.Â
"Don't you want to feel good, Cheollie? Why are you making this longer than it should be?"
"Oh, don't you worry about me, darling. I'm very much enjoying myself," he murmurs, pressing tender kisses on the side of your breast.Â
You're opening your mouth to retaliate but decide against it at the last second. Instead, you press your mouth together, saying nothing as you lie back on the bed. You'll let Seungcheol have his way with you for now. Whatever game he's playing right now won't last long, and his control will crumble eventuallyâat least, that's what you're hoping.Â
When Seungcheol wraps his lips around your nipple, you let his name escape you in a sigh. His mouth is warm as he gently suckles, tongue circling the pebbled bud. You don't need to look down at him to know he's looking up at your face, taking in your reaction. "Feels good..." you pant when he stretches his jaw open further, taking more of your breast into his mouth, teeth skimming over tender skin.Â
Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as you arch your back. The slight shift makes your brain short-circuit for a moment as his cock seems to burrow deeper inside of you, sending a flash of heat through your body. "Fuck, so big..."
Seungcheol hums against your chest, still sucking earnestly, lapping at your nipple with his tongue, pulling back now and then to look at the way your chest glistens with his spit. After some time, he switches to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, making sure it's covered in his spit just the same as the other one.Â
You're not sure whether Seungcheol realises it, but his hips have started moving again, cock pushing in and out with no precise pattern, only seeking the warmth of your cunt as it sinks in repeatedly. It's addicting but agonising as well because you want more, and you're not sure whether you can hold out any longer. "Cheol," you softly call out, hoping to gain his attention. You don't wait for him to respond before speaking again. "Need you to fuck me, please..."
He pulls back slightly, blowing cold air on your damp chest, making you shudder. "Aren't I already?" he asks as he litters kisses on the valley of your breasts, fucking into you less distractedly this time, the force of his thrust growing harder.Â
You nod, breath stuttering when he finally gains speed, not as fast as you'd like but enough for your mind to go hazy. "Y-Yeah, just needâfuckâjust need more..."
Seungcheol's laugh comes out a little shaky. He pushes himself back onto his knees, ignoring your whine at the loss of his warmth. "Are you being greedy, princess?" He gathers both your legs together, letting them dangle over one of his shoulders, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs soothingly when he hears your sigh of relief from the switch of position.Â
"I'm not being greedy," you grit out, looking up at him, hissing when he delivers a notably hard thrust. "Please, please, just... faster..."
"See, what'd I say? That was you being greedy." Seungcheol admires you from this position, drinking in the quiet sounds you're emitting, savouring the fluttering of your pussy around his cock.Â
Your eyes begin to brim with frustrated tears. You love the man with all your heart, but this is taking it a little far, even for you. You're yearning for him, blood pounding in your ears, skin aflame with desire and an insatiable hunger that threatens to swallow you entirely. How much longer do you have to wait?Â
"I can't, Cheol," you sniff, tears spilling onto your cheeks. "P-Please, I really can'tâ"
Seungcheol shouldn't feel so satisfied with how you're crying from how overwhelming it is, but an undeniable sense of fulfilment washes over him at the sight of your tears. This is what he wanted, after allâto test your limit and push you to the edge. "Alright, sweetheart, don't cry, I've got you..."
With a kiss to your calf, Seungcheol finally grants you what you've been begging for all night, quickly finding a rhythm that immediately garners a loud cry out of you. He sighs, cock finally finding relief at the friction. He enjoyed the game while it lasted, but thisâit makes him think that maybe he should've given in sooner. You could've been filled to the brim with his cum by now if it hadn't been for his stubbornness to see you pushed to your breaking point. With this thought in mind, Seungcheol fucks into you even harder, trying to make up for lost time.Â
More tears escape your eyes, but it's not out of frustration this time. It's incredible how quickly the tiny sparks of pleasure can become something mightyâan unreckonable force that racks through your whole body, vicious and ruthless, almost cruel in a way.
"Still with me?" Seungcheol asks, gritting his teeth at how well you're taking him, his hands squeezing onto your thighs roughly, the hold almost painful. But you're too preoccupied with your own pleasure to care about whether or not his hands will leave bruises.Â
"Baby, you still with me?" he repeats.Â
"Hmm..."
Seungcheol shakes his head, not satisfied with your answer. "Talk to me, sweetheart."
"Y-Yeah," you respond, breathing in sharply. "With you..." Your words trail off into a low moan, a sound that makes Seungcheol's eyes flutter shut as he ruts into you faster.Â
The sound of skin slapping against skin resonates through the bedroom. It's lewd and unmistakable. His balls slap against your puffy folds with each thrust, sending your slick splattering everywhereâon your ass, on the bed, some droplets even landing on his thighs. He loves it when you get all sloppy for him like this.Â
Your hand claws at his own, nails digging into his wrist. Seungcheol lets you remove his hand from your thigh, a growl ripping in his chest when he realises your intention. Before he knows it, he has his palm splayed on your breast, one of your smaller hands resting atop his, guiding him to squeeze. He squeezes once, then twice, relishing the way you moan for him when he does. "That's it, always so good for me. You deserve this, yeah?"
"Don't stop, C-Cheol..." When you look up at him, he seems torn between looking at your face or down at the spot where his cock meets your pussy. He doesn't settle on one, letting his eyes flicker back and forth, breathing growing ragged when he notices your eyes on him.Â
"Why would I stop, baby?" He lets his free hand settle on your unoccupied breast, kneading gently, enjoying how you writhe underneath him at the contact. Both hands pinch at your nipples, twisting just barely until they harden in his ministrations. "Why would I stop when you feel this good?"
You hadn't been sure at first whether you still had it in you to cum another time after doing it twice in a short span of time, but a single glance at Seungcheol has you disoriented. Something is churning in your stomach, coiling and winding like a tightly wound spring, poised to release if twisted a little further. The more you look at Seungcheol, the less focused your gaze becomes. Tiny beads of sweat trace a glistening path down his temple, and fine strands of hair cling to his foreheadâa testament to the strenuous effort he has exerted thus far.
"Cheol..." you whine, tensing your thighs together, arching your chest up into his rough touches.Â
"I know, I know... I can feel you tightening around me," he grits out, veins in his neck jutting out as he continues to strain himself through his thrusts, beginning to lose himself in the feeling of being buried inside your heat. He retracts his hands from your chest to grab each side of your hips. This way, he has more control of your body, able to pull you down onto his cock every time he thrusts in, pressing into you deeper. "Shit, you feel so good, princess. So fucking good, taking me so well. You love this cock, don't you?"
You don't know whether Seungcheol knows how much his words affect you, but you certainly feel the tingling shudder lick a path from the base of your back to the nape of your neck. You let him grapple at your hips and move you however he pleases, using you for his pleasure.Â
"Say you love this cock, princess."
"Love itâfill me up so well, love your cock..." you slur.Â
"That's right, always so needy for it."
Seungcheol has been holding himself back for some time now, his balls heavy, ready for release. With the way your pussy envelopes him so nicely and the way you're moaning and whining out his name, he knows it will only be a matter of time before he finishes. "You close, baby?" he asks you, chest heaving with every laboured breath he takes. His eyes are screwed shut, afraid he'd cum too soon if he catches a glimpse of your fucked-out face and bouncing tits.Â
"Mmph, feels s-so good..."
Seungcheol brings one hand down to the space between your legs, slipping his thumb through the tight press of your plush thighs, quickly finding your clit. He doesn't take into account, however, the way your pussy would tighten around his dick as soon as he starts drawing quick circles around the sensitive bud. He doesn't have the time to warn you, only letting out a strained growl of your name as he is thrown over the edge, emptying himself inside you, filling you up in ribbons of cum that seem never-ending.Â
Taken by surprise, you can only squeal, wide eyes searching for his as you grab onto his wrist. Seungcheol keeps his hips pressed to yours, balls smearing slick over your ass as he fills you to the brim. You keen at the feeling, toes curling as you savour the warmth of his cum as it paints your walls white.Â
He shudders as the last spurts finally spill inside you, his hips rocking gently on their own, riding out the last few seconds. "Fuck, baby," he groans. He's panting, trying to suck in as much air into his lungs as he can with each inhale, the impact of his orgasm hitting more forcefully since he had been unintentionally edging himself for the past hour or so.
He knows you will eventually ask for more, but he's relieved you're giving him time to recover. He leans his head against your calf and closes his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing. It's hard because the thought that you're still in front of him, naked, dripping his seed, makes him feel winded in a way that is obscene.Â
"Cheol..."
"Yeah?" he grunts.Â
"You okay?"Â
He lets your legs fall from his shoulder, gently setting it down onto the bed, easing you to lie on your side. "Mhm... m' fine," he swallows, "just give me a minute."
When he slides out of you, you let slip a squeak that makes Seungcheol crack a small smile. He splays a hand on the back of your thigh, leaning back slightly to catch a glimpse of the mess between your legs. He can't help the stirring of his cock as he watches driblets of his cum leak out of you, seeping into the bedsheets.
Seungcheol finds it difficult to tear his eyes away from the glorious sight of your ruined cunt. He suddenly finds himself in a predicament. He knows he needs to take a breather, even if there is a part of him that aches to bury himself into you and fill you with his cum for the second time tonight.
Finally, he settles himself beside you, positioning himself so that he's spooning you from behind. He brushes his hand down from your shoulder to your arm and then down the enticing curve of your waist. Your skin is soft and supple against his palm. His caresses must tickle because your giggles fill his ears as you writhe away from his teasing touch. "Cheol..." your whine of his name makes a rush of affection wash over him.Â
Seungcheol grins, pushing himself up onto his elbow to lean over you just enough to nestle his face into the crook of your neck. When he nips at your jaw, you let out a breathless sigh, and he knows it won't be long until you ask him for more. He would give you more if only he hadn't just finished twice over the course of an hour. He will have to find another way to satiate your hunger.Â
Your eyes flutter shut, humming when you feel Seungcheol's lips on your shoulder blade. You don't say anything as you push your lower half into him, which earns a grunt from the man as his sensitive cock comes into contact with your ass. Much to your dismay, his hand immediately flies to your waist, gently moving you away from him.Â
"Baby," he rasps, the strain discernible in his voice. He pecks your lips when you tilt your head to pout at him. "Turn over and face me, hm?"
Slightly confused, you do as he says anyway, gasping when he pulls you into him with a hand on your lower back. With your chest pressed into his and face only inches away, you give him a questioning look, circling your arms around his neck and pressing a brief kiss to his lips. "Now what?"
Seungcheol responds by kissing you. His kiss is hard and fierce, stealing your breath as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip, soothing the stinging bite with a fleeting sweep of his tongue. You arch into him, moaning into his mouth when you feel his free hand trail up your chest to settle on the nape of your neck, allowing him to have a better reign.Â
Something presses against your aching cunt, and you have to break away with a dazed gasp, peering down between your bodies. Seungcheol has shoved his leg between yours, angling his thigh upward to press against you.
The hand on your back moves to the dip of your waist, encouraging you to roll your hips back and forth. The realisation of what he wants you to do makes you whimper. "Oh, Godâ"
"Shh, just focus on me, sweetheart. You can be a good girl and ride my thigh, yeah?"
When you try to respond, nothing comes out except a garbled moan. You must look so salacious to himâmoving your hips back and forth like a desperate whore, dragging your wet pussy against his thigh, eyes rolling back from the simulation on your clit. You swear you see stars dancing in your vision, skin prickling as every thought in your mind withers into nothing.Â
"That's it, I can feel how warm you are... So fucking warm and wet."
You try to kiss him again but find yourself pulling away shortly after, too dazed to keep up with the force of Seungcheol's kisses. His thigh is drenched and sticky from the mixture of your juices and his cum that has leaked out of your hole, but he keeps you stable with a firm grip on the back of your thigh. Whenever you roll your hips, the squelching sound from between your thighs is distinct, and it makes your whole face burn.Â
With a sigh of his name, you weave your fingers through his hair, tugging when the stimulation becomes too intense for your liking. It feels fucking euphoricâthe way his solid thigh feels against your soaked pussy as it drags up, down, up, downâbut it's somehow not enough at the same time.Â
Seungcheol thinks your moans sound like angels singing in his ears, and he eagerly drinks it all in, watching your face intently at the same time, relishing the way your eyes roll back during moments when the pleasure washes over you in waves. "So cute."Â
"Fuck, Cheol, 's not enough..."
Seungcheol's mouth stretches into a grin, letting a few seconds pass in silence as he watches you rut desperately against his thigh, so keen to reach your long-awaited high. "Not enough? You're dripping all over me, though?" To prove his point, he withdraws his thigh from between your legs, shushing you when you whine in protest. "Let's see..."
Two of his fingers swipe at the sticky residue on his thigh. He lifts his hand to your face, showing the glossy remnant on his fingers. To further taunt you, he spreads the fingers apart, allowing a stringy thread of the creamy slick to bridge the gap between the two digits. He doesn't bother concealing his smirk when your sheepish face comes into focus, cheeks red from a combination of arousal and shame.Â
You huff when he sticks his fingers into his mouth, tasting the slick that clings to it. The deep hum that rumbles in his chest kindles a fire in you that you know can only be doused by Seungcheol's touch alone. You can only watch, stunned, mind teeming with a flurry of wild thoughts as he finally removes his fingers from his mouth.Â
"Now you choose, princess. It's either my thigh or nothing at all."
It takes you a moment to decipher his words. "But that's not fair..." you whine.Â
"Just choose."
"I don't wanna..."
"Time's ticking."
You give inâof course you do. Knowing Seungcheol, he probably would stay true to his words. He wouldn't have any problem leaving you high and dry as he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. Then, he would come back to bed as if nothing had happened, and he wouldn't give in no matter how much you cling to him and beg for even an ounce of his attention. Then you'd have to wait until the morning to finally get some relief, either by his fingers or tongue, because he always insists on fucking you only after he has had his dose of morning coffee. It's infuriating, but it would be a lie if you said you didn't enjoy his pesky games.Â
"Fine... Your thigh is fine."
"Use your big girl words."
"I need your thigh, please, Cheol. Pretty please..."
Seungcheol pauses briefly, letting your words sink in before he nods in approval. "Alright, if you insist."Â
When he slots his thigh between your legs again, it's as if you've stumbled upon an oasis amid a scorching drought. The pleasure is liberating, and you're sighing his name against the crook of his neck, melting into his touch, going putty in his hold. You're grasping at both his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as the tautness in your stomach gradually builds again. It's slow, almost torturous, but the mounting tension from before has you trembling, and Seungcheol notices. He always does.Â
"Breathe," he reminds you, tapping your cheek gently to ensure you hear him. "Take your time and breathe, 'm not going anywhere."
"Unghh, I don't know if I canâ"
"You can, baby," he encourages softly.
Seungcheol pulls you even closer by your thigh, hitching your leg a little higher against his hips, spreading you open a little more. He can feel you throbbing against him, and the warmth emanating from between your legs makes him feel heady.Â
"Fuck," he cusses, wishing so badly it was his cock that was making you writhe in his embrace and cry out his name so sweetly. "Stay with me. Are you close?"
You sob at the question. "I don't know. God, C-Cheol..."
"Hey, look at me, princess." Seungcheol nods when you finally compose yourself enough to look at him. "Breathe, and focus on me."
The movement of your hips doesn't stop as he mutters his instructions.Â
"Uh-uh, keep your eyes on me," he reprimands when he notices your gaze flittering down to the glistening mess on his thigh. "That's right, keep those pretty eyes on me. That's it..."
You're sure you've lost all your ability to communicate effectively or conjure up a coherent sentence. The only word you manage to babble and stutter out is Seungcheol's name. No matter how much you try, you can't help the shaking of your legs or the ragged rise and fall of your chest as you try to gulp in enough air. It feels so fucking goodâyou want to tell himâbut nothing comes out except choked moans and whimpers.Â
"Don't worry about anything else. Just focus on the feeling..."
"C-Cheol, 'm close... I don'tâI'mâ"
"Shh, just relax. It's going to feel so good when you let go," Seungcheol says, hand still secure on the back of your thigh, helping you grind down against him. He thinks he might need a long, cold shower after this is all over.Â
When you breathe in, the smell of Seungcheol's tantalising cologne fills your nose, and you can't help but cry out. The mix of patchouli and bergamot combined with the natural scent of his musk makes you tense against him. He smells heavenly. He smells like home. "Oh my God, unghâ"
"It's okay, you can cum. No one's stopping you."
Your eyes drift over his face, focusing on every feature and every detail, no matter how minuscule. Ultimately, it is precisely the look in his dark eyes that throws you over the edge. His eyes have an allure to themâfilled with desire and longing that dance wildly in the shadows, luring you into their mysterious depth. Â
The pleasure doesn't hit you all at onceâit starts from the end of your toes, trailing up your legs, erupting into flurries of flames in your stomach, winding up your spine like an electric current that singes at every nerve. The euphoria builds like a crescendo, like a warmth that blossoms into an inferno and sweeps through your whole being. Your skin burns, but you feel as though you're drowningâchest tight, eyes glassy, mouth agape in a silent shout. Blood roars in your ears, and each heartbeat feels like a drumbeat, pounding against the confines of your ribcage, a relentless rhythm that drowns out every other sound.Â
When the pleasure finally subsides, it leaves a lingering warmth that seems to simmer under your skin. It's a pleasant buzzing, one that makes you feel drowsy. You slump against Seungcheol, hiding your face in his bare chest, trying to hide your bashful smile that would give away how blissful you currently feel. You breathe in his perfume, grounding yourself, soaking in the heat of his body as he gently brushes a palm up and down your back.Â
Seungcheol tenderly clasps your hand, lifting it delicately to plant a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist. His kisses trail down, mouth caressing each fingertip before turning your hand gently. With utmost reverence, he presses his lips against the glimmering engagement ring on your finger, bestowing it with two tender pecks, a silent promise sealed in each kiss.
"I love you," he whispers against your temple, nosing at your cheekbone. "But do you think you could cum that fast again?"
Still recovering from your high, you struggle to grasp his words. "What do you mean?"
"Like before. I mean, I was barely in you, and you were cumming all over me so fast I almost didn't realiseâ"
Your loud gasp cuts him off. "You are such a dick! Stop talking about that!"
"Never!" he objects, dimples showing when he grins. "It's going to make for the perfect story to tell to all our friendsâ"
Deciding your words won't effectively shut his blabbering mouth, you're left with no choice but to resort to slapping his arm instead, not stopping until he seizes your wrist, effectively thwarting your assault on him.Â
"Okay, okay," he concedes with a laugh. "I'm just kidding. That story will forever stay with me and me only. I'm sorry, okay?"
"You don't look sorry."
"You're right, it was just so fucking hotâ"
"You're insufferable. Break off our engagement right now."
The faux horror that overtakes his face is hilarious. "Alright, I'll stop. I really am sorry. Seriously."
You giggle at the admission. "You're stuck with me, you know? There's no backing out of a marriage with me."
He playfully sighs. "Hm, I'm not so sure about that.. I mean, it's not like we're already marriedâ"
"Nice try, but I've already picked out my dress, and it's non-refundable."
"True, and I've just put a baby in you as well, so..."
You lean back, flashing him an incredulous look. "Again, nice try. Still on the pills, dummy."
"And what if they suddenly just... vanished?"
Snickering, you sit up, feeling unbearably icky and sweaty. "Why don't you marry me first, and then we can try having children. Deal?" You don't wait for his response, pushing yourself off the bed and shuffling your way to the bathroom. You can almost feel his eyes burning lasers into your bare ass.Â
"Why don't you start calling me daddy from now on? You know, for practice?"
"Absolutely not."
"What do you think about having four children?"Â
"I love you too, Seungcheol."
"Is that a yes?"
"You're cute."
There's a pause. "So, yes?"
"What should we do this weekend?"Â
You hear him get off the bed, his thundering footsteps drawing nearer. "Stop changing the subject!"
Š sweetlemontart â all rights reserved. âŽâË
#sweetlemontart writes#choi seungcheol#seungcheol#seungcheol smut#choi seungcheol smut#scoups smut#scoups seventeen#seventeen smut#scoups x reader#seungcheol x reader#scoups fluff#seungcheol fluff#seungcheol imagines#seventeen imagines#scoups imagines#scoups fic#seungcheol fic#svt fanfic#seventeen fic#seventeen
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Noncon w gojo but reader is resisting the whole time so he ends up tying them down. And heâs not even trying to be nice about it, heâs degrading her and choking her all that stuff đ¤
BREAKPOINT
PAIRING yandere Gojo Satoru x f!reader
WARNING non/con, unhealthy relationship (red flag Gojo), use of vulgar words, manipulation, humiliation, fingering on kitchen counter, bondage (hands only), blowjob, cumming in mouth, raw sex, breeding kink, orgasm denial, forcing to say stuffs, clit rubbing, pussy eating, nipple play, choking, degradation, lactation kink, multiple orgasms, oversensitivity, creampie, manhandling, so much yanderee
NOTE twitter link here.. sorry for posting late
Dating Gojo, the incredibly good-looking and powerful guy, isn't as simple as you'd think. He frequently reminds you of your perceived inferiority compared to him, and that he could find someone better.
Every time you're with him, he's makes you feel insecure. He keeps putting you down for your mistakes and flaws, always reminding you of all the things he can do that you can only dream about. He often says mean things about how you look and what you can do, making you feel like you're not good enough for him. Even though he's rude and acts like he doesn't care, Gojo still wants you around, making sure you know he's more important in your life.
He's always flirting with other people, which makes it clear he doesn't respect you. When he's with his friends, he completely ignores you, leaving you feeling invisible and unimportant. Your feelings never seem to be a priority for him. It's clear he's more focused on other things, yet he still wants you to stay. You're beginning to realize this relationship isn't healthy for you, but you still crave his approval and validation, hoping he'll see you as worthy.
Your best friend advises, 'You should leave him, girl.'"
"But I love him," you counter.
"But does he love you?"
You stay quiet. Gojo's words may say one thing, but his actions speak differently. Your best friend is right; you realize you need to do something about it. So you send him a text asking to meet at your place, you need to talk to him over this.
Satoru arrives at your house, his long legs carrying him up to the door with an air of confidence. Knowing he's the strongest sorcerer in the world makes him feel untouchable. As he knocks on the door, a thrill of excitement courses through him, anticipating what awaits inside. The familiar scent of your perfume greets him as you open the door, and he smirks, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
He takes off his dark blue jacket, tossing it carelessly onto a nearby chair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he speaks in a low voice, ... "Been missing my dick, huh?"
"What the hell is wrong with you?" you snap, glaring at him. He smirks, stepping closer to you, his body heat enveloping you as he looms over you.
"What the hell is wrong with me?" Satoru repeats, a hint of amusement in his voice. He raises an eyebrow, letting the question hang between them, challenging you to elaborate. When he doesn't get an immediate response, he crosses his arms, sitting on your couch and regarding you with a cocky grin.
"So, why the fuck did you call me if you're gonna give me this attitude? " he asks, feigning ignorance. His eyes gleam mischievously, daring you to confront him about your issues head-on.
You stand there, silent for a moment, searching for the words to express your frustration. Before you can say anything, Satoru turns away, sauntering towards your kitchen like he owns the place. He opens the fridge, pulling out a beer and cracking it open with a satisfying sound. Your heart pounds in your chest, your frustration mounting as he drinks it so casually.
As he turns back to you, he raises an eyebrow, the unopened beer in his hand. "You gonna talk, or are you just gonna stand there?" he asks.
"This...this relationship isn't working," you finally manage to utter, your voice wavering slightly. Satoru freezes mid-drink, the beer halfway to his lips. The surprise in his eyes fades quickly, replaced with a cold, hard stare. He sets the beer down on the counter, taking a step towards you.
"Break up?" He repeats, the word hanging in the air like a challenge. "You think you can just toss me aside like an old toy?" He growls, his eyes burning with anger. The force of his personality filled the room, making it hard to breathe. Satoru leans in, his face inches from yours, his blue eyes burning with a fire that matched his temper.
"You better think twice about this, princess," He snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Once you break things off with me, you'll be all alone. No one is going to love you."
"I'm sure," you say firmly, standing your ground despite the fear in your chest. Satoru's eyes narrow, a dangerous glint flickering in their depths. He steps back, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.
"Did you find someone better than me?" He asks, his voice dripping with disbelief and accusation. The air around you thickens, the tension palpable. Satoru crosses his arms, leaning against the counter, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt. "Tell me... Is his dick bigger than mine?"
You shake your head, your voice trembling as you reply, "No, I just..." Satoru cuts you off, gripping your wrist harshly and pulling you towards the counter. You gasp in surprise, trying to pull away, but his grip is too strong.
He pushes you down on the counter, his dick pressing against your ass, the intensity of the contact leaving you breathless. His eyes bore into yours, the challenge in them undeniable. "Does he fuck you better than me?" he growls, his lips grazing your ear.
You struggle against him, your heart racing as you beg him to let you go. "Please, Satoru...let me go!" You plead, your voice shaking with fear and desperation. Satoru chuckles, his grip tightening around your wrist.
"Not until you realise, what a huge mistake you did by making me mad." he growls, grinding his erection against your ass harder. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to defy him.
Satoru pulls down your pants, revealing your ass. He smacks it hard, the sting of his hand making you yelp in shock. Before you can react, he slides his long, cold fingers inside you, groaning softly at the wetness he finds. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he mocks you, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Well, well, looks like someone wants more of my cock even after saying she wants a break." He chuckles, twisting his fingers inside you roughly. His eyes are full of malicious.
You can't help but moan in spite of yourself, your body betraying your intentions. Your mind screams at you to fight back, but your body responds to his touch, betraying your resolve. Satoru's grin widens, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Looks like you can't resist me, princess," he taunts, thrusting his fingers deeper inside you. "Maybe you don't want a break, maybe you just want me to praise you while I go down on you."
Satoru grips your head tighter against the counter, his fingers thrusting into you relentlessly. Your body buckles under the onslaught, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. You moan loudly, unable to hold back your pleasure.
Within moments, you're screaming his name, your body convulsing as you cum hard. Satoru watches you with a satisfied smirk, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his fingers. He continues to thrust into you, milking every last drop of your pleasure.
Satoru carries you mercilessly to your bedroom, leaving you with no time to rest. He quickly sets you down on the bed and his hands rich to unzip his pants. Desperate to get away, you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankle and uses his weight to pin you down. With a flick of his wrist, he removes his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. Your heart races, fear and desire warring within you as he takes his blindfold and ties your hands above your head, effectively immobilizing you.
"Please, stop!" you plead, tears streaming down your face as you beg him to release you. "I'm sorry, I take back everything I said! I don't want this!" Your words hang in the air, heavy with regret and fear.
Satoru leans down, his gaze hard and unwavering. "The only sorry I accept is by your mouth showing me how sorry it is by sucking me off." He growls, his finger tracing the shape of your lips. Your heart races and your body trembles at the command.
He pulls himself in front of your head, and you hesitate, your heart racing in your chest. The room spins around you, and the scent of him overwhelms you. You understand you have no choice but to obey, swallow your pride, and submit.
Taking a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his shaft and reluctantly start sucking him off. Satoru growls in approval, his hand entwined in your hair, guiding you. Your mind screams at you to resist, but your body obeys him, your mouth moving rhythmically, pleasing him.
As you continue to suck him off, Satoru's grip in your hair tightens. His movements become more erratic, his breaths growing heavier. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're determined to make this quick, hoping he'll release you soon.
You rest your head, waiting for him to untie you. But instead, he parts your legs, grinning wickedly as he rubs his cock against your clit. You flinch, but he doesn't hesitate. With a swift movement, he pushes into you, stretching you painfully. A cry escapes your lips, tears streaming down your face. You beg him, your voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Please, be gentle..."
Gojo grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Well, well, I thought you'd be fucking other guys, but you're still tight as hell." He says, thrusting harder into you. "Feels so fucking good." His voice is thick with lust, his movements becoming more aggressive.
Your body tenses, your mind spinning in the turmoil of conflicting emotions. You're angry, yet you can't deny the pleasure he brings you. His words fill you with shame, your skin burning with embarrassment. Despite your struggles, his grip on you is ironclad. You moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure washing over you as he continues to thrust into you. Your mind screams for him to stop, but your body betrays you, responding to his touch.
Every thrust is a reminder of your weakness, your inability to resist him. You can't help but wonder who else he's been with, who else has shared in this intimacy. A wave of jealousy washes over you, your heart beating wildly.
"Fuck, you're gushing," he growls, his hips thrusting into you with increasing intensity. He reaches down, pushing your top along with bra up, his fingers roughly pinching your nipple, twisting it. Your eyes widen, a gasp escaping your lips. "Yet you say you don't want it?" He grunts, his voice thick with dominance.
You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. His words echo in your mind, reminding you of your place. Despite your struggling, your body responds to his touch, your clit throbbing with each thrust.
Gojo mocks you, his voice dripping with venom. "What's that, are you enjoying it, slut?" He asks, his movements becoming more frenzied. "You think you can find someone better than me? Someone who fucks you better than me?"
His words cut deep, your heart racing with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You can't help but moan, your body betraying your anger. He laughs, his eyes gleaming with malice.
"Look at you, begging for my cock, you worthless slut." Gojo sneers, his movements growing rougher. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world, and you think you can insult me? Ha!" He laughs, his eyes shining with malicious delight. "Listen up", he slows down his thrust making sure you listen to him instead of moaning, "Don't you dare bring that break up again, I own you, I own this pussy, I own your fucking heart, I know it, you love my baby and I love you too.. So let's.. let's be like before, me and you, together.. We can have a baby too, our own family .. so beautiful.", with that he starts pumping into you again hard and fast, desperate to fill you with his fertile seed.
Your cheeks burn with shame, your toes curling as his thrusts grow stronger and rougher, and just before you hit your orgasm, he pulls out, "That's what you get for disobeying me."
You gasp, your pussy gripping on to him as he pulls out. "That's what you get for disobeying me," he growls, his eyes blazing with anger. You feel a wave of disappointment wash over you, your orgasm cut short.
He stands over you, his chest heaving, his gaze locked on your face. You shrink under his gaze not daring to question him why he stopped, you know everything is your fault. NO, he made you believe everything is your fault, but you cannot help but accept it, you cannot help but accept his cock inside you.
Gojo leans down, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Look at you, clenching around nothing, desperate for my cock." He mocks, his hands gripping your thighs. "Worthless slut."
He licks your clit, a cruel smirk on his face. You whimper, your body trembling with need. His tongue teases your clit, your moans growing louder. He chuckles, enjoying your helplessness.
Gojo's hand glides over your body, his touch electric. "Do you want me to finish you off?" His voice is a combination of cruelty and seduction.
Your heart races, your body trembling with need. You nod, unable to speak, your mind filled with a mix of shame and lust. He grins, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Gojo raises an eyebrow, his gaze locked on your face. "Beg for it, slut." He demands, his voice thick with lust.
You hesitate, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. He slaps your pussy, making you jolt. "Beg," he repeats, his voice cold.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding, "please, make me cum..." You whisper, your voice barely audible.
Gojo's eyes squint, "Hmm, how about you say you love me 69 times then I will think of it."
Your eyes widen, your heart racing with a mix of anger and desperation. You know you have to do it. "I love you," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." Your voice grows stronger as you continue, each 'I love you' more genuine than the last.
Gojo watches you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He leans down, his tongue darting out to trace the curve of your clit. "Keep going.." He orders, his voice rough with desire
You nod, your face heating up with desire and shame. "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.
Gojo's tongue traces your clit, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body trembling with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust.
He slips two fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Keep going..."
Your heart races, your body trembling, "I love you... I love you... I love Satoru..." You repeat, your voice growing stronger with each word.
Gojo's fingers slide inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You moan, your body shaking with need. He smiles, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes.. yes" He encourages, his voice rough with desire.
You continue to profess your love, your body trembling with a mix of desire and shame.
After what feels like an eternity, Gojo slides his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue. You whimper, your body trembling with anticipation.
He licks your clit, his tongue tracing the curve of your most sensitive spot. "Good girl," he praises you, his voice thick with lust. "Sixty-nine times, I counted each 'I love you.'" He chuckles, his eyes locked on your face. "That's a lot of love for me, baby," he teases, his voice filled with satisfaction. "Now, let's make you cum."
His tongue traces the your walls, his movements slow and deliberate. His eyes locked on your face for your reaction. "You taste so good, so wet and needy."
Your abdomen shaking as you move your hips against his face, you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure as you cum. You collapse there, your heart pounding with a mix of ecstasy and shame.
"Untie me now," you plead, your voice shaking with emotion. But Gojo shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, "Nah uh, not till I cum, filling your little pussy."
He inserts himself back inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. Your pussy is oversensitive, making you cry out in pain. "No more," you beg, your voice filled with desperation.
Gojo grits his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he feels your walls clenching around him uncontrollably. He slows his pace, allowing you time to adjust to your oversensitivity.
As you recover, he starts thrusting into you, his movements slow and deliberate at first. His pace gradually increases, his eyes locked on your face. "You like being a slut for your boyfriend, isn't it?" He growls, his voice thick with lust.
You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self respect anymore.
As he thrusts into you, his movements become faster, his eyes locked on your face. "Good girl," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You're such a good little whore, aren't you?"
You moan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes," you admit, not caring about your self-respect anymore. "I'm your little slut."
Gojo chuckles, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hmphh, keep squeezing me.. A-ah," he growls, his pace increasing even more.
Your eyes roll at the way he's choking and fucking you like a monster, his hands around your neck, his thrusts relentless. Gojo leans down, his lips colliding with yours in a rough kiss.
You moan into his mouth, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. He pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Hah! You gonna cum again?," he mocks.
You groan, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and fear. "Yes.. Hngh- please I am gonna cum again" You admit, your voice shaking with emotion.
As he thrusts into you, his movements become frenzied. "Y/N, let's... try it again.. together... Can't you imagine? How lovely you will look with your tummy swollen and round with my baby, and milk flowing from your breasts. Just think of it", he bites his lips imaging all of that. He unties your hands, letting them grip onto anything they find.
Your mind is unable to make out his words, you just nod, taking his cock like a doll.
He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he sucks on your nipple. "Gonna fill you, hmmph," whimpers escape his lips, "You are so obedient for me baby."
As Gojo nears his climax, his thrusts become frantic, his movements fierce. You cry out, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.
His thrusts become stronger, his movements more intense. Your walls clench around him, milking him as you cum again. He roars, his eyes locked on your face. "Yes, cum for me, baby, cum for your strongest boyfriend," he growls, his voice thick with lust.
He fills you with his seed, his movements slowing as he finishes. "You did well, baby," he pants, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He loosens his grip on your neck, allowing you to breathe.
You collapse against him, your heart racing with a mix of pleasure and fear. "F' me, am your little.. slut.. ." You whisper, before passing out .
Gojo's lips caress your bruised neck, licking them before giving you a small peck on your lips. "I love you, Y/N, I appreciate you," he mutters, his voice thick with lust. "But I ain't gonna spoil you."
He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Both of you fall asleep in each other's arms, exhausted from the passionate night.
In the darkness of the night, he whispers in your ear, "Never gonna let you escape me, my little play thing."
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#gojo jjk#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo smut#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x y/n#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo angst#yandere#yandere boyfriend#yandere gojo#yandere jjk
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best dress * fem!driver
when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who sheâs out and about with on a saturday night
pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver
warnings: none
notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one⌠and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down
(series masterlist) | (đ the rookie season)
-> the aftermath
she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleaguesâ attentions. thereâs many nights sheâd appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.
she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.
âhey, where are you going?â she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets landoâs curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. âand why are you all dressed up?â
she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.
âum,â she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. âiâm going out tonight.â
landoâs smile drops. âoh,â he slouches, âi was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.â
âhey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?â oscarâs jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. âwhere are you even going?â
âout,â she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. itâs so close yet so far away. âiâll see you guys tomorrow, okay? iâve really got to go.â
âbut you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,â lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. âi canât believe youâd betray me like that.â
oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels sheâs put on. âwhy are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?â
âexploring the city!â
âexploring the câ weâre here year after year. we know the best spots!â lando defends. âcome on! weâre going to have so much fun!â
âyouâre exploring the city in heels?â
she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesnât wear high heels for exploration purposes. âyeah.â
âyou know you want to come with us.â lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. âfine. be that way.â
âiâm sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,â she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. âif you guys are going out tomorrow, iâm free to join.â
lando intertwines his fingers. âokay. but if you cancel again, iâm crashing into you the next race.â
âokay,â she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. âiâll catch you guys tomorrow.â
oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. âdonât get lost. itâs a big city, (y/n).â
âyeah, penelopeâs doing amazing,â max nods, his arm resting on the back of landoâs chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. âshe just started school recently.â
âoh, i s-â
âhold up!â lando holds his arm out to maxâs chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. âoh, my god!â
âwhat?â max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking landoâs thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.
âyeah, donât cut me off,â george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. âi was just asking if-â
â(y/n)âs out on a date!â lando yells, smacking maxâs chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into georgeâs lap. âdude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason sheâs all dressed up!â
âseriously!â george screams towards his fellow brit.
âa date?â oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. âthereâs no way.â
max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. âiâm afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,â max states, âitâs all over instagram.â
oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, itâs similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that itâs her?
âwe should go and find her!â max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks georgeâs thigh lightly. âdude, letâs find her!â
âare you crazy?â george grabs maxâs hand and throws it back at his body. âher dateâs none of our business!â
though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. âletâs go, gentlemen. weâre crashing (y/n)âs date.â
but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. âiâm ready. iâve got my brave face on.â
âyou look absolutely ridiculous,â george raises an eyebrow, âi donât believe you used to scare off victoriaâs suitors when you were younger.â
âme neither, but it somehow worked,â max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. âcome on! this is practice for when itâs penelopeâs turn! i have to make it believable this time.â
âyouâre so drunk, mate,â george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. âbut i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.â
lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesnât get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.
lando slouches. âwhy not?â
âi absolutely donât believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,â oscar shakes his head, âbut iâve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.â
george tilts his head. âwhat?â
oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. âshe gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.â
âso?â max yanks oscar off his seat. âiâll protect you. come on, iâve got to see whoâs sweeping (y/n) off her feet.â
âokay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,â oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.
after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. itâs a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.
âare you sure itâs this one?â oscar looks up at the sign. itâs a lot fancier than he expected. âdoesnât really seem like (y/n)âs gig.â
âif i were taking the gridâs princess out on a date, iâd take her to a fancy restaurant too,â max shrugs, following oscarâs stare.
the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.
george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. âare you sure itâs here? i donât see her.â
âthe girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,â lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. âwhat if (y/n) tricked us knowing weâd come running?â
once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.
âi donât see her,â max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurantâs tables and picking up the menu. âthereâs no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.â
âbecause sheâs in the far corner over there,â oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where itâs slightly darker than normal. âi noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.â
george slowly turns his head to oscar. âwhile we were busting our asses looking for her?â
oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. âi told you â iâm not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.â
ânice! thereâs a table closer to her!â max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. âcome on!â
they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.
theyâre a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. âdude, who is she with?â
âi donât know, i canât get a look at his face without revealing mine,â george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. âmax, your turn.â
âdonât make it look obvious,â lando mutters, nudging maxâs elbow with his. âlook like youâre looking for a waiter.â
max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.
âdude, i canât,â max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.
to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. âwhat are you idiots doing here?â
georgeâs jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. âwe could ask you the same.â
âwe saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.â the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. âwe followed her here.â
âso you know who sheâs with?â max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. âyou havenât ordered anything?â
âit took us a while to get a table,â logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. âfoodâs in the kitchen.â
âoh, what did you get?â max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.
âmate!â george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. âwho is she with?â
âaccording to blythe, itâs jacob elordi,â sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. âwhoever that is.â
âoh, iâve heard of him,â max nods, pressing his lips together. âhe was in euphoria, wasnât he?â
the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. âkelly and i like to watch shows over the break.â
âstill not a show i expected you to be watching,â lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. âisnât he a bit too old for her?â
max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. âdude. easy on the age gap.â
âyours doesnât count,â lando sighs, âsheâs practically a baby!â
oscar clicks his tongue. âbut i mean⌠jacob elordi isnât ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?â
max shrugs. âi guess.â
sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. âwhere did she go? did she ditch him?â
âno, she caught you.â a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of loganâs head and shoves him forward slightly. âwhy are you here? youâre better than this!â
logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. âyou were being secretive! i was just curious!â
âthis is the last time iâm going on a date from the paddocks,â she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. âgo home, you guys! weâll talk about this tomorrow.â
sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. âwe already got some food.â
she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. âyouâre here too?â
max nods. âi suggested this,â his eyes go around the table, âteam bonding activity.â
âi just wanted to see what would happen,â george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, âhe said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.â
âitâs true, i heard him say it,â lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. âwe were just concerned about you.â
sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. âdonât be mad anymore. come onâŚâ
âand you!â she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. âi told you to stop meddling with my love life!â
âwhat?â oscar screams back, dropping his menu. âi was dragged here against my will!â
âi donât believe you!â
âmax!â oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.
max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. âright! right⌠we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.â
âgood,â she scolds, turning on her heel. âweâre leaving.â
âbut we just got here!â lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. âi mean, enjoy your time and donât get too tired. itâs race day tomorrow.â
oscar doesnât bother looking at her again. âsee you tomorrow, loser.â
âwhere are you going?â george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. âback to the hotel for some fun time?â
âa walk,â she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. âmy heels are killing me.â
âoh, iâve got you,â sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. âi saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.â
she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. âyou took these from my room, didnât you?â
sebastian shrugs. âyou donât wear heels very often, kid.â
âgive me recommendations for date places,â logan smiles. âmaybe next time iâll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.â
her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. âi will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.â
oscar waves her towards the door. âi trust youâll text logan and i about this later.â
âhey, i want in!â lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.
âdude, this is seriously none of our business.â
taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife
#sebastian vettel x reader#oscar piastri x reader#logan sargeant x reader#george russell x reader#lando norris x reader#max verstappen x reader#female driver#f1 fem!driver#f1 female driver#f1 x reader#f1 grid x reader#formula 1 fem!drive#fem!driver#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1
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Poker Face!
_______________
Spencer Reid x Reader
:: Itâs game night at Rossiâs, a little pasta al dente, poker chips from Emilyâs place, and a little too much Italian red wine. Poker after hours becomes a new playing field when you and Spencer decide to finish your game of blackjack back in his place. ::
:: warnings :: smuttt! and super mushy gushy fluff, sex under the influence (both parties drank alcohol), strip poker (kinda youâre playing blackjack), afab!reader, no mention of contraceptives oops...
:: authorsâ notes :: i didnât realize until i finished the story that spencer probably has his own poker set, heâs literally from vegas; anyway thanks for all the love on my last fic too sweet, hope you guys enjoy this one just as much <3
WC~ 3.1 k
________________
âOk, ok! Thatâs enough!â Emily shouted, swinging her glass around.Â
âCareful, Prentiss. This carpet is fine Italian wool. Gifted from my first mother-in-law,â Rossi scolded, Hotch chuckling beside him.Â
âYou guys are relentless,â she continued.
âI can beat him, I know it!â you shouted, your eyes comically wide.Â
âNo shot, sweetheart. Reid is literally banned from every casino in Vegas, you think you can really beat him?â Derek commented.
âI may not be banned from Vegas casinos, but I never lose Blackjack,â you argued.
âHoney, youâve lost eight games in a row!â JJ shouted, laughing and holding her stomach.Â
âNevermind that! Iâm gonna beat you Reid, if it's the last thing I do,â you narrowed your eyes playfully at Spencer, who sat as dealer with a giant grin on his face.
âI hate to interrupt this incredibly captivating game of Blackjack, but Iâm kicking you out. It's late and an old manâs got to get some rest,â Rossi interrupted, erupting a series of âBooâsâ and groans.Â
âCome on, come on. Call your DDâs, call your taxi cabs. Or if you want to stay, you can start washing the dishes,â he bargained.Â
Suddenly, all at once, everyone stood up practically scrambling and giggling like kids to avoid cleaning up. Penelope, Emily, and Derek hopped into a cab and Hotch drove JJ home then himself considering he hadn't anything to drink that night. That left you and Spencer, lingering on the sidewalk nudging each other in a fit of giggles.Â
âI assume youâre gonna take a cab?â he asked you.
âThatâs the plan.â
âSo we can share since I donât live far from you. Iâll walk from your place,â he suggested.Â
âOh no, no. Look what I snatched when everyone started leaving,â you pulled out the briefcase of poker chips that Emily had brought for that night out of your tote, âWeâre going to your place and finishing what we started.âÂ
âOh boy, you have no idea how long it's gonna take. Weâre gonna be up all night!â Spencer laughed, and you gasped.Â
âYouâre an asshole,â you shoved him, before calling a taxi.
You squeezed in the back of the cab, legs bumping against each other. You felt your skin light up, youâve always felt a certain way about Spencer. I mean who wouldnât? Well actually, not a lot of people. You always tried to hide the pangs of jealousy or your faces of reluctance whenever the women you were working with or interviewed on cases would flirt with him, unnecessarily albeit. This happened more often than you care to admit or notice.Â
You walked into Spencerâs apartment, tossing your bag on the couch before falling to your knees and putting the briefcase on his coffee table. You opened it up and began shuffling the cards, quite intensely to make sure Spencer wasnât going to cheat. You knew he wasnât, his brain was too smart, but you did it for confidence instead.Â
âDo you want anything to drink?â he asked from the kitchen.
âWhatcha you got?â you asked.
âIâve got a couple of beers, probably a little old. Oh, I still have the bottle of wine that Rossi gave to us for the new year,â he told you.
âOh! Bring the wine! Weâll drink the beers later,â you winked at him, âLetâs get the fucking party started.â
It was late into the night now. You lost count how many times youâd lost to Spencer already. Just a couple of hours passed, and the wine was almost finished. You and Spencer couldnât stop laughing and wiggling around. As Spencer shuffled the deck, a request you made him do after every turn, you came up with a devilish idea. One that would definitely get you in trouble should the outcome be anything other than what you would hope.Â
âOoh,â you cooed, mischievously.
âWhat?â Spencer questioned.
âOh, nothing, just had an idea,â you were smirking, or rather trying really hard not to burst into laughter.Â
âThis canât be good,â he mumbled, shaking his head.Â
âWhy donât we spice things up, shall we?â
âNo, no way,â Spencer already knew what you were going to say.Â
âStrip Poker!âÂ
âNo!â he shouted, a big smile on his face contradicting his words.
âWhat, you scared? Scared that suddenly Iâm starting to beat you and youâre gonna have to take all your clothes off?â you teased.
âNo, I am a gentleman and Iâm not gonna sit through watching you take all your clothes to prove a point,â he argued sassily.
âYou are way too confident for your own good, Dr. Spencer Reid. Youâre just chicken.â
âOk, fine then. You dealer, or am I?â he asked, pouring the last bit of wine into your cup.Â
âWhy donât you hit me this time,â you said.Â
âYou got it,â he responded, âCare to shuffle while I grab the beers?â
âOf course. About time we crack those open,â you smiled widely.Â
Now sitting down, face to face. Staring intensely at each other for a moment, hints of mischief and amusement in both your eyes. As you shuffled the cards well, Spencer couldnât help notice the way your eyes were practically sparkling in the warm light of his apartment. How soft your skin looked in the light too. He doesnât know when it happened. If it happened just now, or maybe heâs always felt this way about you.Â
Maybe it was those times where he felt a little more protective over you than the others on more brutal cases. The feeling of responsibility for you, to guide you, when you first join the team since you were the same age. Or maybe it was when you let him practically talk your ear off about peculiar facts regarding the case you had wrapped up. The small smile of your face knowing he thrived in these moments. The sweet giggle you let out when Morgan and Prentiss groaned knowing he would begin yet another tangent.Â
Yeah, it was definitely then he realized how special you were and how much he wanted to keep you in his life; in more ways than one.
But in this moment, when you handed him the cards with the most devilish smirk on your face, Spencer felt a wave of avidity, longing for you more than he ever has before. He felt so conflicted about the game you were about to play. He respected you so much and yet craved to see you, to have you, in this very way for so long already. He didnât know what to do. He dealt the cards however, entertaining the idea, and you tapped the table for cards before taking a big swig of your beer.
âFuck,â you muttered under your breath, Spencerâs breath hitched.Â
You took off your earrings first and Spencer quirked an eyebrow.Â
âWhat? Were you expecting me to take off my shirt right away?â
âNo,â he shrugged before giving you the deck to shuffle again.Â
âI swear to-â you cursed, pulling off one of your rings this time.
Your shoes came off, then your socks. All your accessories were scattered on the table before you. The last game you stood up unbuttoning your pants. Spencer clenched his jaw, averting his eyes downward as you peeled your pants down your legs. It took quite literally everything in him to not drool over you. You sank back down to the ground, the bottom half of your body shielded by the table and Spencer looked back at you again. He dealt the cards. You asked for a card, and Spencer knew then you would lose. The probability was certain. When he hit Blackjack and you didnât, Spencer gulped and you sighed in defeat.Â
Staring boldly at Spencer, you disrobed your last garment that would give you some kind of modesty. Your bra is on full display with nothing else but your pair of underwear. You had a crucial decision to make if you ended up losing again and you were seriously considering that would be the case, the butterflies erupting violently in your belly.Â
âWe donât have to keep going,â Spencer cleared his throat.
âAnd why would I do that?â Maybe it was the alcohol in your system that gave you this sudden courage, this seduction. You were starting to have fun seeing Spencer squirming on the couch, the bobbing of his Adamâs apple. You suddenly wanted to egg this round on as long as you can.Â
âOk, then,â he muttered, as he dealt the cards, slowly this time.
Spencer had a face down card, assuming it was a value of ten like always, and an eight. You had a seven and a three, you were fucked. You needed an ace and youâd hit blackjack, or you could build up; but thatâs risky. Maybe Spencer can go over. You had a chance, you know it. Your chest was moving fast and shallow, but your face was stoic and firm. Spencer on the other hand was antsy; his eyes frantic and his leg bouncing. You knew he was staring at your chest. You planned to use it to your advantage. Was it fair game? Yeah, yeah it was. It wasnât your fault he was distracted.
âHit me,â you egged.
âYou got it,â he responded.Â
A five. Fuck.Â
Spencer hit himself and he drew a seven. Those are bad cards. He most likely went over and you might actually finally beat him.Â
âOne more time, boy wonder,â you snapped. A six. A beautiful six of hearts.Â
âI stand,â he mutters, probably knowing he lost.Â
âLetâs see those cards, baby,â you teased.
âYou first,â he told you, and placed your cards.Â
âBlackjack, baby!âÂ
Spencer laid his cards revealing his seven and eight and underneath a nine, he busted; the cards of course. You won, you finally won. You jumped up in celebration, prancing in your undergarments around the room giggling and cheering.Â
âI did it! I fucking did it! I beat the boy genius, fair and fucking square! You lose Spencer, loser!â you shouted taunting him and he couldnât help the smile painted in his blushing face; he almost forgot you were prancing around almost naked in the middle of his apartment.Â
âI- I was distracted,â he shuttered.Â
âDamn right you were,â you joked, squeezing your breasts to flaunt them in his face.Â
âIt wasnât fair game,â he bantered.
âIt wasnât fair game, my ass. I won and you lost, and youâre being a sore loser,â you mocked as you walked towards him like a panther, playfulness and seduction dripping from your tongue.Â
Spencer took the moment you walked near and grabbed your wrist yanking you to stumble into his lap. You were shocked, surprised, a little turned on. You held onto his shoulders, your breathing a little quicker than before. You tried to convince yourself it was from the celebratory dance and not the growing bulge from Spencer that poked you from beneath.Â
âI told you, I was distracted,â he told you, his hands finding a place at their hips. Fingers caressing delicately the hem of your underwear.Â
âBlah, blah,â you whispered.
âDonât give me that.â
âNow, Spence, I believe there is something you have to do, is there not?â you whispered.
âWhatâs that?â he bantered.
âYou lost.â
âRight, unfairly I might add,â he joked.
âIf all youâre gonna do is talk, then let me do the honors,â you told him.Â
âBe my guest.â
Your fingers pulled gently at his tie he wore, pulling over his head and tossing it to the side on the floor. You started unbuttoning his shirt, Spencer staring with heavy eyes at you as you did so.
âI thought we were only taking off one item. We should play another round then if you want my shirt off,â he teased you, bringing his hands to gently hold your wrists.
âLike thatâs gonna happen,â you rolled your eyes playfully.Â
Spencer relaxed against the back of the couch as you unbutton his shirt all the way. You brought your lips down to kiss softly at his collarbones and his shoulder. Moving along his chest to kiss the other side. His hands moved slowly against your hips, fingers sliding between the fabric of your underwear and your skin. Your skin erupted in chills, a tingle running through your spine making your ears feel hot. You dragged your nose along his strong jawline before nipping your teeth playfully against his cheek.Â
He brought his hands up, fingertips tracing your spine until he reached your bra. He skillfully unhooked it leaving you a bit breathless for just a second but a second too long. You could feel it, without even needing to look at him, to know he had such a teasing smile on his gorgeous face. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off him.Â
You shrugged your bra off, tossing behind him giving him a playful wink which made him chuckle. You brought his hands to your breasts as you pulled his head towards you by the back of his neck to kiss him feverishly. Something you both had wanted to do for quite some time now. You wiggled your hips a bit, feeling the prodding against your center, which made Spencer groan lowly in the kiss; his hands squeezing your breasts hard in discomfort.Â
âFuck, youâre gonna drive me insane,â he told you.
âLet me say hi to your little friend, Spence. Or do you want to play for that too?â you taunted him.
âGod, no. I couldnât wait a whole other hour for you to beat me again,â he bantered making you scoff and roll your eyes; his hands shot straight to his zipper to pull his pants down just enough for the both of you.Â
You were practically itching to get your panties off. Standing up suddenly, both you and Spencer reached instinctively to pull them off you, his lips attaching themselves to your soft belly and hips. He freed himself from the constricting fabric of his pants and pulled you down, or rather yanked you to him. You couldnât help the bubbly laugh that came from you making Spencer smile blissfully.Â
You bite your lip as you reach between your bodies, lining Spencer up against you perfectly. The warmth radiating from you was driving him crazy. It took everything in him to not suddenly take control and rut his hips against you. You sank slowly down on his length, not so little, you thought yourself.
âOh jeez, I feel like I could come already,â you gasped, the pressure building in the pit of your stomach felt already overwhelming. Maybe it was the fact you hadnât had sex in years. You felt starved of this kind of touch, this kind of intimacy. The kind of feeling of Spencerâs cold fingertips touching and gliding across your skin like you were glass. Yeah, that was the feeling you didnât know you needed, you didnât realize you craved so much until this very moment.Â
âIâm a bit embarrassed to admit the same,â he chuckled breathlessly, âIf you donât start moving, Iâm not gonna be able to hold myself back any longer.â
You took this as the green light to start rocking your hips back and forth. One hand resting against his cheek and the other stabilizing yourself against the frame of the couch. Spencerâs hands rocked with you, his way of helping and understanding the rhythm you were going. He started, with gaining confidence, to buck his hips into you and thatâs when the pleasure began to build. You panted heavily above him, moans every now and then escaping your mouth to echo against the walls of Spencerâs small apartment.Â
âShit. You feel so good,â he breathed out, âI thought Iâd last longer.â
âPlease, please donât come yet,â you begged; bringing your forehead to his. You could see his skin becoming shiny with sweat, his cheeks flush with redness. Spencer, determined to make you come before him, or at the very least with him, reached between your thighs rubbing fast and swift circles against your clit. Your hips jerked with pleasure and Spencerâs name dripped from your lips like honey.Â
âOh, thatâs it,â Spencer whispered. His free hand came up and pulled you in a passionate and sloppy kiss. His tongue entwined with your and you moaned wildly as did he. His brain was fuzzy, not that yourâs wasnât also, with the sounds of sex, the rhythm of your hips, the warmth of your slick soaking his fingers.Â
âIâm close, fuck Iâm so close, Spence,â you whined.
âLet go, sweetheart.â
âNgh!â you moaned loudly. You dipped your head forward resting your forehead in the crook of his neck. Your bodies were so close, your bare chests pressed against each other. You both could feel the otherâs breath and slowly you began to match each otherâs erratic rhythm the closer you got to your climaxes. You messily pressed your lips against Spencerâs one last time before the wave of electrifying pleasure overcame you.Â
When you came down from your high, all you could feel and hear in that moment was Spencer. His soft pants brushing your ear, his arms cradling you close, his subtle leg shaking from what you assume was him also coming with you.Â
âThat was really good,â you giggled.
âIt really was,â he agreed.
âIâm gonna tell everyone about this,â you whispered wickedly.Â
âWhat?â Spencer questioned fearfully.Â
âI beat you in Blackjack,â you reminded him, making him laugh loudly.Â
âGive it a rest you would?â he sighed.Â
âNo way. Iâm gonna tell everyone. And everyoneâs gonna tease you because I beat you fair and square. Unless, you wanna admit that my boobs were distracting you from your card counting tricks,â you teased.
âAlright, you won fair and square,â he smiled blissfully at you, his eyes soft and gentle in the warm light.
You giggled sweetly bringing him in a tender kiss, definitely not for the last time that night. Your bodies were entwined for the rest of the night until the tepid sunrays peaked meekly through the curtains of Spencerâs bedroom window. The two of you sharing giggles between the sheets with his arms embracing you the way they had been all night. Needless to say, blackjack continues to be your favorite poker game. Especially now more than ever.Â
#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#mgg fluff#mgg x reader#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#criminal minds smut#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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rubberband
featuring -> luke hughes x female reader
word count -> 2.8k
genre -> fluff/angst
summary -> luke comes back to umich, but he canât avoid seeing you
note -> italics are flashbacks
The start of another school year meant another fall semester filled with football, house parties, and memories. You and your friends had just finished moving in the day before, Saturday being blocked off on your calendar as the day of welcome back parties all over campus. Typically you would have one house in mind to go to, but since heâd left Michigan, you werenât a fan. Not that the other guys that were still around werenât great, but the memories that remained after Luke had moved on to New Jersey were still so fresh for you. Though it was your Senior year, and you were trying your best to make it a great one.
You and your friends headed down the sidewalk, closing in on the hockey house and you could feel your palms growing sweaty. The house still looked just as it did the first night youâd shown up there Freshman year, not a clue of who you would meet that night.
-
âCan I get you anything?â
Looking up, your eyes met those of the curly haired Freshman youâd heard was named Luke. He smiled softly down at you, noticing how shy youâd become looking over the large amount of alcohol they had covering their kitchen counter. Your freehand scratching at the skin of your wrist, a nervous habit Luke surely noticed but found cute, smiling down at you as you nodded.
âUm, sure.â
âWeâve got beer, vodka, tequila. Though I would not recommend that unless youâre actually trying to die tonight.â
You laughed at his joking as he gave you the grand tour of the bottom shelf alcohol that the boys could afford. Though no one minding as they more so cared about being drunk than what the liquids tasted like.
âWhat are you drinking?â
Luke looked at his solo cup, making a face before returning eye contact.
âBeer, but if Iâm honest I wouldnât recommend this either. Itâs awful to be blunt.â
The two of you laughed together, your eyes scouring the options once again as the only logical choice remained, vodka. Luke poured you some into a cup, letting you decide on what youâd opt to mix into the alcohol. Though he mentioned he wouldnât judge if you drank it straight, but surely it would taste worse that way.
âIâm Luke.â
âY/n.â
âWell y/n, can I give you the tour?â
-
Little did you know it, but at the time Luke was using the excuse of a tour as a way to get away from the party. He wasnât the biggest party animal his Freshman year, enjoying the opportunity to sneak away with you for a bit and relax. His favorite spot was to sneak up onto the roof, not many people knew how and it was often quiet up there.
But it was clear that had changed as the roof was currently crowded with tens of people seated around, some chugging beers and tossing them to the ground below. Others shouting at the crowd below over the music that was blasting from the house.
-
âSo Luke Hughes, how long until people discover our secret spot?â
The two of you had been keeping up the routine of sneaking to the roof for several weekends now. No one ever seemed to notice, and even if they did they made their own assumptions of what the two of you were doing.
âHmm, well, I would hope they never do. Iâd love for this to stay our spot. But, I would say maybe two more weekends and we will get kicked out.â
He sipped his beer as the two of you watched the party taking place below. Always loving to watch his teammates try their luck with different girls; some succeeding, others striking out.
âCan I ask you something?â
You looked to Luke, his smile fading as he looked more sincere, nodding his head as his way of asking you to continue.
âDo you, are weâŚsorry, I just. I donât want to read too much into anything, but, what would you say this is? Like with us?â
Luke sighed softly, sipping his beer as he tried to find the right response. Making you nervously scratch at your wrist as you were immediately regretting even asking the question. Surely he didnât see this as anything, he was focused on hockey not relationships.
âI think this is, comfortable? It feels right? I donât know, I just really like you being here with me. I canât describe it, but it feels natural. What do you think?
He nervously sipped his beer while you now tapped the side of your seltzer, nodding slightly in agreement as you were thinking of your own response.
âI agree. It feels right, whatever it is. I just enjoy the time I get with you, always. And, Iâm happy here.â
âMe too.â
Lukeâs smile faded as he slowly moved closer to you, his hand tucking some of your hair behind your ear before resting on your cheek. You could feel his breath against your lips he was so close to you. Your eyes darted from his lips to his eyes as time felt like it was frozen before heâd finally kissed you. The two of you tangling your hands into each other's hair, the taste of alcohol mixed with your chapstick. Neither one of you fighting for dominance, simply letting the moment happen how it may.
Luke finally pulled away, a blush on his cheeks as he scratched his head. Slightly embarrassed at his forwardness, but appreciating that you didnât seem to turn down his actions.
âStill feels right?â
âMhm, definitely.â
Luke smiled as he looked down, messing with the bracelets on his wrist, pulling a simple rubberband type off and grabbing for your hand.
âHere.â
He placed the bracelet on your wrist with a smile, admiring how it looked despite its simple nature.
âWhenever youâre feeling nervous, when youâre missing me, or whatever the case may be. Iâll be there.â
You smiled at the rubberband, lightly snapping it against your skin. Realizing that not only was it a reminder of Luke, but something to help your nervous habit heâd obviously picked up on. Appreciating the gesture and that heâd noticed the small quirk about you.
-
That bracelet was your source of comfort during numerous finals weeks, a stress reliever during all of Lukeâs home games as youâd snap it against your skin. And even with Luke leaving for New Jersey, the bracelet remained as a symbol of his promise to always come back.
Things between you and Luke had continued similarly to how theyâd started your Freshman year. Though never putting a label on things, it was common knowledge that you were certainly more than nothing, you were something.
You watched the group of girls from across the way, crowding around in hopes to get to see the guys after their big win. It was a normal occurrence, especially with girls from opposing schools. And while you and Luke were definitely secure in your relationship, you still couldnât help but feel a bit jealous.
Watching how the girls all flocked to him, asking for pictures, trying to create small talk. Luke of course too nice to ignore them, simply smiling through it all.
Looking up, his eyes met yours, his smile growing wide as he excused himself from the group of girls. Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist as he picked you up, stealing a kiss before setting you back down.
âYouâve got some groupies huh?â
Luke rolled his eyes with a short, placing an arm around your shoulder as you two started off towards the exit.
âOnly one groupie I have eyes for babe.â
-
Things were great with Luke, that was until heâd gotten drafted by the Devils. You knew the day was likely to come at some point, but you never thought about what it would be like when it finally did.
The conversation hadnât really taken place regarding what would happen for the two of you if and when he made the move to New Jersey. But once things were official, and he was leaving, you were faced with the inevitable.
-
âSo, you werenât gonna tell me until the day you were leaving?â
You looked to Luke through tear filled eyes. While you wanted to be happy and excited for him, having just signed his entry level contract with the Devils. You were heartbroken that in the same day heâd achieved his dreams, he was also telling you goodbye.
âI know, itâs the worst possible way to tell you. But, believe me, this is all happening so fast there was no right time for any of this. I hate having to just up and leave you. I won't be that far, you can come visit me, we will see each other in the summer. This doesnât change anything.â
Luke looked down to see you nervously pulling at the rubberband that was on your wrist. Smiling softly as he knew you hadnât once taken it off since heâd given it to you over a year ago.
Taking your hands in his he tried his best to relax your mind that he could see was racing with a million and one thoughts.
âLook at me, I promise, this doesnât change things okay?â
You wanted to believe him, that him only being a few states away wouldnât change anything. That youâd continue with your relationship exactly how it had been. That you could snap the rubberband on your wrist whenever you were sad, anxious, or missing him, and it would all magically get better. But you couldnât help but be nervous about what this next step meant for him. Leaving you behind at school, while you knew it was bound to happen, didnât feel any less shitty than all the times youâd tried to prepare yourself for it.
âYou promise?â
Luke cupped your face as he brought your lips to his, the kiss nothing more than a longing peck, but enough to make your racing thoughts cease for even a moment.
âI promiseâ
-
But his promises fell short, and those summerâs at the lake house never happened. One trip to New Jersey was all youâd gotten, and soon enough Luke had become mostly a memory.
Text messages and calls were here and there, his schedule keeping him busier than he ever was at Michigan. Youâd tried your best to hold out hope, telling yourself that heâd made a promise to you. But as more time went on, youâd begun to realize that maybe all this relationship was with Luke, was nothing more than a casual thing. That despite how much he cared about you, and all the promises heâd made, he wasnât looking for something serious. That he wasnât serious about you.
Making your way up the stairs of the hockey house, youâd noticed several familiar faces along with several new ones. The freshman players were easier to spot, as they reminded you of Luke on the night youâd first met him. Timid compared to the veteran guys who were screaming about games of pong and beer die that were set to start in the backyard.
You felt yourself growing a bit anxious, wondering why youâd come back to a house that held so many memories. While they were mostly good, they made you think of Luke.
Heading out to the backyard, you found comfort in the sea of people. Knowing that youâd easily be able to get lost among them, distract yourself from the familiar faces while you hoped the alcohol you planned to consume would ease your nerves.
Following behind your friend, you found yourself subconsciously snapping the band at your wrist, trying to distract yourself from any Luke related thoughts that crept into your mind.
Taking a solo cup from her hand, your friend began talking about the way the girls at the party seemed to flock to all the hockey guys as they stood on the back porch. The two of you laughed, knowing you once were like them. Drooling over the shirtless boys at the house, thinking they were the hottest thing on campus. Wanting to be able to say youâd gotten the chance to talk to one of the hockey boys at the party.
âOh my god, y/n, please donât look at the porch.â
Your friend reached for your arm, turning you to face her so your back was to the group of men on the porch. Naturally you looked over your shoulder as you were curious what she didnât want you to see. But the moment you saw him, you felt your heart sink.
âY/n, Iâm sorry. We can leave.â
Obviously, Luke had every right to be there. He did go to Michigan and played hockey for the school. But you werenât expecting to see him back since heâd moved on to the NHL. Especially not expecting to see him shirtless at the hockey house looking more amazing than ever. Girls crowded around him, all hoping to get even just a touch of his hand on their skin to be able to brag about for the next month.
Before you could make a decision about leaving, Lukeâs attention had turned in your direction. Slightly lowering his sunglasses from his eyes, they met yours as he stood shocked to have seen you.
You could feel the goosebumps beginning to cover your skin, your heart racing as Luke began to make his way over to you. Instinctually, you headed through the crowd, wanting to be anywhere but this house. Luke set down his beer as he took off after you.
âY/n, come on. Please y/n!â
His hand grabbed your arm as he caught up to you, stopping you in your tracks as you turned to face him.
âWhat?â
Your tone was harsh as you tried hiding the pain in your voice, but the tears in your eyes of course gave it away. Lukeâs heart sinking seeing you hurt, never expecting this moment to happen, otherwise he might have prepared better. But for the moment, he was at a loss for words.
âI, Iâm sorry. For everything. I know thatâs not specific, but Iâm honestly just shocked to see you.â
You laughed as you wiped your tears that were threatening to fall. Shaking your head you searched for the right words, trying not to start a fight in the alley next to the hockey house. People occasionally walking by, a scene not something that was needed, especially for Luke.
âYouâre shocked to see me, on the campus of the college I go to? InterestingâŚâ
âOh come, donât be like that y/n please! Look, I get it. I fucked up, in so many ways. The summers at the lake house, you coming to New Jersey, all of it. I broke my promises to you, and I wish I could go back and change it all.â
Lukeâs eyes fell to the band on your wrist, watching as you snapped it against your skin. Hating that he was making you nervous or anxious, wishing that things could go back to normal for the two of you. But he knew heâd ruined that.
âLook I get it, if you didnât want something serious. If I was just a casual fling or something. Then fine. But why waste my time? Why make me think you liked me?â
Luke grabbed your wrist, stopping you from snapping the band any longer.
âY/n, none of that is true. It wasnât that I thought you were a casual fling. I just, I couldnât be the person you needed. With signing with the Devils and leaving here, leaving you. I just couldn't keep my promises. And it was wrong, to make you think I could. To keep you holding on if this wasnât going to happen for us. And Iâm so sorry to do that to you.â
You looked up at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, believing his words as you pulled the band from your wrist. Setting it in his hand as you nodded your head with a sigh.
âI appreciate the apology, but it doesnât change anything that happened. It doesnât change how I feel, how hurt I am by all of it. So, you can take that bracelet back. I canât keep it anymore and think about you every time I see it. That was a promise, that I could think of you and find comfort anytime I snapped it or saw it. But, I think that I need to move on. Because itâs just another broken promise at this point.â
Luke bit his tongue, knowing that despite what he wishes he could say, you donât want to hear it. Holding the bracelet tight in his hand, he watched as you pushed past him. Heading back to the party, leaving him with only the bracelet as a memory. Slipping it on to his own wrist, immediately snapping it a few times to calm his emotions before returning to join the guys on the back porch.
#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fic#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes angst#nhl imagine#nhl fics#hockey imagine#hockey fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl blurb
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Death by Stereo [Yandere Chrollo x Reader] [Vampire AU]
Title: Death by Stereo [Yandere Vampire Chrollo x Reader]
Synopsis: Youâre just a nobody living in a small town when a mysterious stranger with a leather jacket, good looks and a penchant for kissing your hand rolls in, just in time for the ever-popular summer carnival. Things are going great, until dead bodies start piling up.Â
Word count: 17,510
Notes: yandere, vampire AU, descriptions of dead bodies, some violence, gore, abuse
Thursday
Is there anything more wearisome than a small town? Small towns grind you down so slowly that you donât realize your feet have been eroded into useless nubs before itâs too late, and you have nowhere to run, even if you had the inkling to get away.Â
A small town has its charms, as they say--but it has its burdens, too. You know all the faces, but all the faces know you; some of them have even known you since you were just an ultrasound picture carried dutifully in your motherâs purse, pulled out at coffee shops and book clubs.Â
They know when you got your first period (age 13, in the middle of gym class--you were wearing white shorts); when your first boyfriend dumped you (at the school dance, right before he made out with the third most popular girl in school); what colleges you applied to, and later--why you dropped out (your dad got sick) and how he was doing (not so great but getting better) and where you worked, how you liked your coffee, and all these impersonal and personal details that made up the monotony of your life.Â
It was a trap, this small town life. A faux bubble of intimacy that your parents embraced, but youâd never fully believed. Because despite knowing so much about you, no one here really knew you. They could tell you that you looked just like your mom at her age; they could sling down a mug with your coffee order without you opening your mouth (black, 1 sugar, 1 cream, no milk)--but they didnât want to hear about how much you wanted to travel; how much you wanted to see.
Did it matter? You werenât getting out anytime soon, anyway.
Like all small towns, yours had a claim to fame. While others might boast being the hometown of some B-list celebrity or the site of an all-you-get-eat seafood festival, your particular small town had one edge over the others: a summer carnival right on the beach, designed to appeal to nearby tourists who came to much larger, resort-friendly beaches for the summer season.Â
The tourists loved to flock here on that singular summer weekend, pretending they were enjoying a quaint local carnival where they got drunk on cheap beer and sampled funnel cake until they puked. And if the locals hustled them as much as possible, overcharging for drinks and parking and sightseeing maps, was that so bad? Small towns needed to leech off new blood once in a while, after all.
The carnival was four days long--Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. Sunday was, of course, the grand finale. There was a massive fireworks show on the beach, a huge concert with local and sometimes vaguely familiar bands. A lot more booze traded hands on Saturdays, and the beach was lit up with more than just fireworks; the local volunteers always spent the next week picking up cigarette butts and discarded joints in the sand.
The carnival can be fun. Although like anything that happens every single year in a small town youâve lived in your entire life (save the one year of college you managed before your dadâs test results came back) it gets wearisome.
Still--you go. What else is there to do? Besides, youâd be stupid to deny that itâs more fun to spend your summer weekend wandering the carnival, riding a few rides, speaking to people, than to sit at home or pick up an extra shift at the diner.Â
Thatâs why youâve wandered into the carnival today--Thursday. Thursday is your favorite day of the carnival, because itâs the most quiet, relatively speaking. There are tourists here, sure, but theyâre not rowdy yet. Not as overcrowded. There arenât gaggles of kids running around with lobster-red faces and arms because theyâre parents didnât understand the necessity of sunscreen; there arenât groups of women traveling in packs with matching sunglasses and hats, enjoying a summer break away from their rich and distant husbands.
Itâs mostly locals on Thursday. People like you, bored coffee shop workers with nothing better to do on a Thursday evening.
Or people like Jake Jenson over there, currently aiming a colorful dart at a row of balloons in one of many carnival games that would hustle drunk tourists out of their money this weekend.
Jake was the town drunk--a title he gave himself, and others were only too happy to oblige him. He stuck to himself most of the time. During the carnival, he won as many carnival prizes as possible, and traded them to tourists with shitty aim for beers or cigarettes.Â
And over there--the early birds. Theyâve come three years in a row, you think from somewhere in New York. Theyâre attached at the hip, constantly rubbing their noses together like some twee movie couple, and youâve heard them complain that the boardwalks in their part of the country are a lot more âauthentic.âÂ
Sure, thereâs the familiar faces, but unfamiliar ones, too. An older gentleman and his wife, who walks next to him more slowly, with a cane. Heâs balancing a plastic plate with a fresh funnel cake in his hand. Theyâll find a bench to sit down and enjoy it, maybe people watch, like you.
Itâs time for one of your favorite games: making up stories for the various tourists you probably wonât ever see again. This couple--this is the last trip theyâll take together, because the wife got an awful diagnosis, and theyâre spending what would have been the rest of their retirement savings on the dream vacation she always wanted to take. They met during the war, decades ago⌠he was a soldier and she was a nurse, and he hurt his leg, maybe, and wound up in a field hospital.
It would have been terribly romantic.Â
Your eyes shift away from the couple and onto a few other new faces.Â
Maybe thatâs why you liked the carnival. It was nice to look at new people and imagine where they came from, what they did. The kind of life they had, which was surely more interesting and worldly than yours.
With people watching in mind, you abandon your bench in front of the games and head deeper into the carnival, weaving yourself in between snack and ticket booths, stepping over large black cables that kept the rides running.Â
Dusk had already settled in, and the warm glow of the summer had been replaced with a deepening sense of evening. The carnival lights had already begun to play against the darkening sky, creating that magical atmosphere that couldnât be replicated during the day.
You donât notice the stranger at first. Itâs dark, the lights are a bit dizzying, and there are plenty of people simply wandering around and taking in the sights. Whatâs one more stranger, when over the course of the next few hours and days, the summer will be increasingly filled with them?
But this particular stranger shows up in the corner of your vision and immediately strikes you as⌠odd. Heâs just standing there.
Watching you. Staring--right at you. What the fuck?
Heâs wearing all black, and thereâs some sort of scarf or cowl over his face. His eyes look impassive but thereâs something awful in them, even in the brief glances you get from catching him from the corner of your gaze.
What a creep.Â
It sours the mood, and you decide to leave, or at least take a break and shake off whatever out-of-towner decided to pull off his best edgy horror movie impression to creep you out. It wouldnât be the first time a tourist behaved like a jerk, or a weirdo, especially if theyâd be drinking.Â
Something about nighttime at the carnival made people go wild.Â
So you head away from it all, from the couples trying to win stuffed animals, from the giggling shrieks of people on rides that spun them upside down until they wanted to puke. And maybe you should just head right home, but itâs not fair to waste a night of good weather.
Cool, but not too cool. Pleasant. The moon is out and the stars twinkle overhead.
Heading out on the dock might be nice. Tourists donât bother with it, at least not on Thursday, when the beach isnât lit-up and thereâs no particular reason to head out this way.Â
But youâd been to this beach in the evening before; you werenât scared of the dark. By contrast, you liked the way the beach sounded at night. The water moving in and out, slow and sure. The occasional sound of wildlife splashing in the water. And the din of the carnival behind you, all rainbow lights and indiscernible human happiness.
Your joy is cut off by the sound of footsteps. Your heart leaps in your chest and your hands slam into your pocket instinctively, fumbling for your keys. Fuck, how were you supposed to use these in self-defense again? Put them between your fingers?
Your heart hammers and you slowly turn around, squinting as you make out a figure approaching you in the dark.
âIâm sorry,â a voice calls out, penitent. âDid I scare you? Iâm trying to get reception.â The man wiggles a small silver object in the air, raising it above his head. A small LED screen lights up and your heart rate begins to calm, slowly but surely.
After a few beats, he sighs, and shoves the phone in his pocket.Â
He turns, apparently to leave, but then looks back at you. âAre you all right? I really didnât mean to startle you.â
You swallow, lick your lips. Feel stupid for the keys in your fingers. He seems nice enough. A typical tourist. âUm, yeah.â You laugh, an empty sound. âI guess Iâm just a little jumpy tonight.â
The moonlight doesnât give you a clear view of the manâs features, but you can see him tilt his head a little. âJumpy?â
The keys in your pocket rattle when you let them go, and pull your hands out to point back towards the carnival. The man follows your finger with an almost studious interest.
âSomeone was following me, maybe? Or he just seemed a bit creepy.â You laugh again, a habit ingrained after years of dealing with men in odd situations--defuse, tread lightly, always. âHe was staring at me, but I couldnât see his face. He had a scarf over it, I think.â
The man in front of you hums in acknowledgement after a moment. He almost seems a little amused, which is both irritating and relieving in its own way. You were just being silly, jumpy, overreacting, werenât you? Maybe the guy wasnât even looking at you in the first place.
âCan I walk you back to the carnival? It doesnât feel right to leave you here alone.âÂ
Ah, no, you think. Sure, the man in front of you might just be a tourist in search of reception, but that doesnât mean youâre stupid. This is how people get murdered. Or attacked. Or like, hoisted into white vans and never seen again.
âNo, thatâs okay. I was going to stay out here longer and look at the stars. Iâm going home soon, anyway.â Not a complete lie, since you did really want to go home. Something like this is usually enough for most people to take the hint, right?Â
The man doesnât turn around. Instead, you see the shape of his smile, lit only by the moon in the sky above.
âYou want me to walk you back to the carnival,â he says simply, and offers his arm out, like some kind of old-fashioned gentleman.Â
Oh. Of course you do. What were you thinking, staying out here on the dock at night? Mosquitoes would eat you up, anyway.Â
You smile in return and take his offered arm, stepping lightly as you make your way back to the carnival with a complete stranger.
Only by the time you make it back to the threshold of the carnival, which seems to be eaten up by the darkness surrounding all of the twinkling lights, heâs not really a stranger, is he?Â
And as you get closer to the carnival, the natural darkness of the beach gives way to an abundance of artificial lights that allow you to see him better. Heâs cute--no doubting that, with dark hair that frames his face, and a bandage around his forehead. Maybe an accident, or an unfortunate birthmark.Â
Even if you werenât familiar with most of the townâs residents in one way or another, youâd know he was an outsider from the way heâs dressed. A slim motorcycle jacket and dark jeans⌠not the type of guy that hangs around here for long.
As you stop at the border of the carnival, he asks where you live, and you tell him--âaround.â He admits that heâs only in town for the carnival week.Â
âI figured,â you say lightly enough.
He raises his eyebrows. âIs it that easy to tell?â
You put your hands into your pockets and look around you.Â
âI mean, itâs a small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, after a while. A new face stands out pretty easily.â
His smile is charming. Practiced, but charming. Or maybe being practiced is how itâs so charming in the first place. âThat makes sense.â He considers you for a moment. âYou like to watch the tourists, then?â
You shrug and gesture with your chin towards a mom with a toddler clinging to her hand, pulling her along towards one of the games with enormous stuffed animals.
âI like people watching, I guess. Sometimes,â and as youâre saying it, you donât know why youâre telling him this so openly. âSometimes I like to make up stories about people I see. Like, where theyâre from or what they do or a backstory like theyâre from a movie or whatever.âÂ
Your cheeks feel suddenly, stupidly hot. Christ, you meet a handsome stranger on the beach and your first major conversation involves you admitting you make up stories about people? Youâve got to get out of this town more.
But he doesnât seem like heâs judging you. If anything, he looks interested.Â
âAnd what would you imagine for me?â
The question is unexpected.Â
âI thinkâŚâ You try to force your mind to wander like it does when you people watch organically. What would you imagine, if you came across him walking around the carnival in the evening? Heâd be on his own, surely, maybe his hands in his pockets. Quiet. A soft smile on his face, maybe?Â
âI think youâre some sort of⌠librarian. Or a curator. A collector?â You shake your head, unsure of exactly where you want to go with this one. âThe point is, youâre traveling around the country, looking for things to add to a museum or library or something like that. And you came across an ad for a summer carnival and thought youâd take in some local culture.â You gesture towards the carnival--the lights, the crowd of people, the humanity on display. âBut walking around here makes you feel lonely. So you walk down to the beach in the hopes of distracting yourself. Only,â you add, with a cheeky grin. âTo come across the most amazing small town waitress in 100 miles standing on the dock like a weirdo.âÂ
He doesnât smile at your story. Not exactly. Instead--and you look away when you notice, feeling too rude for staring--his eyes widen just a smidge and he purses his lips in a thoughtful way.Â
âMy name is Chrollo,â he says. âMay I have yours?â
Chrollo is kind of old-fashioned, you decide. Perhaps you were more spot-on than you realized with your story.Â
Maybe you shouldnât give your name. But thereâs a giddy feeling inside your chest. Something akin to what you used to feel when you were a teen and you snuck out in the middle of the night for bonfire drinking parties.
I mean⌠a handsome stranger in a motorcycle jacket who escorted you back from the beach wants your name? Youâd be stupid to say no.Â
So you give it.Â
At that, he finally smiles again.
âWell, then,â he says softly, saying your name in such a way that makes you hope heâll say it again in the future, âI hope Iâll see you tomorrow night.â
--
âHelp! Someone help me! For Godâs sake!â
Jake Jensen cried out these words as loudly as he could--as clearly as he could, with booze slurring his words and making his mouth all mumbly. But he wasnât loud enough. No one heard him. Not over the music and delighted screams of the carnival.
He had been chased away from the beach, past the dock, into a little storage shed used for kayaks rented to tourists during the summer. His worn out body protested with every movement, his lungs hacking from years of cigarettes.Â
His attackers, who blocked the door frame, said nothing. They only looked at one another, silent words passed between them, and the taller of the two grinned in the darkness.Â
Jake Jensen died screaming.
--
Friday
You tell yourself that youâre only sitting here on this bench, munching on fresh hot popcorn, because you had a hankering for carnival food. Definitely didnât come here in the hopes of seeing a certain someone. You tell yourself this even as your eyes dart here and there, looking for any sign of the not-quite-a-stranger from last night.Â
The sun has just set, and itâs a bit hard making out faces in the glow of the early evening. There are a lot more people here tonight, a new wave of tourists drowning out the familiar faces. Not that the locals shy away from the carnival--you spot your former best friend from high school, your old math teacher, one of the regulars at the diner⌠Jake Jensen isnât in his usual spot at the games, but maybe heâs sleeping off a hangover. He never misses a summer carnival.
âHello again.â
Oh--you choke on your current handful of popcorn just as Chrollo appears suddenly in your line of sight, hands in the pockets of his motorcycle jacket, a casual smile on his face.
âHey,â you say, coolly, like you didnât just nearly spit chewed popcorn kernels in his face when he approached. The silence between you doesnât last long, but you fill it anyway. âYou um, want some popcorn?â
But when you hold out the now half-filled container, Chrollo only looks at it curiously. Like heâs never seen popcorn before or something? But then he takes a small handful and pops it in his mouth. Chews--but he might as well be chewing broccoli, for all he seems to enjoy it. Oddly, he watches you while he chews, seemingly studying your face. Did you have popcorn in your teeth?
Better to fill the silence again.
âWell, what do you think?â You ask, grinning, popping another handful in your mouth. âItâs my favorite because itâs fresh, and that booth actually uses real butter. Not the fake oil stuff.â
Chrollo hums in agreement. âI see. I thought that tasted like real butter. Thank you for sharing.âÂ
You decide on the spot that youâre going to make the most of this evening, popcorn-in-teeth or no. So you shrug and give your best smile. âNo biggie. Buuut⌠you will owe me.â
He raises his eyebrows. âOh? And what will I owe you?â
Itâs your turn to hum as you look out towards the carnival, scanning past the numerous faces, the booths, children running with balloons and sticks of cotton candy. âA ride on the Ferris wheel once itâs properly dark would be nice.â
A snort, though his nose. âI think I can manage that.â
He offers his arm again, and you take it, not minding how old fashioned it was. Somehow, despite his jacket, his sleek hair, the hint of motorcycle oil mixed with cologne, old-fashioned seemed to suit him.
Lots of things seemed to suit him, actually. You learn this as the evening wears on. Heâs great at carnival games, choosing only a select few that he claims to be an expert in. He wins you a few stuffed animals that you pass on to little kids, save a smaller teddy bear that you can shoved inside your purse.Â
You learn other things, too. Like, heâs a great listener. He lets you talk--about yourself, about the town--and doesnât interrupt or tell you that you talk too much or make it clear heâs not listening to a thing you say. He even asks you questions, which shows heâs actually listening, and not just thinking about other things and waiting to ask you to go somewhere âprivateâ like some other guys.
Itâs nice, surprisingly nice, to find someone from out of town whoâs so thoughtful.
The line for the Ferris wheel is always long once the sun goes down, and youâre one of the last rides of the night.Â
When the carnival worker locks the bar down over your waists, you kick your legs and wait for the strange rush of adrenaline and pleasure that comes with the Ferris wheel. Itâs a beautiful sight--all colored lights contrasted against the night sky, whisking you high into the air and giving you a view of the entire carnival and the ocean beyond.
But your body always reacts to the imagined danger of being carried so far away from the safety of the ground, and when the Ferris wheel reaches the top and begins to circle over for the first time, your stomach lurches and you gasp.
âAre you scared?â Chrolloâs voice is low--you could swear heâs teasing, but thereâs something else in there, too.Â
âYeah,â you say, breath catching as you're brought back closer to the ground, only to be whisked away again. âOf course. What if something goes wrong, and I fall off and break my neck?â
Chrollo tilts his head. âYouâd be dead.âÂ
You canât help but grin. Heâs so to-the-point sometimes. Itâs charming in its own way, although you canât exactly describe what âits own wayâ means with Chrollo. Itâs like he stepped out of some old fashioned film but also came out of a cooler city. A biker who carries around an embroidered handkerchief, or something like that.
âAnd I donât want to die, hence--the stomach flipping.âÂ
Chrollo looks ahead, then, taking in the view as the Ferris wheel carries you over again. âNo? How long do you want to live, then?â
The snort is involuntary. A philosophical question on the Ferris wheel--not exactly what you expected from tonight. But maybe itâs not so bad. Heâs good company. And Chrollo looks earnest in his question, too, which makes you feel guilty for snorting in the first place.Â
Maybe itâs the lights of the Ferris wheel that dazzle you; maybe itâs the way being on the Ferris wheel at night makes you feel like youâre in some wonderful haze of a dream.Â
Whatever it is, you fling your hand into the air, towards the carnival, towards the stars.
âLong enough to achieve my dreams,â you breathe out, earnest, almost sing-song. âWhatever they might be. I havenât figured them out yet.â
Chrollo turns his head to look at you. His eyes almost seem magnetic against the night sky, with the lights of the carnival playing in them.Â
Then, as the Ferris wheel brings the two of you down towards the ground, you see him. The man from yesterday, with the cowl over his face. Heâs looking right at you, and itâs no mistake or figment of your imagination.
Your head swivels to the side and you grip the bar of the Ferris wheel until your knuckles hurt. You jerk one hand out and point to the stranger on the ground with a trembling finger.Â
âThere--look! Look!âÂ
Chrollo takes a moment to respond, and follows the sight line of your finger.
But now--thereâs no one there.
âWhat do you see?â He asks, clearly unknowing that the object of your terror has vanished into thin air.
âThe man⌠the man from yesterday. He was right there. I swear.â Your chest hurts; fear hurts.Â
Unbidden, Chrollo pulls you close to him, and you let him hold you tight.
âYouâre all right. Iâm here.âÂ
He holds your chin in his fingers. âYouâre safe, do you understand?â
The fear in your chest seems fuzzy now, like it had almost never been there in the first place. How silly of you to be scared, when Chrollo was right here. It doesnât even seem strange that heâs touching you so intimately, does it? So you nod--yes, yes, you understand.Â
Chrollo smiles.Â
âLet me kiss you,â he says simply.
And you will. Of course you will. What else would you want to do?Â
But as you lean forward, eyes already closing, he pulls himself away.
âWait.â You blink, head clearing, and he continues, words slow, careful. âWould you like to kiss me?â
Now, you think about it. Maybe it was too hasty. But the lights of the carnival are beautiful and Chrollo is beautiful, and heâs been so thoughtful all day, and now heâs here, holding you, promising to keep you safe from carnival creeps.
A summer carnival is the time for a flirty romance, after all.Â
âYes,â you answer, simply. âI would.â
Chrolloâs finger strokes your chin as you lean in and share your first kiss on the Ferris wheel, glittering lights and carnival music dancing in your mind.Â
--
The wife died first. Too quickly, but perhaps it was all the alcohol in her system; $1 margaritas at a local watering hole on a Friday night did nothing to make her more agile when being chased by predators while running in black city heels that had no place in a small town carnival.
Well, to the dying womanâs credit: it was the heels and alcohol and the sliced tendons in her ankle. Taut wires cut through her flesh like butter and she was down for the count, crawling, sobbing, begging for her husband, for God, for anyone to help her.
No one did.
Those pitiful cries, too, were cut down by a wire pressed into her throat; silencing her vocal chords, yes, but spilling blood over her neck that was as pretty as a sight as anything to those watching her choke and scrabble her hands against the ground, eyes wide, gaping, wondering--how is this happening to me?Â
The margaritas may have hindered her before her unfortunate ankle accident. But they did make her blood taste sweet and tangy. Metallic, rich, with a twist of lime. All that was missing was a miniature umbrella.
This joke was said aloud, once everyone had a taste of her. A few laughed, blood on their teeth.Â
Her husband didnât seem to find it funny, but perhaps he was more preoccupied with his own current slow death. An arc of his blood spurted into the air--âDonât fucking waste it, Uvoâ--before a greedy mouth latched onto the wound, beginning to suck him dry.
The husband, like the wife, would be shared.
Soon, though, there would be no need for sharing.
There would be enough for everyone to have their fill--and beyond that.
There would be enough to gorge.
--
Saturday:
Three people are dead.Â
You didnât know them know them, but the shock is still there, making your hands tremble a little as you pour morning coffees and deliver plates of steaming eggs and overcooked bacon to tables of locals and tourists in almost equal measure.
Jake Jensen is one of those people. The identities of the other two are unknown--âDue to the state of the bodies, no identification could be provided at this time,â said the sheriff, above a rolling news ticker that had been on the dinerâs singular TV all morning--but they might be a couple. A man and a woman.
People die all the time. Sure. ButâŚÂ dead bodies are not often found in your small town, where gossip typically revolves around couples breaking up or a local store not putting up enough holiday decorations to appease the older crowd.Â
Yet now, in one morning, there are three.Â
Jake Jensen, who was found near the beach.
And an unknown man and woman (John and Jane Doe) who were found in a wooded area near the carnival.
âMighta been a bear,â says one of your regulars, gnawing on a piece of his burnt bacon. He liked it that way.
âI heard they were drained of blood!â Your head--and othersâ too, you suspect--turns to the voice. Itâs not a local. Someone whoâs far too dressy for the diner, sipping on a coffee they brought from home while they sample your dinerâs less than stellar fruit salad option. Heâs oblivious to the stares, to the eye rolls, to the immediate dismissal that his outsiderness earns him. âTwo puncture wounds on the neck. Heard it from a cop while I was walking in this morning.â
Someone murmurs a joke about vampires and the locals chuckle, then go back to their coffee, their eggs, their eyes now and then glancing up at the old TV screen.
Your eyes roll, too, but then you wonder.
If they were murdered--and itâs an if, of course, because it could have been animals and Jake Jensen could have gotten so plastered that he fell off the dock or something, murders just donât happen in your town--then⌠could it have been that creepy guy from before? The one whoâs been following you around the carnival?
Shit, maybe he was waiting for the chance to get you alone, so he could drag you off to the dock or the woods and slit your throat. The thought gives you goosebumps, and acrid coffee tries to climb its way up your throat, before you swallow it down.
It was a good thing you had Chrollo around for the past two days.
And youâd be seeing him again tonight.
They werenât canceling the carnival--it brings in too much money. And while a part of you is all sore and soft for poor Jake Jensen (who was never mean, just drunk) you try to brush it away. Itâs sad. But life is sad.Â
You donât want to be sad tonight. You want to look nice--for Chrollo? He wasnât the first out-of-towner that had flirted with you, that youâd flirted with back. He was the first one that youâd ever genuinely looked forward to seeing again, though.
So.
You want to be wearing your best smile when you meet Chrollo again tonight.Â
And you canât do that if youâre thinking about Jake Jensenâs body washing up on the beach or if thereâs a small, tickling question dancing through your mind--
What sort of animal leaves two pretty little puncture wounds on the neck?
--
You sit on the same bench as before; the bench, in your mind, where you and Chrollo have taken to meeting up these past few days.Â
Thereâs no room in your stomach for popcorn tonight, though. Or rather, thereâs room--your stomach growls--but you canât imagine chewing anything rich, hot and buttery right now. Your thoughts flit between horror (poor Jake Jensen, one time, when you were younger, he helped you fix a flat bike tire) and romance (Chrolloâs lips on yours, warm, the breeze tickling your neck, the lights of the Ferris wheel twinkling around you).
You feel bad for wanting to enjoy tonight. But thatâs not fair, is it? Another small town tragedy: caring too much about someone you didnât really know as anything more than a passing familiar face that you canât even focus on a hot date.Â
Fuck.Â
âDaydreaming again?âÂ
The evening sky above you is a wash of deepening colors, devoid of actual sunlight but clinging to the last vestiges of it like a child refusing to let go of his motherâs hand on the first day of school.Â
Heâs holding up a stick of bright pink cotton candy in one hand, while the other arm is offered for you to take--the contrast between his leather jacket, the ball of fluffy sugar heâs holding, and the way he sometimes acts like an old timey gentleman out of the movies is enough to make you smile.
Perhaps thereâs bitterness in it, because as soon as youâre standing, Chrollo regards you with a measured look.
âAre you all right?âÂ
Well. You donât want to ruin your evening, but it would be stupid to pretend everything was all sweetness and sunshine, wouldnât it? Itâs better to get it out of the way.Â
âSorry, itâs⌠I donât know if you saw the news?â He says nothing, and you continue. âThose people that they found dead this morning.â Your lips press together. âI mean, the guy--I knew him, sort of? Everyone did. He was drunk all the time, yeah, but he wasnât a jerk about it.â
Chrollo hums.
âI can imagine that would be shocking for you to hear.âÂ
Your smile is shaky, and you nab a piece of cotton candy from the stick and shove it in your mouth. The sweetness contrasts awfully with the words that pass through your lips. âFor you too though, right? I mean, itâs not every day three people turn up dead at some small town carnival.â
Chrollo raises an eyebrow in a way that seems to say that he is not particularly shocked by the news.Â
âShit, really? What are you in your non-touristy life, a mortician or something?â A sudden realization washes over you, that Chrollo has an entire life outside of you and these carnival evenings; he has a past, and family, and friends, and a job. Hopes, dreams, the whole nine yards.
âSomething like that,â he says. When you move to apologize, he shakes his head. âItâs alright. Iâm not terribly shocked by these things, I suppose, because of what I see in my day to day.â He looks at you a little curiously. âBut I can see how it would rattle you.â
You open your mouth, but you donât know what to say. Sugar sticks to your teeth.
âCome on.â Chrollo drops the cotton candy into a nearby trash can, and leads you towards a row of carnival games. âI know what might take your mind off things.â
For once, youâre glad to see the carnival games; the fast-paced spitting words of the barkers trying to hustle money from kids and couples, the sound of darts popping balloons, the triumphant music that plays before the obnoxiously difficult water shooting game.Â
Youâre even glad to see the tourists in all of their Saturday glory, which isnât so much âgloryâ as it is a sort of restlessness. Saturdays were always a strange day at the carnival; the last middle day before the grand finale. An unusual mixture of sleepiness, anticipation, and a buzz that held everyone together until tomorrow.
Strange day, strange faces. Some stranger than others. Staring up at the bell at the top of the Test Your Strength game is an exceptionally tall man with wild dirty blonde hair. By the size of his muscles, he might just break the game, which hadnât been replaced in the many years youâd been coming here in the summer.
You tug on Chrolloâs arm and point the man out. âWhat do you want to bet the carnie will try to get him not to play? He might just break the thingâŚâ
âI donât doubt it.â Beside you, Chrollo snorts, but doesnât linger on the man as he leads you further into the carnival.Â
The two of you walk, and talk. About nothing and everything. He asks you to come up with stories for a few tourists, and you do. Light ones. It really does take your mind off things. At some point, Chrollo buys you fries, which taste slightly sweet; probably cooked in the same oil as the funnel cakes.Â
You dig in your heels in front of the fun house, but Chrollo shakes his head, and wonât go in.
âAre you scared?â You tease. At night, the fun house was all lit up, and the clowns painted on the front had a ridiculously sinister air to them.
But Chrollo doesnât smile or laugh. âThey make me dizzy,â he says, quietly. Thereâs something behind his words, but you donât know what. A medical problem? A bad experience? You apologize and then he does smile, shaking his head, at himself, or you, youâre not sure. âThink nothing of it, dear.â
Dear.
You want to hold onto that bit of affection like the sky holds onto the sunset on summer evenings. At least as long as you can, which tonight, seems to be until Chrollo takes you on the Ferris wheel again.Â
This time, he holds your hand as soon as the attendant locks the bar down. Your fingers interlock and squeeze and it sends butterflies rushing through your chest. What was there to worry about, to think about, when you were sitting next to him?Â
It takes a few turns around the Ferris wheel to remember what you were supposed to worry about, because on the trip down, your stomach fluttering from romance and gravity alike, you see him: the strange man. The stalker. The maybe-serial-killer-on-the-loose.Â
Heâs standing still in the crowd walking here-and-there around the Ferris wheel, couples intent on getting in line, children running from tired parents as they beg for another carnival game.
And heâs staring straight up at you.
You donât think this time. You grab Chrollo and point straight down and practically screech out the words: âThere! Heâs there! Look, look--look!âÂ
And the stars must be aligned, because Chrollo actually sees him. His grip on your other hand tightens and he pulls you closer to him as you make your way back around the Ferris wheel and the man goes out of sight. By the time the two of you are at the top again, the stranger is gone.
Your goosebumps remain.
âWe should talk to the police,â you murmur, a quiet, scratchy whisper.
Chrollo turns towards you. You recognize the look. The âDo you really think the police will do anything about this?â sort of look.Â
âIâve been thinkingâŚâ You squeeze Chrolloâs hand and he squeezes back and thatâs all you need to keep going. âThat maybe he might have something to do with those people? The ones they found this morning?â
Chrolloâs eyes widen just a little. Itâs both comforting and worrying to see him look taken aback, even if itâs only a bit.Â
âI heardâŚâ You feel stupid saying this. But you shouldnât feel stupid, not with Chrollo. He hasnât given you a reason to feel like you canât tell him things. âSomeone at the diner today said they were found with puncture wounds on them. I was thinking, maybe⌠like an ice pick? Or a screwdriver or--I donât know. But maybe they were killed.â
âPerhaps heâs a vampire,â Chrollo offers, voice low, lips curled into a smile, and your face must reflect the flash of offended shame that rushes into your chest, because he immediately apologizes. His sigh flutters against your cheek. âWell. He wouldnât be the first killer to prey on crowds or small towns, would he?â
At least he didnât say you were crazy to connect the two things, vampire joke aside.
He keeps you close once the ride is over, and you wouldnât have it any other way.Â
âIâll inform the police,â he insists, when the two of you finally stumble on a pair of deputies patrolling the carnival. He leaves you standing next to the Test Your Strength game, where the carnival barker has agreed to keep an eye on you. It made you feel like a child, but for once, maybe that wasnât a bad thing--to be watched and protected.
You watch, biting your nails now and then, as Chrollo and the deputies talk. In the end, they shake his hand, and you feel cool relief in your stomach. The police will know what to do with the information. If this guyâs a killer, theyâll catch him. If heâs not, well. The carnival was almost over, and you wouldnât have to worry about him much longer.
Things will be normal soon.
When Chrollo returns, you take his arm without hesitation, but this time he begins to lead you away from the carnival.
âI was thinking,â he says, âthat we might go for a walk. Get away for a bit. If you donât mind, that is.â
You donât mind at all.Â
âDo you like trails?â You ask, steering him towards a trail that leads from the beach to a popular hiking spot for locals. âItâd be a bit more private. As long as youâre not scared of the dark.â
Chrollo chuckles. Itâs a warm, dark, rich sound, and it sends a delightful thrill right through you.Â
âIâm not if you arenât,â is all he says, and thatâs enough for you to point out the way.
Thoughts of dead bodies and stalkers fade away with the carnival, whose sights and sounds fade bit by bit as you and Chrollo leave the beach and begin making your way into a wooded area with a paved hiking path lit on the other side by electric trail lights.Â
âIâm surprised to see these,â Chrollo says, quietly. He pulled his phone out at the start of the trail to give the two of you more light, though the trail lights were decent enough, especially since youâd been up here more times than you could count.
âMm,â you murmur. âLocals come up here all the time at night. Especially teens. Usually to make out and stuff.â Chrollo gives you a look and your cheeks hit up, but you donât elaborate. He doesnât need to know about your high school escapades. âThey added them to avoid the inevitable lost-teen-in-the-woods-at-night rescue scenario, I think.â
âClever,â he says.Â
--
The waterfall is loud when youâre this close; so loud you canât hear anything in the moment but your own thoughts, which have grown louder and louder somewhere between the hiking trail and this popular waterfall spot. So popular that itâs lit with a flood light near the top--supposedly a teenager slipped in one night and drowned in the shallow pool, though youâve never been certain if it was a true story or not.
Regardless, youâre not sure you want to stay. No--you know you donât want to stay.Â
This is a bit much, is what your thoughts are starting to scream. Chrollo is nice, but you donât really know him, do you? And you just walked somewhere alone with him in the dark after being surprised by a maybe-stalker, the day that three people were found dead around here.
Yeah. A bit much might be an understatement. You should really get back to where thereâs more lights and people and civilization in general. If Chrollo is a nice person (and he is, you insist, youâre just being smart!) he wonât mind.Â
âI think we should go back,â you say, but Chrollo canât hear you. So you cup your hands around your mouth and lean closer to his ears. âI think we should go back!â
You expect him to nod and take your arm and lead you carefully down the lantern-lit trail, perhaps still using his phone to guide the way. Instead, he takes your chin in his hands--you move to jerk it out, youâd rather wait until youâre back at the carnival to kiss again--but his grip is impossibly strong.
âItâs all right,â he says, and itâs the strangest thing, you can hear him so clearly despite the roaring waterfall just a few feet in front of you. âYou know that youâre safe with me. You donât want to go back yet.â
How strange. How silly. Why did you want to leave, when you just got here? You didnât even show him the best part yet.
âCome on!â Itâs your turn to pull him along as you carefully walk the path leading to the front of the waterfall, which has already begun to soak water through your clothes.Â
âIs there a cave?â Chrollo asks--and again, youâre struck by how easy it is to hear him, despite the water rushing down in front of you.Â
âYou sure know your way around local watering holes,â you jest.Â
He merely smiles. âI travel a lot.â
With that, you grip his arm tighter and run through the waterfall, shrieking in delight. Both of you emerge on the other side soaked; you, grinning, and Chrollo, looking around with interest.
The inside of the cave was lined with endless rows of fairy lights, courtesy of a local high school group. They had also brought in the two couches--used leather, frayed and flecking, but good enough for a hang out. When you were younger, there were only folding chairs; which were great for sitting, not so much for much less.Â
âDo you like it?â You ask, then feel stupid. Why do you care so much what he thinks of some local hang out spot, especially one you hadnât been in for ages? The same reason why youâd spent all day telling him about your daydreams, about small town memories, bits and pieces of local lore that he didnât brush aside but seemed to enjoy hearing.
Chrollo was so different from the others youâve met at the summer carnival.Â
Maybe thatâs why your heart begins to beat fast the moment you catch his eye again. His skin looks almost dewy in the glow of the lights, thanks to the water; his eyes shine, reflecting a soft, warm twinkling glow.
Itâs just the two of you. No tourists, no locals, no would-be stalkers. Even the carnival itself seems far away; the lights blocked from view by the rushing water and canopy of the forest, even the wafting smell of popcorn and stale beer was long gone out here.
It was just you and Chrollo in a cave at the end of the evening.Â
But⌠it didnât have to be the end of the evening, did it?Â
You ask him, this time.Â
âDo you want to kiss me?âÂ
âI do,â he says. âVery much so.â
This time, your kiss is tinged with the tang of river water.
--
Five bodies lay scattered in the grass. Young men, young women. Teens that had been giggling and stumbling through the forest, flasks of pilfered whiskey in their bags.Â
Now some dead and going cold, their limbs twisted, their mouths open in silent screams.
Two were still alive, whimpering, weak hands beating against monstersâ chests as open mouths hungrily lapped up their life blood. They had screamed, all of them, but no one could hear them in the woods--over the water.Â
âThis is a lovely spot,â said a woman, brushing back her blonde hair. A bit of red gore had stuck to the strands and she tsked at the sight of it. âThe waterfall adds a nice touch.âÂ
The man hummed, and stuck his hands in his pockets. The slightest touch of red showed on his lips; like a woman pressing her lipstick-covered mouth onto a bit of tissue to get rid of the excess.Â
The carnage made him indifferent; the whimpers of the dying, even more so. But as he looked around at the carefully placed lights on the trail, the way they flickered against the waterfall and its hidden cavern like delicate stars, he smiled.Â
âIt came highly recommended.âÂ
--
Sunday: The Final Day
Chrollo was in your bed last night, and you thought heâd be there in the morning. But when the sound of birds pulls you delightfully out of a restful sleep and you blink your eyes open to dappled sunlight through your blinds, you realize that the bed is half-empty.
Just you and the sheets and the leftover smell of Chrollo--cologne and, more faintly, sweat and sex.Â
You freeze, listening for the sound of someone meandering about an unfamiliar kitchen. He could be up and about already--making coffee or breakfast. The image of him serving up a plate of bacon and eggs almost makes you laugh.
But the apartment is silent, save for your breathing, the sound of a clock ticking in the living room.Â
Your heart lurches and shame pricks at the back of your eyelids. He fucked you and ran, didnât he? Just like the others, just like--
But just when youâre about to give into the temptation to scrub yourself all over with hot water and erase every trace of Chrollo that ever existed in your presence, you see it: a piece of paper, torn from a notebook you keep on your dresser. Carefully folded over and placed on the side table next to the bed.
Your name is on it, written in a surprisingly beautiful, scrawling hand.Â
Curiosity and leftover shame-tinged dread curl together in your stomach as you sit up and slowly pick up the note.Â
Dear--
Your heart lurches again, for a different reason this time.
I apologize that I did not give you a proper farewell. I had an urgent matter to attend to. Forgive me, wonât you? We will see each other tonight, I hope, for a memorable and unforgettable evening.
Of course he didnât fuck and run. He wouldnât do that. And tonight would be--well, memorable and unforgettable, just as he said.
The pitter-pattering inside your chest takes on a new delightful cadence as you get yourself ready for the day. No work--you had Sundays off, thank God, maybe literally, for that. It was a shame Chrollo didnât tell you where he was staying; presumably, the only hotel in town. But maybe he was at one of the B&Bs or was shacking up at a room for rent.
It would be nice to see him in the daytime, too.
But he didnât, so youâre left with nothing to do but flick on the TV and make yourself a cereal bowl. Well, thatâs wrong. Thatâs not the only thing you could do. You could go to your parentâs house and help out your mom; she could use a break with caring for your dad.
But⌠was it wrong to be selfish, just a little, for just one day? You didnât want to see Chrollo tonight with something unpleasant sticking inside you, on the potential chance that your dad was having a not-so-great day.
It was better to approach your last evening together with a sunnier attitude.
Although you donât really have a choice, because the first thing you see when the news returns from a commercial break is a giant banner scrolling across the screen: TWO MISSING TEENS FOUND DEAD AT LOCAL WATERFALL. POPULAR TRAIL CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
In the background, the sheriff recites familiar lines about respecting the privacy of the dead, about putting the full energy of the police force into finding the investigation, about how there is no need to panic. He says that it may not have even been foul play.
Somehow, you donât believe that. You just know.Â
Sugary cereal seems to lodge itself inside your throat. You were just there. You were just there, kissing Chrollo, holding his hand, and now two teenagers are dead and lifeless and, and--
And if it was that same man⌠the one who was staring at you, stalking you⌠how close did you and Chrollo come to dying last night?
Tears prick at your eyes and you grab your purse. Maybe you would spend the day with your parents, after all.Â
--
You should be more excited to see Chrollo. And you are, truly. But between the news this morning and the dull realization that this would be your last evening together ever, itâs hard to feel too enthused.Â
Chrollo would be going home after tonight. Tourist trap over, no need to stick around. Something childish in you thinks: maybe I can convince him to stay a little longer. And if he stays a little longer, heâll see how nice it is here (itâs not) and maybe heâll want to settle down (he wonât).Â
Oh, how stupid. Itâs like when youâd meet the endless stream of New Best Friends every summer weekend as a kid, and youâd beg their parents together to extend their vacation.
It wasnât going to happen. Youâll never see him again after tonight, and youâll go your separate ways, and thatâs that.Â
Reality sucks sometimes.
Youâre still stuck in the dreary shit cloud that is reality when Chrolloâs now somewhat familiar footsteps approach you on the bench. The bench, your spot--your spot? As if you and Chrollo had anything that could be called an actual relationship that warranted the use of âyourâ plural.Â
You shake your head, hoping it shakes those silly childish delusions, and force yourself to smile.
Chrollo, to your surprise, doesnât smile back.
Instead, he leans down, and takes your hand. His eyes roam over your fingers like theyâre something special and it makes your stomach flutter stupidly.
âYou seem a bit sad,â he says, bringing your knuckles to his lips for a kiss. The way that makes you feel is something you love and hate in almost equal measure. Itâs not fair, is it, that he makes you feel this way--when he has to leave, and youâll never see him again.
Perhaps itâs the knowledge that you will part ways after tonight that makes you speak freely.
âIâm just sad that youâll be leaving.â He blinks at you, and turns his head a little. âThat we wonât see each other after tonight,â you clarify.Â
You expect him to nod and agree, and perhaps say something trite but comforting, like, âWeâll just make the most of it.âÂ
Instead, he gives your hand a squeeze.
âWe donât have to part, you know.â
Itâs your turn to blink. A silly, little-kid-in-you hope does a twirl. He could stay--and this could maybe, possibly, in some far off millimeter of a chance, turn into something more serious than a summer fling. âYou could extend your vacation? Your job would do that?â
Chrollo finally smiles at you.Â
âMy life is flexible. But,â and now he pulls you up so that youâre standing. Itâs a fluid, easy gesture for him, almost too easy--heâs stronger than he looks. âI was thinking that instead of staying here, you would come with me.â
The world around you is not silent. The carnival is always producing an eternal cacophony of sounds--screaming patrons hung upside down on the more thrilling of rides, cheery carousel music, laughter, popcorn endlessly beating like a fast paced drum, everything and anything all mixed together into a swirl of sound.
But it might as well be silent, because you feel like all you can hear is your heartbeat in your eyes for a few stretched moments.Â
âWhat? Youâre not serious.â You smile, too, but it feels fake. Like itâs plastered on and cracking underneath. Thereâs a brief thought--maybe he means, like, for a weekend?--but you instantly know thatâs not what heâs talking about.
This is too much, too fast. Too out of the blue.Â
Chrollo looks at you in a way that almost makes you uncomfortable. Like he wants to see something inside you that youâre keeping for yourself. Then that gaze is gone and heâs smiling softly, charming, a little bittersweet.
Bittersweet is familiar territory, and the ringing in your ears fades in favor of a carnival barker offering 2-for-1 prizes on the Test-Your-Strength game.Â
Chrolloâs voice cuts through it all, jovial, unassuming.Â
âWe can talk about it later, if youâd like. Letâs go enjoy the carnival a bit more before the concert.âÂ
That would be nice.
âIâd like that.âÂ
And you mean it--you do. You shake your head and let Chrollo intertwine his fingers in yours, and it doesnât take long for his question to fade away from your mind as you weave in and out of the crowds.
If you werenât so distracted, so disarmed, you might have noticed an uncomfortably familiar figure clad in black watching the pair of you intently.
--
The Ferris Wheel worker should have kicked you off several spins ago, but Chrollo had slipped him a twenty as he buckled the safety bar down. Itâs nice, this extra time with him--itâll be the last time you ride the Ferris wheel together, after all.Â
What did it say about the state of your love life--or your life in general, actually--that slipping a carnie 20 bucks made your heart soar (and twist, and ache) even a little bit?
The night is prettier from the Ferris wheel. The world, too. Up here, you canât see the grit and grime. The fermenting candy apples littering the ground, dropped two days ago by careless kids; the too-drunk couples arguing about whether they should stay for the concert or not; the exhausted carnival workers smiling hard no matter how much they get yelled at for their rigged games.
All you can take in from up here is the broad vantage point. Crowds and happy sounds--squeals and music interplaying above crowds of people, including a growing crowd on the beach in front of the black stage, waiting for the concert to start.
Chrolloâs grip on your hand tightens and draws your attention back to him. Even he looks more beautiful from up here, with the rainbow lights of the Ferris wheel playing on his face.Â
âIâve enjoyed our time together,â he says softly.
Ah, you realize. The extra spins were for the inevitable âweâll never see each other again but it was a blastâ speech. You knew it was coming. Doesnât make it any less bitter in your mouth. But what good is holding bitterness against your tongue?
âMe too,â you say, and itâs not a lie, even if you hate the way the conversation must end. You try to focus less on the sourness and more on the sweet that came before. After all, Chrollo was⌠well. Handsome, yes, magnetic, yes. But more than that. He seemed thoughtful. He listened to you prattle on about yourself and your small town, and he didnât even make fun of you for knowing so many local stories.
He was good in bed, too, wasnât he? You blink and realize you donât actually remember all that much about last night, except that he wasnât there in the morning. Vague snatches rush through your memory. You remember his mouth on your lips, his hand trailing against your skin, removing your clothes. You remember his mouth against your neck, then this teeth, nipping, and--
Itâs all fuzzy. But you werenât drunk. So why--
âHave you thought about what I said?â He asks, and once again youâre pulled away from your thoughts, although this time youâd like to focus on them. Why couldnât you fully remember last night?
When you donât answer, he raises his eyebrows.
âAbout coming with me,â he says, a bit louder, as if you canât hear him over the carnival din.
You let out a soft puff of a breath, then, and force yourself to focus on the current conversation. For now.
âYouâre serious?â You donât mean to sound so flippant, but you do. Chrollo frowns, just a little, and you feel like a bitch for it. âSorry. I just--I didnât know if you really meant it.â
âI am,â is all he says.
You didnât like the idea of the conversation headed towards Chrollo leaving, but you like the idea of him genuinely asking you to come with him even less. Partly because you know you never could, and partly because thereâs some small, stupid, fantasy-of-your-hair-blowing-in-the-wind-wearing-a-leather-jacket-on-a-motorcycle part of you that wants to say yes.
âChrollo, I canât do that. I have a job here. A life.â
Chrollo doesnât let go of your hand, but you can sense the way his muscles tense.Â
âA job at a local diner slinging hash browns,â he says, voice dry and almost hurtful. You must look offended--are you? You canât tell--because he turns a little in the seat, trapping you with his gaze. His voice is earnest now, drawing you in.
âDonât you want more out of life? The ability to pursue your dreams--to figure out your dreams?â One hand goes to your cheek, and his knuckle brushes against your skin. âYou could travel. See so much more than your little town. Imagine it.âÂ
An image starts to build in your mind. Unbidden by you, but there, somehow, nonetheless. Of you riding behind him on a motorcycle, holding onto his waist as he takes you wherever you want to go--wherever he wants to go, together. Life would be wild and unpredictable, but easy and fun and--
âMy family,â you murmur, and Chrollo seems surprised that youâve spoken.Â
His lips press thinner. âYou could write to them, call them. No matter at all.â
Whatever fantasy has built in your head gets swept away and the Ferris wheel finally comes to a stop. The seat rocks back and forth and the bored (but $20 richer) carnie lets you off. Chrollo helps you as heâs done every time.
You wait until heâs escorted you away from the Ferris wheel to turn and address him.Â
âChrollo, I canât--â You try to find the right words, but there are no right words. âI donât know you. Not⌠really. Not enough to give up my life here.â
Chrollo is quiet. He considers you, turning his head a little. You feel awful--maybe you should just end the night here, on this shitty, sour note, because youâve probably ruined the rest of the evening anyway. You wish he hadnât asked again before the night was over, but thereâs no way to fix it now.
Youâre ready to leave, to bite your cheek so tears donât come. Youâre prepared for Chrollo to say something low and insulting, to dismiss you, because why should he waste another minute on someone who would rather stay here in this shitpot of a town than--
âCome along,â is what he says, finally, holding out his hand--to your utter confusion. He still wants to go to the concert? With you? Now?
But you take his hand anyway.Â
âIt would be wasteful to end our evening early and miss the concert.âÂ
His grip is harder than it has been, but maybe youâre imagining it as he pulls you along, weaving in and out as the crowds grow larger and a little more drunk the closer the pair of you get to the beach.
This doesnât feel right, suddenly. Heâs upset, thatâs why heâs holding you so tightly. Or maybe youâre upset and imagining it. Either way, it doesnât feel good. Your primal gut instincts are telling you that itâs better to cut your losses and leave now, then to spend the night with a flipping stomach.Â
âMaybe I should just go home,â you yell over the crowd.Â
Chrollo stops, and you stumble forward a little, but he catches you in both arms before you make an ungraceful acquaintance with the ground. The hand not gripping your own gently grasps your chin and he leans in, not quite kissing you. His breath smells off, like rust.Â
âAnd miss the grand finale?â
You should insist on going home. Everythingâs gone shitty. Itâs too crowded and the music will be too loud, and Chrollo is clearly irritated with you--
âCome to the concert,â he whispers, and none of that seems to matter anymore. Of course, youâll go to the concert. What else would you do?Â
He keeps his grip on your hand as you walk onto the warm, crowded sands of the beach, even though you have no intention of leaving.Â
--
Booze, sweat, and popcorn. Thatâs all you can really smell now, surrounded as you are by crowds of people jumping and swaying to some rock band youâve never heard of before; but no one really cares what the music sounds like on a night like this, when alcohol has been flowing and summer is at its peak.
Even Chrollo seems to be enjoying himself, although heâs not dancing. Just holding you, his arm around your waist, pressing his lips now and then to your forehead.
You feel bad. That must be why thereâs a pit in your stomach. You were being rude to him. Of course heâd ask you to come with him--if heâs the type to live so freely, he wouldnât think twice about making the offer. He just doesnât understand what it means to be rooted down, willingly or not, the way you are.
You canât hold something like that against him, so you donât.Â
Instead, you sway to the music, hips bumping against Chrollo now and then. Maybe after this, he could come back to your apartment again, for one lastâŚ
All thoughts in your head are stomped into the stand when you spot the strange man with the cowl in the crowd. Heâs standing stock still while everyone around him jumps and dances and flaps their drunken arms.Â
And heâs looking right at you.
âChrollo--â Thereâs no time to waste, and you grab his arm and jerk him towards the direction of the stranger.
But heâs gone. Heâs just fucking gone. Cold terror seizes your chest.
âWhat is it, love?âÂ
The nickname doesnât even register.
âThat--the man--the guy from before--he was there.â Your voice begins to tremble, frightened tears welling in your eyes. âCan we leave? Please?âÂ
Chrollo pulls you closer to him and you feel dim comfort as he wraps his arms around you and presses his lips against your head. But he doesnât tell you that of course, weâll leave, of course, Iâll get you somewhere safe, of course, letâs talk to the police.Â
âHush.â One hand begins to pet your hair. âNot much longer now. Itâll be over soon.âÂ
âWhat do youâŚâ
Behind Chrollo, you see another familiar face. Vaguely familiar. The tall man with wild blonde hair, the one who looked like he could snap the Test Your Strength Game in half if he really wanted to--heâs standing still, like the man from before, while everyone jostles happily around him. Heâs not looking at you, but that doesnât make it any less unnerving.Â
Your eyes dart over the crowd.
There are others, standing still. Others who seem out of place immediately, either because of their appearance or something awful you canât describe. A woman with pink hair looking impassively as she scans the crowded beach, keeping her body perfectly still. A man with long black hair and something shiny and thin strapped to his shoulder. A woman with blonde hair in a smart black tailored suit that no one in their right mind would wear to a summer night carnival concert. Others, too, all out of place and making you want to be anywhere but here.
And then in a few blinks, theyâre all gone. Like they were never there.
Dizziness overtakes you, along with a strange sort of fuzzy fear. Is this what a heart attack feels like, maybe? No, itâs just panic. Understandable but undeniably awful panic.Â
âChrollo,â you manage, voice shaky. âSomethingâs wrong. Thereâs people, they seem--itâs---I donât know how to explain, we should--I think we ought to--â
Chrollo doesnât say anything. Instead, he turns you around, keeping you in his arms as he makes you face the stage.
âYouâll miss the concert,â he whispers in your ear.
Helpless irritation courses through you. Who cares about the concert right now? You have half a mind to ask him why heâs not listening to you, but that impulse is gone the moment you see the tall man with blonde hair and impossibly large muscles leap onto the stage.
The guitars and drums come to a confusing, stuttered halt. The lead singer, clad in an oversized black t-shirt with a skull on it, looks like he wants to throw his guitar at the intruder.
âDude, what the fuck, weâre playing up here, you canât just--â
Even from your vantage point, you can see the large grin the blonde man sports on his face as he raises his fist and knocks the lead singerâs head off with a single punch.Â
The body remains standing for a moment before collapsing without grace onto the stage. Blood spurts from the wound, spritzing high enough that it sprinkles the faces of those closest to the stage.Â
Thereâs a noise from the crowd that almost, for a moment, sounds like a burst of startled laughter.
And then the blonde man leaps onto the corpse, opens his mouth until itâs gaping far too wide to be human, and begins to suck on the headless neck like a crawfish.
Itâs that moment when people finally begin to scream.
Your head jerks towards one of the screams, and sheâs there--the woman with the pink hair. Latched onto someoneâs neck while blood dribbles from her mouth and the person, eyes bugged out, cries out in wordless pain. His body is cross-crossed with strange cuts, like someone pressed him through a sieve.Â
You spin around, looking away from horror, only to see it again: the man with the long hair swings something out--a sword?--and strikes someoneâs arm clean off his body, then pins that person down and begins to suck at the spurting blood.Â
Thatâs not all he hit. The person in front of them, a woman holding two drinks, staggers to the ground. Half her face slides off, revealing bone and brain. Lukewarm beer and gore meet the ground together.
Youâre not entirely sure if you said Chrolloâs name, or when he let you go, or what you should do. All you know is that when you finally pull yourself together enough to look at him, heâs simply watching the events around you like a boring television show.
Like people arenât screaming and running and bumping into you. Like blood isnât flying. Like you arenât seeing things that youâve only seen in shitty horror movies.Â
Heâs in shock. Fuck. So are you, maybe? But it will be up to you to get the pair of you to safety, so you grab his arm and shake him hard.
âChrollo! We have to go! Now!âÂ
He doesnât move. You shake him again, and he finally looks at you.Â
He smiles, and holds out his hand, ignoring your jostling.
âYouâve had time to think about it, havenât you? Will you stay with me?âÂ
Oh, heâs definitely in shock. That doesnât stop the impulsive words that flee your mouth as quickly as the people around you are trying--some not successfully--to flee the beach.Â
âYouâve lost your fucking mind. Letâs go!âÂ
You donât register whatâs happened until youâve hit the ground. Someone finally ran smack into you, and something--their elbow, maybe--strikes your head, hard. Pain blossoms in your knees and the side of your head when you hit the ground, then explodes when someone steps right on your hand.
Thereâs a feeling of lost gravity when someone yanks you up--Chrollo--but when youâre on your own two feet, heâs not there anymore.
You call his name. Once. Twice. Three times, four. He might not be able to even hear you over the din, if heâs nearby. Maybe he got swept away by the panicked people. Maybe his shock wore off and he ran to get help. Or ran--and left you.
There are a few moments where you almost run deeper into the crowd to look for him. A stupid thought. But then the wild, shock of fear inside you turns to complete ice and youâre not sure of anything in the world because heâs there.Â
Standing in front of you.
Close enough to touch.Â
Your stalker. The man with the cowl. Only the cowl is down, now, and his mouth is covered in a smear of blood. He smiles at you, and itâs not a nice smile at all. His smile grows wider, and you have to blink several times to realize what youâre seeing.
Heâs got fangs.
Two of them, red tinged. Sharp enough to puncture your neck.Â
Theyâre vampires. Actual vampires. Actual, damn bloodsucking vampires.Â
Thereâs a brief, panicked thought--whereâs Chrollo?--before your flight kicks in, and youâre scrambling through the crowd like everyone else. You stumble, of course you do. Over bodies, some dead, and you almost fall flat on your face when you make it off the beach and your ankle rolls on the uneven grass-covered ground.
If you were thinking logically, you might have run to the car park, and hopped into your car. You might have run in the direction of the crowds thinking the same, and gotten lost in them.
But there was no logic. Only pure primal panic, the realization that you people were being murdered all around you like animals, and you were one of those animals because one of the monsters was chasing you.
You didnât dare to look back to see how far away he was; you just knew, deep down, that he was following you now. Running wouldnât work: you couldnât run forever, not with the pain in your ankle, and heâd catch up with you even if you werenât panicked and in pain.
You had to hide. But where? The carnival was all lit up at night, and the beautiful lights that had been fun to see just a day before now made you want to scream. He could see you, just about clear as day, no matter where you ran.
Unless you can find somewhere to hide inside.
Itâs this thought that pushes you to dash inside the fun house, sneakers pounding on the silver ramp leading into the entrance painted over like a mouth devouring any children who enter.
The stillness inside startles you more than anything else. The lights are on. The music is playing, quiet, delightful. Itâs hard to hear it over the dulled screams coming from outside, and from the awful, pounding rush inside your ears.
You follow the short hallway until it leads to something which youâd forgotten about; but it wasnât your fault. Panic made you stupid, and you hadnât actually been inside a fun house in years.Â
The glass maze. All-see through panels that youâd smash into on an ordinary day, much less this one, where your mind is fried from panic and adrenaline keeps your body from coordinating properly. You smash against the panels a few times before you see it⌠something, behind you.Â
No. Not something. Someone behind you. Or near you. Or far away.Â
You canât tell exactly where this person is, because of the fucking glass maze, but the fact remains:
Heâs there--heâs here--heâs going to get you and kill you and it will hurt so bad.
You scream, at some point, and itâs dumb because the sound simply bounces off your current glass predicament and hurts your ears.
Maybe panic pushes you through, or maybe youâre just good at completing mazes when youâre in fear for your life; whatever the reason, you make it out. You stumble through a hallway made of rollers that nearly send you sprawling, until youâre at the end of the hallway.Â
A small red spiral staircase, barely usable for adults, is your only hope.Â
You donât try to be quiet now and the metal stairs clang under your feet as you run up them, feeling dizzy, feeling like this might be the last thing you ever do in your short, stupid life.
The second floor isnât entirely enclosed. It opens out onto the carnival in the front, and thereâs a slide to take you down near the end. The wall behind you is covered in a series of mirrors--the kind that make you tall or short or wide or impossibly thin.
Itâs not the mirrors that catch your eye, though. Itâs whatâs down below.Â
Theyâre all down there. The monsters from the beach. All covered in various amounts of blood and gore. Splatters. Smears. Like theyâve all gotten into different scrapes--killed people different ways.Â
All of them have blood around their mouths.Â
Fear rings in your ears. You want to wake up, more than anything. This is a nightmare and you want to wake up.Â
You donât wake up.
Instead, you hear a metal clang.
Then another.
And another.
Someone is coming up the stairs.
Thoughts dart here and there, but thereâs nowhere for them to go. If you go down the slide, well. Thereâs a gang of monsters waiting to kill you down below. If you stay up here, well. Thereâs still a monster waiting to kill you.
The metal clangs again, and again, and again.
Heâs coming up the stairs and heâs going to kill you. Youâre going to die. Today. Now.Â
Warm urine runs down your leg and thoughts come, too quick to really process: Mom-dad-school-work-never-did-anything-my-childhood-dog-that-one-time-we-went-to-Canada-to-visit-my-aunt-I-kissed-a-boy-under-the-bleachers-I-forgot-to-tell-dad-I-loved-him-yesterday-I-I-I--
Itâs not the monster with the cowl who comes walking up the landing of the stairs.Â
Itâs Chrollo.
Itâs like you blink and youâre in his arms, clinging to his shirt and sobbing like a child. He presses a kiss to your hair and you realize, gratefully, that he doesnât look hurt. No blood on him, no scrapes, no bruises.Â
âThank God youâre here. Thank God youâre okay,â you say, reflexively. âThank God, thank God, thank God.â
Chrollo pulls you tighter against his chest, and murmurs, âGod? An interesting choice, my dear, consideringâŚâ
You arenât even really listening. Youâre just happy. Delirious, even. Chrolloâs here. Heâll help you. You can make it out together. Somehow.Â
Thereâs an almost giddy sort of hope in your chest--until you hear the metal stairs clang again. And again. And again.
You whimper stupidly and pull on Chrolloâs arm.Â
âWe have to get out of here. Somehow. I donât--maybe we can distract them?â Your eyes glance down at the monsters below you, who only seem to be watching more intently. The man with the blonde hair, which is now caked in blood, has an awful grin on his face. You imagine you can see his fangs, even if heâs too far away for you to properly make them out.
Chrollo doesnât move. Shock again? Or he sees them, too, and knows the two of you wonât make it a step off the slide before being attacked.
The footsteps on the stairs stop. You look behind you, and your bowels clench at the sight of the monster with the cowl, pulled down, that same small, mean smile on his face.
Your hand tightens on Chrolloâs arm. A sentimental, if selfish, thought: At least I wonât die alone.
Chrollo turns, too, and looks at the man whoâs been haunting you for days. Looks at the monster who has already killed people and feasted on their blood; at the creature who will now undoubtedly kill the both of you. Lovers for only a few days, but forever in death.
Chrollo sighs, and inclines his head towards the man.Â
âWait a moment, will you, Feitan?â
There were many things you might have said in this moment. Eloquent things. Meaningful things. Things borne from inner betrayal and horror and anger. But all that comes out of your mouth, which gapes ridiculously, is:Â
âHuh?â
And then something clicks, and realization dawns like a morning you donât think youâll live to see. The idea comes naturally, somehow. Borne of a childhood reading books and watching movies about vampires. Bloodsuckers.Â
Your head turns, and you look over towards the wall of mirrors. Youâre stretched thin like taffy about to break, your features a jumble in the dirty, cheap material.Â
In the mirror in front of Chrollo, which should make him ridiculously short, there is nothing at all.Â
When you look back at him, your eyes wide and pupils blown, heâs no longer the person you met a few days ago; the person you took to your bed, the person you were lamenting leaving. The person who kissed you and made you feel good, inside and out, if only for a while.Â
Heâs a vampire.Â
âI advise you not to run,â he says quietly, if not, perhaps, a bit sympathetically.Â
You do, because you arenât a fucking moron. Though you donât make it far, as it doesnât do you any good to run towards the staircase. You run right towards the other monster--Feitan--who grabs you with ease.
Heâs faster and stronger than he looks. Maybe they all are. Your body and brain donât care about that, though, so you struggle with all of your might.
In response, your arm is deftly twisted behind your back and you expect this monster to stop, you expect your arm to meet its natural resistance while you struggle.
He doesnât. It doesnât. Your arm snaps and the pain is so sharp, so sudden, that your vision goes blind for a few seconds. In those few seconds, you scream.
When youâre aware of the world again, thereâs still the pain. Sharp and awful and renewed every time you jostle your body in any direction.
Chrollo, walking up to you, hums in sympathy.Â
âI know it hurts, dear. But this is what happens when you donât listen to my orders. Do you understand?âÂ
The strangest thing (and in a world where the man you fucked last night is currently standing in front of you with fangs, that is saying something) is that Chrolloâs expression is not wild or monstrous at all. If you thought about it, and youâre having a hard time thinking with the pain of your arm and fear of impending death, you might say he looks hopeful. That you will understand. That you have learned something.
And you have. Youâve learned that heâs a liar, that everything he ever said and did was just to keep you around long enough to literally eat you, that he has no morals, no empathy, that heâs not even a person.
âI understand,â you manage, voice tinged and weak with pain, âthat youâre a fucking monster.â You spit at him. Or try to. Your mouth is too dry to manage more than a stringy dribble that sticks to your chin.Â
At this, Chrollo sighs. He shoves his hands in his pockets and frowns.
âYou didnât speak so crudely to me earlier this week.â A little smile. âLast night notwithstanding.âÂ
Bitter tears well up in your eyes. It was all just a game to him. Cat and mouse. Every smile, every thoughtful word. Every kiss. Your bodies pressed together, his mouth on yours--
âI didnât know you were a⌠a⌠fucking vampire earlier this week.âÂ
Chuckles, from down below. Feitan, behind you, snorts.Â
Chrollo doesnât look angry, but you can feel a flash of it ripple through the air. It quiets the chuckles. Feitan tightens his grip on you, and the flash of pain makes you groan and slump forward.
âRegardless,â Chrollo says, ârespect must be maintained. I expect you to refrain from these little outbursts. Do you understand?â Thereâs still a tinge of cooing sympathy in his voice--it makes anger bubble up in your chest.Â
âFuck you.â This time, the spit flies, and hits his cheek.
The gestures are slow. Unassuming. He wipes the spit off with the back of his hand. He wipes the back of his hand on his pants. And then he nods at Feitan.
Feitanâs hand reaches around your throat and when you glance down, you see that his nails grow. And sharpen. Sharp enough to cut, sharp enough to--
He drags his hand down your collarbone, and you feel the awful, deep sting of it before you see the blood spill out from your flesh. It coats the bare skin between your collar and the top of your shirt like some sort of morbid camisole.Â
You cry out, you shriek, but he doesnât let you go until Chrollo gives him another nod. Youâre shoved towards Chrollo, who doesnât grip you, but merely lets you stand, swaying, in front of you.
When you finally get the courage to look up at him, his pupils are blown up like a sharkâs.Â
âIâd like you to stay put this time,â he tells you, voice deeper, richer, at the sight of your blood. âAnd not run away from me. Iâd like you to listen, and refrain from being⌠impulsive.âÂ
He leans in, and the scent of rust hits you, but this time you know what it means. âI could make you do it, you know. I donât have to ask.â
Realization hits you again, and it hurts even more this time. That night, on the dock. And on the Ferris wheel. And how many other times heâd told you to do something, feel something. What was really you, and what was him?Â
And now, despite all this, despite the scent of blood in the air and the wails of horror coming from the beach, he wanted you to listen to him? The audacity of vampires--it might have been funny, if you were in the mood to laugh.
âLike hell,â you mutter.
Chrollo breathes out through his nose. Impatient.
âI donât believe I heard you, dear.â
You look up at him, gaze sharper. Heart sharper.Â
âLike. Hell.âÂ
The slap you give him is weak. Youâre surprised your good arm even managed it, all things considered.Â
But the shock of the act that ripples from Chrollo to Feitan and even down below is what gives you a few microseconds to escape, to run, ears ringing from the pain of your jostled broken arm, and throw yourself down the slide.
You donât have a plan. How could you? As soon as you get to the bottom, youâll just run. Run and maybe die but maybe youâll get away, someway, somehow.
You donât get more than a few steps before you fall. Not fall, exactly. Trip. You trip over something that shouldnât be there, something taught and thin. A wire?Â
You see, from the corner of your vision, the woman with pink hair yank her hand backwards and the wire that shouldnât be there slices deeply into both your ankles. Blood seeps through your socks before you even hit the ground.Â
Your ankles burn and bleed, and new sparks explode behind your eyes when your broken arm smacks the ground at the worst possible ankle. You think you scream, but itâs hard to tell, over the pain.
Chrollo and Feitan jump down from the second story of the fun house. It should break their ankles--it does not.Â
Someone turns you over on your back with their boot and youâre left staring up at the sky, ink black and throbbing with stars. It was such a pretty night, before all this.Â
Above you, Chrollo and Feitan look down with decidedly different expressions. Chrollo regards you coolly, with no real expression on his face; itâs like a porcelain mask, indifferent, never-changing. Feitan, on the other hand, is smiling--heâs looking not at you, exactly, but at your blood.
Itâs Chrollo who speaks.
âI would like an apology for your behavior.â
If your eyes were not safely attached to their retinas, they might bug out of your face entirely. You are laying on your back with bleeding, mangled ankles; your arm is broken, flopping, useless; a collar of blood adorns your neck. Vampires are standing above you, fangs at the ready, having already spread carnage through an entire beach of concert-goers.
And he wants an apology?
You want him to go away. To not be real.
You want your mom, and your dad, and your childhood bed with covers big enough to hide you.
So you shake your head, helpless, like an infant lying on their back.
Above you, Chrollo says your name. Sternly. Just once.Â
When you muster up the words, you taste copper. You must have bitten your tongue after tripping.Â
âFâŚfuck you.âÂ
Stupid words, you know. But youâd rather your last words be this than pointless begging. Now that would be stupid, begging for your life in front of grotesque creatures who want nothing more than to devour your blood.Â
Somewhere above you, a gruff voice says, with a hint of glee in his voice:
âWant me to do it, boss?â
Your eyes dart around, but you canât see anyone else. Even Feitan seems to have stepped back, leaving you with no one but Chrollo in your line of sight.
Chrollo tilts his head a little, considering.
âNo,â he says, finally. âFeitan will handle it. I appreciate your methods, but you might break something a little beyond repair.â
Whoever spoke chuckles, but doesnât disagree.
The words reach you, but you donât take them in for a slow moment.Â
Break⌠break⌠what else can they break, what else can they possibly do--
Thereâs a weight above you. A dark one that smells of blood and metal. Itâs Feitan. He blocks out everything else, just for a moment, staring into your eyes with their big pupils and blurring tears.
When he pulls back, you see him move, but donât know what it means until you feel an explosion of red hot pain in your hand--the hand you slapped Chrollo with. Your fingers crunch and break and you try to pull your hand away, but Feitanâs boot keeps it pinned down, grinding his heel until you shriek so loud that you think the inside of your throat will blister.
Time itself is hot and painful. Youâre not sure how long it goes. Youâre only sure that when you try to move your mangled fingers, they donât move. Hot, thick pain shoots down them and it makes you stop trying to get up.Â
Itâs not like you could run, anyway.
At some point, you hear a new sound. Sirens in the distance. Police? Ambulances? Thereâs no hope in your chest, no thought that theyâll save you. Even if they got here in time, the monsters would kill them.Â
Somewhere above you, Chrollo talks, though his words sound like theyâre being spoken through water.Â
âTake care of them, will you? Weâll meet up near the waterfall before we head out.â A question from someone. A pause. âYes, Iâll handle her.âÂ
The voices fade away. Either because theyâve walked away, or youâre finally going to die from the shock. That might be a mercy compared to whatever grisly end Chrollo has in store for you. Is this how he planned for you to die, after all? Or was it meant to be swifter? You might have screwed it all up with your running and spitting.
Before Feitan broke your hand, you might have been proud of the spitting. Now you just wish youâd let them kill you quick.Â
Finally, Chrollo returns to your line of vision. Heâs a bit blurry from your tears, from your pain. Probably a bit from your blood loss, too.
He kneels down next to you, and you tense. Even tensing hurts, and you whimper.Â
âAre you going to kill me now?â
Beside you, Chrollo coos. A soft, sticky sound. He takes your broken hand and your voice wants to shriek, but all you can manage is a strangled cry. He kisses your broken fingers like a gentleman.
âKill you? Of course not.â He presses a last kiss to your mangled hand. âI do want to see that sweet girl from before.. the one who daydreams about strangers and holds onto my hand so tightly on the Ferris wheel.â An indulgent look crosses his face and he gives your broken fingers a painful squeeze that has you groaning.
âSheâs still in there, no doubt.â His thumb brushes against your cheek, pushing away the dried salt of your tears. âBuried under fear and pain and newfound knowledge, no doubt.â He smiles nostalgically. âBut those can be remedied with time.â
Heâs crazy. I mean, you know heâs a vampire, sure. But heâs also fucking crazy.
âI want to go home,â you croak. Even though you canât reason with crazy. âPlease. Please.â
His eyes blink down at you. How old is he, anyway? Centuries? Longer? To him, you must be nothing. Insignificant. Ridiculous.Â
He doesnât mock you, though. He only continues stroking your cheek with his thumb. âIâll be your home now, wherever we go. And we will go so many places.â Thereâs some sort of dulled excitement in his expression that turns your stomach. âAnd from now on, youâll do what I say, wonât you?â
Tears spill over your eyes, trickling down over his thumb. You donât have the energy or the lack of survival instinct to say no. But you wonât say yes, either. You canât.Â
âWell. I can make you obedient, if youâd rather be stubborn.â
Youâre about to ask--âWhat?â--when he kisses you, shutting you up entirely.Â
Youâre afraid to move. Your lips tremble against his, thinking only of death--of his fangs. His lips move and brush against your neck, and a mocking forgotten memory of last night flashes through you. He kissed your neck last night, too, a wet, sucking kiss that had your toes curling. Your toes curl now, too, out of fear. The blood from your ankle makes your toes slick inside your shoes.Â
And then his fangs sink into your neck and hot, searing pain shoots through your entire body, masking everything else. Your ankles. Your broken hand. Your brutalized arm. The cut on your collar. None of them matter compared to this pain, which is not localized at the sight of the bite but spreads throughout your bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything but how much it hurts.
Youâre dimly aware of your screaming. A helpless sound you heard from countless others tonight. Your legs kick, and you realize, vaguely, that you canât really feel them anymore. They hurt, yes, but thereâs a numbness behind it. Are you really moving them at all?
There are more screams now--from the beach. You donât know how you know, but you do. Itâs like you can see it in your mind although youâre flat on your back in front of the fun house with a monster draining you of blood.Â
The world spins as you imagine how the first responders must be dying right now, while youâre dying. Are they wishing they never responded to the emergency calls? Are they thinking about their families, their friends, and their little dogs, too?Â
Chrolloâs mouth is against yours again, and you taste yourself on him. Bitter metal, still warm. Heâs blurry as he pulls back and bites against his wrist. What should be vivid red blood is dark and ugly--dead. He hovers his wrist above your mouth and the substance drips onto your lips. Itâs cold, vile.
A final insult before you die, making you drink this nasty stuff. Vampires have a sick sense of humor.
But what did you know about vampires, anyway?Â
You black out as Chrollo murmurs something above you.
At least, you think, this is finally over.Â
--
You do not wake up in heaven or in darkness, either.
You wake up in a man made clearing, sitting against a tree, with a blanket draped over you. In front of you there is a fire, not roaring but alive enough in the night; a pot with spilled chili lay on the ground. Behind the fire is a camper van with its door wide open.Â
The corpse of a man is propped against the door of the van, keeping it open. His mouth is slack and ah, heâs not dead yet, is he? There are two glaring puncture wounds on his neck, but heâs still around. His fingers twitch and seem to register you with tired eyes, that drift from your face over to the far end of the camp.
You follow the look, and oh. There are two dead teens piled next to the fire. Already drained, already dead. His children, you think.Â
The world seems to come into more focus then.
You are, as far as you can tell, alive. Youâre propped up against a tree. Itâs night time. The people--the monsters, the vampires--are here, in this campsite. Some of them glance at you once they realize youâre awake, but no one says anything.
Strangely enough, youâre not in much pain. Soreness, yes. But you should be in agony. Your hand feels okay--sore fingers, but no longer blinding pain, and you can bend them almost normally. Your arm, too, feels sore but mended. Your hands reach up to your collar, your neck, but thereâs no trace of the wounds except a thin scar on your collar and two small bumps on your neck.
How did it heal so fast? Did they bring you here to hurt you again? Keep you like some sort of blood bag?
Your eyes travel down to the blanket draped around you. Itâs heavy, comfortable, and stained with blood.Â
You jerk like youâve been electrocuted and throw the soiled blanket from your body.
Someone nearby laughs. âPicky princess, huh?â You vaguely recognize the voice--the tall man with wild hair. The one who knocked a manâs head off at the beach.
Just as renewed panic begins to awaken inside you, Chrollo appears from seemingly nowhere.
âYouâre finally awake, I see.â
You shrink against the tree, and look around. Could you run into the woods? Were you still in the trail by the beach? How far could you run?Â
Chrollo smiles, and sits down next to you like this isnât horrifying or unusual at all. âDonât be ridiculous, dear. Thereâs nowhere to go.â
Your throat is dry and your words stick to your mouth several times before you can speak.
âWhere⌠are we?â
If youâre close enough to home, you might still get out of this. Somehow. Find a gas station or a rest stop and beg for help.Â
âFar away from that little town, I assure you.â Chrollo jerks his head back and you finally see the row of motorcycles parked near the campsite. âWe wonât stay here for long. We rarely do. Just long enough for you to get healed up, this time.â
Which means he plans to take you with him--with them. For how long? And where? And why? Why take you? Why not kill you, why not drain you dry in front of the fun house and leave your corpse for survivors to find?Â
You could ask all of these things, but youâre not sure you want the answer. Instead, you give the only answer your mind can manage, which is to curl up against yourself and cry.Â
âI want to go home.â You whisper, out of practicality more than anything. Your mouth is so damn dry.Â
âNone of that,â he says, a little sternly. His expression softens when you flinch, and he brushes the hair from your face. âDonât waste your breath on such a silly sentiment. Youâre not going anywhere I donât want you to go.â
âYou said you didnât know me well enough to leave with me,â he continues, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek, then a warmer one to your unwilling lips. âYou said you hadnât had time to figure out your dreams. Now, you can take all the time you need for both of those things. Weâll have eternity, after all.âÂ
Dull, cold horror pools in your gut.
Eternity.
âDid you⌠am I⌠did you make me--âÂ
Your hands shoot to your mouth, to your teeth, feeling for fangs. But thereâs nothing new inside your mouth, unless you count the awful cotton dryness that blankets your tongue and teeth like film.Â
He smiles indulgently, and you hear someone nearby snort.Â
âNo.â A pause. âNot yet, not quite.â He smiles at your ignorance and takes your hand away from your teeth, giving it a kiss that feels like mockery even if you get the sense that he isnât trying to make fun. âThat may come later, if you behave. For now, Iâve made youâŚâ Another kiss, this time with a smile on his lips, as he seems to debate on what to say. â⌠letâs say, mine.â
You shiver. From fear, and from cold.
Chrollo presses another kiss to your lips, until he can shove his tongue in between your teeth and run it against your own. You taste yourself on him, still, that rusty taste. It makes you gag, and he pulls away.
âYou must be cold. I donât want you catching a chill so soon. Why donât you go sit in front of the fire and warm up?âÂ
You shake your head, wanting to spit out the taste in your mouth, but not having the courage to do so.
He watches you for a moment. Calculating, cold. He makes you think of an animal, in this moment. An animal thinking on what to do when his prey does something odd in the wilderness.Â
âGo sit in front of the fire,â he tells you.Â
And without wanting to, without meaning to, you do. Your body jerks up and you walk over to the fire, with its spilled chili and corpses left in its wake, and sit down.Â
Itâs like before, at the carnival, but different now. Thereâs no warm suggestion, no soothing manipulation. Only an order that you obey, and thatâs that. When you try to push yourself up, you find that you simply canât make your body do it. You can flex your fingers, your toes. You can move your arms up and down. But you cannot, in any way, stop sitting in front of that fire.
âIâd prefer you to do things willingly,â Chrollo says from his spot near the tree. âBut I donât mind giving orders either, love.â
Love.
Youâre not sure he knows the meaning of the word.
But neither do you.
Despite the fact that there are two dead kids and their dying father just feet away from you, you find the fire comforting. Itâs warm. Itâs bright. Itâs everything that the monsters around you arenât; and you arenât one of them, not exactly (not yet, your brain screams, he said not yet) and maybe you can cling to that. Cling to your humanity, to get you through this.Â
The fire crackles in front of you. At some point, Chrollo sits down, and offers you a bowl of chili that they must have set aside for you before knocking the pot down.Â
Itâs lukewarm, and a bit bland. The dying man wasnât a great cook. But you eat it, slowly, carefully, while Chrollo watches with an almost serene expression on his face. Like watching you eat was the most endearing thing in the world.Â
Above you, the night sky watches the scene with indifference.Â
#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere#afterwitch writes#this fic is my baby /wraps it in a blanket
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đ Op men + them being jealous
part 1
Featuring: Monster trio (Luffy, Sanji, Zoro)
Warning: fluffy fluff, ended up being the monster trio being subtly jealous lol Ik I was going to make it suggestive but I like it better that way, might change it for the others
Note : After 200 weeks, 1500 minutes and 25 years, Iâm finally posting this serie after thousands of drafts đŠđťâđť yâall donât know how many times I wrote and erased stuff đ
Luffy
The crew just landed on a new island, it was a huge forest, not a person in sight. You werenât particularly a big fan of walking around in an unknown deserted place, especially in the New World where you never knew on what or who you could fall.
On the other side, Luffy was absolutely fearless and enjoyed the thrill of exploring the unknown and seeing unusual creatures; Sailing was all about that for him. An adventure wasnât an adventure if he didnât feel that rush of adrenaline faced to a strange situation. He had insisted you come with the exploring team while you pleaded to stay behind with Robin and Usopp.
But here you were walking glued to Sanji as your boyfriend lead the way somewhere in this lost territory filled with trees and the noises of wild animals. He was screaming in excitement when he came across weird insects or odd looking vegetables. You sighed heavily as the anxiety was still heavily present in your system.
The cook adjusted his pace to match yours sensing your uneasiness about the situation. He knew you only came for Luffy, so he made sure to help you feel more comfortable in his own way.
Luffy ran forward as he noticed a beautiful blue flower tinted with yellow strokes that looked like gentle waves. He took it and searched for you with his eyes.
-This would look so pretty on your hair!
He exclaimed as he walked over to you and Sanji while waving the flower in his tan hand. You smiled as you thought it was adorable, but Luffyâs eyes quickly glared at your arms wrapped around Sanjis. He didnât say anything and simply fixed the flower behind your ear, complimenting you with loving eyes and his cute grin.
-You look perfect!
He announced as he put his arm around your neck, naturally removing you from Sanji. A giggle left your lips as you melt into his familiar warmth. His eyes looked down at you with so much love and care, he wouldnât want nothing to happen to you. Sanji laughed as he noticed Luffy successful attempt to get you away from him.
Your boyfriend closed the distance between his face and yours. With slightly furrowed eyebrows and serious eyes, he wondered if you were fine.
-Yeah, I just feel uneasy about walking here if Iâm being truly honest. Iâm not a fearless warrior like you, letâs say~
You explained calmly as you stared back into his big brown eyes. His expression softened up and he moved his arm to be able to grab your hand instead.
-Alright, then stay close to me only. Iâm the strongest, so I will protect you no matter what! I promise!
-Youâre sweet, thank you Luffy.
He gave a squeeze to your hand as you two followed the group through the millions of trees. Luffy smiled to himself, knowing you were relying on him to protect you now~
Zoro
It was all going well, a great night where Zoro was simply enjoying his time drinking with the others. It was all going great until he noticed a man that kept staring at you. You didnât notice as you were busy goofing around with Usopp, enjoying a fun conversation.
Zoro felt this feeling of frustration grow in him the more he glared at the person shamelessly eyeing you like he clearly couldnât see you were taken. Thatâs when it snapped for him: maybe they couldnât tell? And that angered him even more. How can this person stare at you like a candy while he was sitting just next to you.
The swordsman pulled you closer to him, making sure his arm around your waist is noticeable. He smirked relieved when he saw the man look away with an annoyed huff. He took a sip from his beer as his smile got bigger. Zoro took that opportunity to slip a quick peck on your jawline.
You stared at him weirdly, wondering what have gotten into him.
-Wassup with you?
-I cant kiss you or what?
-Yeah, but you donât usually do that.
-You always complain
He whined as he rolled his eye, but still he was glad that no one was hungrily looking your way anymore. You were his and he would make the possible to make it known. Even if it needed him to be outside of his comfort zone, he was going to make sure you were safe from lingering unwanted eyes (maybe to also make himself feel better)
You gave him a funny look, confused about his unusual bright expression. You pecked his lips not giving too much thoughts about it, before going back to your conversation with Usopp. You leant your body on your boyfriends that surprisingly responded to it by holding your waist tighter and rubbing his thumb against your tummy.
-Youâre really acting strange, but I ainât complaining
You said under your breath so only he could hear. He chuckled as he drank some more. You looked over your shoulder with a smile.
-Great, because youâre not leaving my side tonight.
Sanji
Hand in hand, you two walked through the village in the middle of all the varieties of shops surrounding yâall. You wanted to buy a necklace so you were hopeful to find something of your taste and Sanji was more than willing to help you.
He had already made his grocery shopping with you yesterday and organized everything late in the evening, so it was his rest day. He wanted to enjoy the sunny weather with his awesome lover on this pretty day.
It all started when the seller was proposing you multiple options at the table and he invited you to come in the store for something more refined for a beautiful person like you. Sanji didn't care, because of course you are beautiful, so it was only natural that other people would notice. He nodded excited to see what other options the man had that could fit you even better.
Sanji cocked an eyebrow when the seller pushed your hair behind your shoulders and got close to your face as he commented about you smelling good. You laughed as you thanked him, mentioning how your boyfriend bought the scent for you as you pointed at the cook. He put a gorgeous silver piece around your neck and handed you a mirror.
-What do we think?
He asked with a content expression, you stared at the mirror with a floating smile as you nodded, approving the jewelry.
-It's so gorgeous! Oh! What about this one?
You asked as your eyes flew to a more elegant necklace. You walked away from Sanji quickly as you engaged in a great conversation with the seller about the jewelries and some specific information, that your lover was honestly unfamiliar with. Sanji felt like you kind of forgot about him and started to wander around the store on his own as he kept an eye on you, still.
"...should I get into jewelries.."
It was those type of thoughts that occupied his mind as he sulked in his corner. Though, Sanji is a gentleman and he loved more than anything to see you happy and passionate, so he put his jealousy aside to let you enjoy your moment. So, he put his ego aside and started to think about which one would look hotter on you-
-ChĂŠrie, have you find something you liked?
He asked you as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him. You hummed as you looked at the other man and you both nodded, agreeing on something the cook had no clue about.
-I'm going to take this one, what do you think babe?
Sanji kissed your cheeks and whispered in your ears with a smirk.
-They all look beautiful to me, because you are stunning. I don't think I will be of a great help, my love.
You smiled to yourself, because Sanji likes whatever you wear or not. On his end, he just wanted to leave already and pamper you with kisses & hickeys all over your neck to celebrate your new necklace and maybe to let people know you were his..
#one piece#one piece headcanons#one piece zoro#zoro headcanons#tomiewritesđˇ#ace sabo luffy#one piece luffy#monkey d. luffy#luffy fluff#luffy x reader#luffy x you#zoro fluff#roanoa zoro#zoro x reader#zoro x y/n#vinsmoke sanji#sanji x reader#sanji fluff#sanji smut#one piece sanji
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!! the bachelors after their first kiss with you
contains ; fluff! gn!(but written with fem in mind)farmer for most. implied male in alexâs. non canon setting (for most). unestablished relationshipsâpre dating. alcohol usage. smoking (cigarettess).
note ; i had a nice time in my imagination with this one
harvey.
he stares at you, stunned at how easily you were able to do the thing heâs been thinking about for weeks. how soft your lips felt, how comforting your hand on his chest was, and how genuinely intoxicated just one simple kiss from you was already making him feel.
he clears his throat, and almost like you just sucked every world out of him, all he could muster up was a mumbled, âthank you.â he thanked you. for kissing him.
you purse your lips, trying your darnedest not to laugh watching his face just drop, realizing the first thing he said to you after you kissed him for the first time was a thank you.
âoh no, it was my pleasure.â you tease, allowing a small giggle to slip. he sighs like his blood has run cold, too embarrassed to even respond. luckily for him, youâre just too perfect, and you cool his sting by leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. you pull back with a smile, hand cupped over the opposing one, âgoodnight harvey. iâll see you tomorrow. you can thank me for that one, then.â
sam.
he acted almost as quick as you did, the moment he saw your eyes fixate on his lips and lean in, he wasted no time to fill in the gap between you two.
âyou kissed me.â he says, face washed in amusement and adrenaline. he remains a solid grip where his hands rest on your lower waist, clear he has no intent on letting you go anytime soon.
âi mightâve.â you murmur, flickering your gaze to and from his. if he didnât know any better, heâd thinkâ
âare you all shy now? did i make you nervous?â he angles his head to chase your nervously wandering eyes, mischievous grin and tease in his tone. his hand consciously cups the side of your neck, thumb pressing into your jaw to gently force your chin up and maintain eye contact.
you huff, shaking your head. âwell, a little! we just kissed!â you try not to sound too whinyâthough, the way his grin spreads almost makes you forget that plan.
âaha! i made you nervous! am i so handsome? am i such a good kisser?â he muses, snickering in triumph.
âsam,â you test, narrowing your eyes through your eyelashes.
âwhat? you dunno know the answer? wanna kiss again to find out?â
shane.
he didnât actually think youâd lean in, much less keep it going for so long that heâd have to push against you a moment later to give him a second to breathe.
but you shake your head, misinterpreting it all so quickly. âiâm sorryâiâm so sorry, i shouldnât have kissed you, i donât know why i did that, iâm sorryââ
âwhoa, i wasnât pushinâ you away,â he immediately rouses, âiâm not mad that you kissed me.â and he snickers lowly, âmore like pounced on me.â
âyouâre not?â you hum breathlessly, straightening your pants and tucking pieces of your hair back. now your chest bubbles with a new kind of embarrassment. you nibble on your lower lip, attempting to ease your breaths. âiâi dunno why i did that. i donât usually drinkâŚmuch less makeout with people while i do.â
you slouch back down on the old, creaky dock next to him. he snorts, tilting his head, ââm just too irresistible, huh?â
you shoot him a glower. âyeah,â you say like itâs sarcastic, but really, youâre well aware you arenât drunk enough to start behaving irrationally. âi just didnât mean to do that.â
âi donât mind that you kissed me.â he shrugs.
you watch as he takes a swig from his beer can. his eyes focus on the overall still lake in front of you both. âyou donât?â
he almost wants to tease you for all your disbeliefs. he chooses to scoff out a laugh instead, shaking his head. âmm-mm.â
you turn to face the water, gently swinging your dangling legs over the edge. âhm,â you hum back, âmaybe we should talk about that when weâre both sober.â
sebastian.
heâs borderline shocked at how easy it was for him to kiss you backâno hesitation after your fingers brushed the back of his hair to pull him in. heâs almost loopy, too, and heâs never been the type to swoon so hard from these kinds of affections. but heâs also learned a lot has changed since he first met you.
âyou taste like cigarettes.â you murmur as you step back, licking your lower lip as if to repeat the taste. you turn towards the city lights, and for the first time heâs finding it nearly impossible to follow your gaze.
âiâm sorry,â he truthfully says, absentmindedly stepping down on the previously tossed cigarette butt at his shoe. âiâve been trying to stop.â
âtastes like you, too. mixed in, i guess.â you note with a smile, âitâs not terrible though. but good, you should try and quit.â
he honestly doesnât know how to take thatâin his mind, he canât imagine that tastes good, much less the combination any glorious. yet you turn to him again, stuffed hands unfolding from your pockets to reach across for his.
all you had to do was to give him a tiny tug, sliding your hands up his shoulders before he repositioned his own back to where they previously sat on your waist.
âlet me bask it in while i can, though.â
alex.
youâve almost never seen him with this soft, content look on his face. youâre half expecting him to burst into laughter, try to justify his actions with a teasing lilt and offer to pretend like it never happened.
but no. all he does is look at you, watching the way your eyes shift between each of his, evaluating. like heâs waiting for one of you to break.
you take the bait. âwhyâd you do that?â you murmur, quiet enough the wind almost picks it up.
he shrugs. âi dunno. it felt right.â he hums, and despite his uncertain words, he says it with sincerity. âwas that the wrong choice?â
you think for a moment. for you, you surely thought about it for weeks. but the timing certainly didnât feel appropriate. vulnerability changes a man like him most of all, and the last thing youâd want to do was take advantage of that. you absentmindedly swirl the grains of sand under your fingertips.
âno, i donât think so.â you respond easily.
he nods. youâve never seen him this quiet, but despite that, youâve got an idea of whatâs exactly going through his mind. when he turns away, youâre certain.
âyou wonât tell anyone, will you?â
âof course not.â
elliott.
he had almost forgotten why he invited you overâjust for inspiration on the last couple chapters of his novel, or did he honestly plan for it to go like this?
âsoâŚwhat happens after theyâŚkiss?â you coyly murmur, still held in his embrace so close you can smell the drop of pomegranate on his lips.
âwell, i havenât written that far just yet,â he pauses to take a breath, âi was hoping theyâd finally confess their love.â
heâs so handsome this close, your head still reels and lips feel fuzzy as you struggle to bring back in your even breaths.
you nod, slow and computing. âyeahâno, that sounds good.â
your plump lips hold him in a trance, as do his, making it so hard to concentrate on his words all the while you feel youâre too fixated on them.
���so you believe they love each other? that they should finally tell the other?â
the kiss rendered you thoughtlessâwhat can you expect from a romantic like him? however, the metaphor is not lost on you. and had he let you go at this point, it wouldnât have been so easy for you to eagerly nod, âabsolutely. two people in love should tell each other theyâre in love.â
#â drabbles !#: ĚĚâ jo writes !!#guys look i didnât just right for harvey#this is also my first post with all of them in like a year i thinkđđ#sdv x farmer#sdv x reader#sdv harvey#sdv sam#sdv shane#sdv sebastian#sdv alex#sdv elliott#sdv harvey x farmer#sdv harvey x reader#sdv sam x farmer#sdv sam x reader#sdv shane x farmer#sdv shane x reader#sdv sebastian x farmer#sdv sebastian x reader#sdv alex x farmer#sdv alex x reader#sdv elliot x farmer#sdv elliot x reader#stardew valley bachelor hcs#stardew valley hcs#stardew valley x reader#stardew valley x farmer
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reader gets super drunk with the pogues so they have to call rafe to get her. And he wasnât very happy
lets have a good time
pairing(s): bf!rafe cameron x gf!fem!reader , the pogues x reader
warnings: alcohol, pet names, almost a fight
summary: after having one too many to drink, your friends are forced to call your boyfriend.
authors note: thank you for the request!! enjoy :)
not edited
do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.
not my gif
âcâmon, sarah. please?â you whined.
âbabe, youâve already had way too much to drink,â she said with a chuckle.
you began to pout. âbut rafe never lets me drink and we havenât all been together in sooo long,â you dragged. âthis is likeâlike the one night we can have fun. so why not enjoy it.â
âyouâre enjoyinâ it alright,â jj joked, taking another sip from his beer.
that gave you an idea. jj always drank with you.
you turned to him with a smile and the two full shot glasses. âjj?â
he could never turn down alcohol. âwhy not?â
you cheered and handed him one of the shots before counting down, connecting your lips with the glass and leaning your head back as the burn slid down your throat.
the two of you high fived each other before starting to pour yourselves another.
âyou think weâll have to call him tonight?â john b asked, standing with pope, sarah, and kiara as they watched the two take more shots.
sarah nodded. âdefinitely. sheâs not walking in this state.â
âheâs gonna be pissed,â pope said.
âso pissed,â kiara agreed.
sarah sighed and shifted her weight to one foot. âwhoâs gonna do it this time?â
john b and pope put their fingers on their noses quickly. once kie noticed, she did the same.
ânot fair,â the blonde said. âi donât wanna text him.â
kiara laughed. âheâs your brother. if he hears it from us, heâd probably run us all over on the way here.â
she sighed but pulled out her phone and began to search for his contact to call him instead while you and jj were still drunkenly stumbling around each other, laughing uncontrollably, dancing to the music and taking another shot.
âwhat do you want?â he asked, voice louder now that he was on speaker.
sarah rolled her eyes. âcan you come get y/n? weâve all been drinking, some more than others, and i donât think its a good idea for us to drive her home.â
âwhat the fuck, sarah? i told you about this shit already. stopââ
she hung up before he could get another word out. john b reached into the cooler and grabbed out some beers, handing one to each of the three. âweâre gonna need âem for this one.â
âitâs like a ticking time bomb,â kie said. âweâre basically sitting ducks right here.â
sarah shook her head. âhe wonât do anything too bad. you know she doesnât like when he gets all mouthy with us,â she replied, referring to you.
and in record breaking time, the big truck was pulling into the dead patch of grass on the side of the chateau.
you gasped when you saw your boyfriend approaching and immediately run up to him, without stumbling and tripping as much as you can, flinging your arms around him and holding yourself close to him. âhi, rafe,â you slurred against his chest.
âhi, baby,â he said softly. your balance was completely off. he wrapped his arms around you to ensure you wouldnât fall then looked up to his sister and the rest of the pogues. âare you kidding me?â
sarah shrugged. âshe was having fun, rafe. let her.â
âwhat did i tell you about this? look at her. she can barely even stand,â he spat angrily. âi told you to watch her. and you didnât. youâre supposed to monitor how much sheâs drinking so she doesnâtââ
âhey,â you mumbled quietly, leaning off his chest and stumbling back slightly to look at him. ââs fine. âm fine. i was jusâ havinâ fun with my friends andâand i had a little too much. sarah evenâeven told me i was drinking too much. âs fine though. can we jusâ go home?â you slurred between hiccups.
he took a deep breath. he could never say no to you.
âcâmon,â he said softly. you waved goodbye to all your friends and with a hand on your back to keep you steady, he led you to the car. his hands found your waist to help you up into your seat, strapping you in then shutting the door and hastily walked around to the other side.
you giggled when he got in. âi had sooo much fun today, rafe.â
he smiled to himself and began to reverse out. âi canât wait to hear all about it, sweetheart.â
#gracie writes rafe cameron đş#gracies asks and requests đ#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#rafe smut#rafe obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron smut#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe fanfiction
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Simple Math / Part Six
Simple Math masterlist
Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.
âShhh now, yeâre alright.â
Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. Heâs not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. âWhat is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?â He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If itâs not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simonâs last entry: 23:20 â 50 ML.Â
That was only an hour ago.Â
He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. Sheâs so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him.Â
âWhat is it, sweet bairn? Whatâs got ye all upset?â He touches his lips to softest skin heâs ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. âPlease dinnae cry. I-âÂ
âYou okay?â Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses.Â
âWeâre fine. Yeâre supposed to be sleepinâ.âÂ
âHeard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.â Simonâs trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise.Â
Itâs not fair. Heâs so good at it. Heâs a natural. And Johnny⌠Johnny feels like heâs failing his own kid, when sheâs not even a month old yet.Â
âI dinnae need-âÂ
âHey.â Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. âI know you donât, love. Youâre doing a great job. Itâs not your fault sheâs having a rough go.â He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simonâs chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist.Â
âShe hates me.â Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnnyâs temple in short, succinct kisses.Â
âShe doesnât. Sheâs brand new. She canât hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.â He strokes her cheek. âLetâs bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?â Johnny sighs.Â
âAlright.âÂ
âWhatâre you doing after this?â
âGoing to bed?â What else would you be doing?
âIâm thinking about going to Jackieâs for a drink⌠wanna come?â Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.
âJackieâs, huh?â You chew on your lip. You shouldnât. You really, really shouldnât. But⌠Jackieâs is a dive. Itâs dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... itâs a hospital haunt.Â
âItâs my birthday.â She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. âIâm not⌠itâs not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.â You take a deep breath. âPlease?â She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.
âOkay. One. And then I gotta go.â
âYes!â She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.
Nothing like a seven am beer.Â
Jackieâs is a distinct place. Itâs one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so youâve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. Itâs dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. Itâs an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you werenât⌠who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didnât mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.
âCoulda been a surgeon.â Youâd tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriendâs face.
âIf you were a surgeon, sugar, whoâd be at home waitinâ for me after work?â Heâd push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. âYou donât need to be surgeon. You donât even need to work. You have me.âÂ
You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat⌠but you were wrong.
You were so, so wrong.
âSo, heard thereâs a spot opening up on days.â Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. âYouâve got the seniority⌠you givinâ it any thought?â The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.
âOld Speck please. And no, I like nights.â She raises an eyebrow.
âDidnât know Americans liked Old Speck.â
âWe have it in the states. I didnât live under a rock.â You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. âVodka on the rocks?â
âIâm a straight to the point kind of girl.â She explains. âSo, no days?â
âNo days. You?â
âI might. Night shift is kicking my ass.â She complains. âDonât even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.â
âYou need like, at least six months to fully adjust.â You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.
âSix months?!â Youâre about to launch into your spiel about how itâs not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.
>Make it home from work alright?Â
>Itâs Johnny, by the way :)Â
The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnnyâs number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterdayâŚÂ Simonâs. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.
âYou okay?â Nia asks, and you nod.
âYeah, fine justâŚuh-â She peeks over your arm, and giggles.
âIs that your patient? Two sixty-eight?â
âWhat?â
âYour patient. The military hottie. The one thatâs always lookinâ at your bum.â Your face burns, and she tsks. âAh, donât be embarrassed. Heâs smokinâ. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.â Youâre surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. âArenât they⌠I mean⌠isnât the scary mask guy his partner?â Heâs not scary, you scowl inwardly. Heâs just⌠protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.
âYouâre doing great, sweetheart.âÂ
âIf you ever need anything, Johnny and I⌠weâre here.âÂ
Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. âYes⌠they⌠theyâre together. Itâs just been hard on them, so I think thereâs a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, itâs not unusual.â She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.
âTheyâre quite fit. Wouldnât mind if they formed an attachment to me.â She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. âGonna text him back?â
âNia.â You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.
âOh, come on, just a bit of fun. I donât mean anything by it.â
âItâs not appropriate.â You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.
âYouâre such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.â You do remember- Marshallâs sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.
Your beer goes sour in your stomach.
âI gotta get home.â You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. âHappy Birthday.â You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but youâre already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.
You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Niaâs at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.
By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, itâs nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.
Itâs fine. You can tell you got home okay, thatâs not crossing any lines.Â
>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!
A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.
>Get some rest. Â
The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.
Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where youâre scrolling through Johnnyâs chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.
Heâs fine, heâs better than fine, heâs⌠too healthy for the ICU.
Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.
He wonât be your patient anymore.Â
He wonât⌠be your patient anymore.Â
The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.
This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery.Â
So, youâll miss them, thatâs okay. Thereâs a little bit attachment, thatâs alright.Â
This is the best case scenario. Youâre making a mess of things. Youâre getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake.Â
Theyâre getting confused, because youâre the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, theyâll forget all about you.Â
Youâre risking too much. Youâre risking their safety, their childâs safety, your own.Â
Itâs for the best.Â
You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.
Focus on your job. Your patient. Youâre a professional.Â
Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. Itâs a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. Thatâs⌠odd. Worse, thereâs a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, heâs a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will.Â
âHey, you on your own tonight?â You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.
âAye.â Heâs sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny.Â
âHow are you feeling?â You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer.Â
ââm alright.â You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great⌠so whatâs going on?Â
âJust alright?â His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like heâs going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.
A tear tracks down his cheek. âJohnny?â You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, youâre here. âHey, hey. Itâs okay. Whatâs going on?â The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.
âItâs⌠itâs nothinâ bun. Iâm jusâ⌠Iâm havinâ a bad day.â
âWant to talk about it? I hear Iâm a pretty good listener.â You encourage, and his face twists.
âNo, I- Ach. Aye, alright.â He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. âItâs⌠beinâ in here. I want to be wiâ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, Iâm home⌠but âm not really home, and I-â His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. âIâm blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. Iâm missinâ out on everything.â Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face.Â
âYouâre not blown to bits, just a little banged up.â You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You donât even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. âHey, look at me.â His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. âYouâre making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You wonât even be in the ICU much longer, and then once youâre downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it wonât be too much longer until youâre back home with them.â He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.
âYe think so?â
âYouâre the toughest patient Iâve ever had, and Iâve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but youâre doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, youâll be at home on your own couch, bossinâ Simon around all day instead of me.â He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.
âShouldnae be cryinâ in front of ye.â
âYou can cry in front of me any time you want. Thatâs what Iâm here for. Besides, itâs not the first time.â You tease and he rolls his eyes.
âDoesnae count. I was high.â
âUh huh. Sure.â The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. âYou didnât eat?â
âDidnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.â Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now...Â
âYou hungry? I havenât eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?â He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. âAlright. Let me run down to the cafĂŠ, yeah?â
âWhatâs that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-â
âOkay!â you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like heâs wounded. âIâll be right back.â You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time? Â
You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until youâre placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnnyâs lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simonâs recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well.Â
"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have taâ do. Simonâs gonâ be so bloody jealous.â He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.
âJohnny, we⌠this⌠I- this isnât a date!â you squeak.
âWhy not?â He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?
âYou⌠you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?â He doesnât say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you canât interpret. âWhat? Why are you looking at me like that?â
âWhat did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?â
âWhat? He⌠I donât remember.â Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number?Â
Of course, he knows, he started that group text.Â
Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-
âDidnae he tell ye, weâre here for ye?â
âY-yeah.â
âWe, bunny? We.â
âI donât⌠I donât understand.â He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?
âWe like ye. Like I said, we think yeâre really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.â
âWh-what?â Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, heâll get it. Heâs smart. âNo⌠no, Johnny itâs just⌠itâs this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, itâs normal. You d-donât like me, I promise. Thereâs nothing even to like.â He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simonâs stare feels like heâs reading your mind, then Johnnyâs is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. Youâre paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.
âWhy would ye say that? That thereâs nothinâ about ye to like? Nothinâ could be farther from the truth.â
âI donât⌠thereâs not. Itâs⌠Iâm your nurse, Johnny. Thatâs all.â Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly youâre sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. âJohnny.â His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.
âShhh, hey. Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.â You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.
"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You canât let this happen. âIâve gotta check on some other patients, okay? Iâll swing back your way in a bit.â You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.
âAlright, pretty girl. Iâll see ye later, then.â He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.
Fuck. Youâre so fucked.Â
Simon and Johnnyâs house is finally silent. Â
Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.
Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way sheâll close her eyes is if sheâs being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest.Â
Heâs a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he canât help it. Neither of them can. Sheâs their baby.
So, he doesnât blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.
His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.
>Sheâs jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasnât gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.
>Â She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?
>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnnyâs lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.
>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why canât you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry thatâs creeping up the back of his neck.Â
Disagreements arenât for text messages. Theyâve learned that the hard way.Â
>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. Sheâs skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.
Simon, Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level⌠are you sure sheâs a nurse? Iâve attached everything I could find, but itâs pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from years ago in the states. Itâs not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says itâs probably the latter, which is why she doesnât exist prior to. Youâll notice on the vaccine record, she marked âunhousedâ, and I couldnât find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name. I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. Iâll keep digging. -K.L.Â
Thereâs an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simonâs skull. Itâs a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.
Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from?Â
#peaches writes#simple math#ghoap x reader#ghost x soap x reader#john soap mactavish#simon riley#simon riley x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#ghost x reader x soap#soap x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader x ghost
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best friend!eddie x reader
cw: SMUT, unprotected piv, pregnancy scare, one sided feelings, sort of sad at the end? an: the prequel to baby daddy!eddie but could be read as a stand alone if you wanted wc: 3.4k
A few years agoâŚ
Music played on the stereo in Garethâs garage, filling the house through the cracked door that connected to the house. The host himself was passed out on his living room couch, the rest of the boys laughing at him for falling asleep. The only ones left at the party were Jeff, Grant, Eddie and you, the few other guests who came to celebrate their graduations left not long ago.
You rolled your eyes as they placed Garethâs hand in a bowl of water, a prank that one of them heard would make someone piss themselves in their sleep. Instead of taking part in their stupid prank, you chose to help out with cleaning up. Empty beer cans and other snack bags started filling up the trashcan as you made your way around the kitchen.
âWhat are you in here doing, sweetheart?â
You turn to see Eddie leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, watching you as you pick up more trash.
âTrying to be helpful,â you say, shoving as much trash into the can as you possibly can. Eddie laughs, pushing off from the frame to walk over to you. He grabs the bag from the can and proceeds to tie it. You smile up at him. âThanks.â
âOf course,â he says after a moment of looking at you. You get an overwhelming feeling of domesticity as you watch Eddie take the bag out the back door. You watch him through the window as he places the bag in the can. Lighting up a cigarette, he waves at you from the cans, and you feel your cheeks grow hot from being caught staring.Â
Eddie was your best friend. Has been since he moved to Hawkins back in 4th grade. The two of you met after you spent the summer in the trailer park where his uncle and your grandma both live in. You rolled with most of the kids there, but Eddie was like a new toy to you.Â
He was hard to get out of his shell at first, mostly due to traumas you werenât aware of at the time. In retrospect, you really pushed him hard, ever persistent in your daily trips to Wayneâs trailer to get him to come out. But when he finally did agree to play with you, the two of you became immediately inseparable.Â
Everyone always joked about the two of you spending so much time together, laughing at the grossed out reactions the two of you would have at the mention of the two of you getting married one day. If your grandma was still alive, she would probably be distraught knowing that you had a massive crush on anyone other than Eddie.
After replacing the trash bag, you decide to join Eddie outside. The cool air feels amazing on your skin. The boys donât have a lot of friends outside of each other, but when all of them start drinking and playing games they seem to generate a lot of heat in such a small space.
âWant one?â Eddie asks as you approach, smoke billowing from between his lips. You nod and he pulls out his pack.Â
âDid you have fun?â You ask as he lights the cigarette for you, your hands brushing as he hands it over. The feeling of your skin touching felt like electricity through your hand.
âUh, yeah,â he says, taking a drag. âI mean, I think it could have been just the two of us and I would have been happy. Iâm just glad to finally not have to go back to that hell hole.â
âIâm happy for you, too,â you smile, taking a step closer to him. âEddie, you honestly have no idea how proud I am of you. Like, I want to shout from the roof tops that Eddie fucking Munson graduated!â
Eddie giggles at your praise, swaying a bit where he stands from the amount of alcohol heâs consumed tonight. He stretches an arm out and you oblige, accepting his tight embrace. He smells like alcohol, weed, sweat, and notes of cheap cologne that he sprayed on earlier in the evening. It was a bit intoxicating in your current state.Â
Drinking either made you super friendy or super horny, and tonight you were heading towards the latter.Â
You would never admit it, but youâd been watching Eddie all night. There was an air about him tonight. Call it confidence or call it something else, but it was something youâd never seen in him before. Itâs like heâs gotten a new found sense of life knowing that he was finally free to do whatever he wants in life. There was nothing left to tie him down and he knew it.
And, maybe unfortunately, it was doing something for you. Youâd never really thought about Eddie like that before, your long time crush on Steve clouding your mind when it came to paying attention to anyone else. But something hasâŚchanged.
And after a shot or two that you took with a few of his friends from theater class (those kids are wild), everything he did just seemed to be doing something for you. You almost fell over when he lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, his stomach that youâve seen a thousand times on on display looking extra lean and justâŚ
âHey, are you okay?â
You instantly went from feeling good to being super aware of the way Eddieâs body was touching you. With the way he was holding you, his hand rested just above your chest, almost resting on your breast. The veins in is hand seemed more prominent, the rings on his fingers suiting his hands well.
âY-yeah,â you stutter, letting go of the breath you didnât know you were holding. When he doesnât say anything, you slowly turn to look at him. Which was a mistake, because the way he was staring at you took your breath away again. His big brown eyes stared into yours, lidded in a way that made you want to squirm.
âEddie? Are you good?â
He doesnât respond, only blinks. His gaze shifts, flickering back and forth between your lips and your eyes and you feel your stomach flip.Â
This isnât how best friends look at each other. Friends don't caress your cheek like he does. They donât pull you in, making your fronts flush with each other. They donât start to block out the light from the moon as they lean in. Their lips donât meet yours, and you arenât supposed to accept it, kissing them back.
But, before you know it, your kiss turns into kisses. Feverish and hungry, tongues dancing in sync like lovers do. Youâre not lovers, but you feel that line blurring as your body is being pulled away.Â
The two of you donât disconnect until you suddenly stop. Eddie is the first to break off the kiss, reaching behind him to open the doors of his van where he pulls you in. You donât protest, gladly jumping in and pushing him down so that he lays under you. You can tell by the look on his face he wasnât expecting it. His eyes watch you as you pull the van doors closed.
Once they click together, everything happens quickly. Rushed touches and clothes flying in every direction, the two of you melt into each other.
Your perched in his lap, breasts are pressed into him with arms wrapped around his neck as you almost eat him alive. His hands rub down the expanse of your back until they land on your ass, palming you underneath your panties as you grind down against him.
Eddie is painfully hard under you. For the brief moment that you looked down at him, you were shocked at the size of the tent in his boxers. It was the one thing about him that you didnât know anything about after all these years. It sent waves to your core that only made you feel things for him youâd never felt before.
In an attempt to speed things up, you let your hand trail down his chest, his stomach, and down past the hem of his boxers. Your brows shot up when you gripped him, his true size in your hand taking you by surprise.
âMmmm, shit,â he moans under you, and your breath hitches. You watch him carefully as his face contorts in a way that youâve never seen; a new side of Eddie that you feel privileged to witness.
And then his his hand is on your head, guiding your mouth up and down on his huge cock. Tears threaten to fall down your cheeks with how far down your throat he tries to get you. But you do your best to take it like a champ. Especially with how he praises you.
âFuck, youâre amazing.â The words fall from his lips like flowing water. He lost the barrier to keep his thoughts to himself as soon as you took your bra off. âPlease donât stop.â
How could you possibly deny him? You canât. You blow him better than you ever have before, until his thighs are clenching around your head. You were fully expecting him to blow his load in your mouth at this point and you would have let him. But he pops you off of him and holds you in his hands until he can catch his breath.
âEddie, whats wrong?â You ask confused.
âIâm sorry,â he says with heavy breaths, âDidnât want to waste this chance by cumming too quick.â
Your heart leaped in your chest at his words, insinuating that he wanted more than just a quick bj in the back of his van. Youâd never thought youâd be doing this with him, but in your current state Eddie could tell you to kill someone you would without question.
âOkay,â you say with a nod, shifting your body until you were sitting in front of him. There was an awkward pause as the two of you stared at each other. You waited for him to make the next move but it seemed like it was never going to come. Youâre sure Eddie is just as wrapped up in the moment as you, so you decide to go ahead and make the next move.
You crawl towards him until youâre sitting just above his lap. His eyes never leave your face, round and in awe of you as you move closer to him. You place a hand on either shoulder and you can feel how tense he is.
âEddie, are you sure you want to do this?â
Heâs frozen for a moment. Until his head begins to nod so quickly he could have given himself brain damage from the speed.
âYes, yeah, I am. As long as you areâŚâ
âI do, too,â you assure him. You look around the messy interior of his van for a moment before looking back at him. âDo you, um, have aâŚâ
Eddieâs eyes look like theyâre about to bulge out of his head as his face shifts into that of a state of panic. He starts to babble, words incoherent until heâs able to form a sentence.
âI-I-I donât, um, I donât have anyâŚcondoms.â The last word comes out in a hushed tone, almost ashamed as he admits it.
âWell, shit,â you say, finger coming to tap against your lip as you think. Youâd never done it without a condom before, and even if you trusted Eddie, the last thing you two needed was an accident to happen.
âIâm sorry, I just--Iâve never done this, so--â
âWait, what?â You say, stopping him in his tracks. He looks up at you like he said something wrong and it kills you. âEddie,â you try and keep your tone as neutral as possible, âAre youâŚstill a virgin?â
Eddie swallows, eyes now looking anywhere but you. Eddieâs never brought up anything about his sex life before to you, but youâd not really been all that open with him for that very reason. But youâd always assumed it was just a mutual respect thing, not that he didnât have anything to share to begin with.
âItâs okay if you are,â you add, âIt doesnât bother me.â
Eddie looks at you again, though now with cheeks pinker than ever. He sighs, nodding once again, but with less vigor than before.
âYeah, Iâm aâŚvirgin.â
Something inside you flips when you hear him admit it out loud. A giddy feeling inside takes over your thoughts as you come to a realization.
âDo you want me to help you change that?â
You barely recognized your own words, and the look that Eddie gave you told you that it came out just as suggestive as you intended.Â
âAre you sure?â He stutters out, âI donât want you to do it because you feel like you have to--â
âShhh,â you shush him, placing a finger on his lips. âIâm doing this because I want to,â you say, lowering yourself so that the tip of his cock sits right at your entrance. You feel it jump in your hand at the contact. âYou just have to say the word.â
Eddieâs eyes are locked where the two of you touch, his breath hitching as your juices coat his thick head.Â
âPlease,â he says, still looking between you. âI want to.â
You smile, a heat taking over your body as you realize what youâre about to do. But, you try not to let the idea of taking your best friends virginity take you out of the moment. You had to be in charge here and you didnât want to let Eddie down.
Without a second thought, you start to lower yourself down on him. Heâs bigger than youâve been with before, so you take your time to work him in since you didnât get any prep before hand.
âWait,â he says suddenly, stopping you just as you get the tip all the way in.Â
âWhat, whatâs wrong?â You ask, starting to pull off of him. But his hands land on your hips to keep you in place.
âI want to do this. Like, you have no idea how much I want this right now. But, what about the no condom thing?â
You blink, thinking quickly over your options. The two of you are too intoxicated to go and get a condom right now. Plus, heâs already technically inside of you, so what good would one do that pulling out wouldnât, right?
âJustâŚwhen youâre about to cum, just tell me and Iâll get off. Okay?â
âAre you sure?â
âDo you want me to change my mind?â
Eddie mimics zipping his lips, and you roll your eyes at his playfulness.
âCan I continue now?â He nods again, giving you a thumbs up.
You try to get yourself back into the moment by slowly moving up and down, focusing on the feeling of Eddieâs cock inching deeper and deeper inside of you with each movement. Eddieâs head rolls back and you feel his hips bucking subconsciously beneath you.Â
You decide not to torment him anymore and fully seat yourself in his lap. He bucks forward, face colliding with your chest as heâs taken aback by the feeling.Â
âYou okay?â You say with a giggle, though youâre barely holding back a moan yourself at feeling his cock fully stretching you.Â
âMhmm,â he whimpers into your skin, the grip he has on your hips almost bruising.Â
âDo you want me to give you a minute?â
He shakes his head. âNo, please move.â
And so you do. You take your time at first, really to give yourself ample opportunity to prepare to take him at a faster pace. But with the sounds heâs making, you feel yourself getting wet enough that you can bounce yourself on his cock with more ease. He keeps his face burried in your chest as you move up and down on his cock.
Eddieâs hands loosen on your hips and move themselves up your sides until they land on your breasts. He holds them around his face, fondling and groping as they rub against his face. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, licking and teething at it softly, sending little shocks of pleasure through you.
All of the feelings were honestly a lot for you to take in. And the more you looked down at him the quicker your own orgasm was approaching. You let yourself forget about his pleasure for a moment as you chased your own high, fully seating yourself to let the thick patch of hair at his base rub deliciously against your clit. You rolled your hips against him and he whined into your chest.
Suddenly, your vision goes white as you feel yourself cumming on his cock. Your body starts to shake, and youâre pussy spasms around him, coating him in your cum.
âIs that you cumming? Holy fuck, I--â
There wasnât much time to react as your pussy was suddenly being filled. Eddieâs body tenses under you as youâre only just now coming down from your own high. But when you finally realize what was happening, you jump up as fast as you can, head hitting the top of his van.
âFuck! Damn it, Eddie!â
He snaps out of his post orgasm bliss and jumps up after you, also hitting his head on the ceiling in the process.Â
âShit! Oh my god, Iâm so sorry!â Eddieâs never been more panicked in his life than right now. Not even when he almost got caught by Hopper selling out in the woods. âI can fix this! I-I-I-â
âEddie, how the hell are you going to fix this? Fuck me, this is my fault. I should have just said no when you said you didnât have a condom.â
âNo, please donât be mad,â he says, grabbing your arms and giving you the most pathetic, sad look youâve ever seen.Â
âDo you have any money?â You ask him after a moment.
âI probably have like $3 to my name right now. Why?â
âShit, I just paid my car payment so I only have like $10. I was going to say we could run to the pharmacy and get a Plan B.â
âWhatâs that?âÂ
âItâs like a pill thatâs supposed to keep you from getting pregnant. But theyâre, like, $20 or something crazy like that.â
âIâll go to Rick. I can probably get some supply from him and sell it in a couple days.â
âI think it only works like the next day. Itâs called the morning after pill for a reason I think.â
âShit, shit, shit.âÂ
âWhat about Wayne?â
âI canât go to Wayne.â
âWhy not?â
âWhy donât you ask your mom?â
You sigh. He had a point. There was no way you could ask your mom without her asking why. And money was already tight so there wasnât a good excuse to make up for you needing $20 out of the blue.Â
âYou know what, itâs fine.â You say, convincing yourself that it was. âMy period should be coming soon, so I think weâre okay.â
âHow soon is soon?â Eddie asks, clearly not convinced.
âLike, in a week and a half? Usually around the beginning of the month.â
Eddie breaths in, then out, head slumping. He drops to his knees before you and you can see his body start to shake.
âEddie?â You drop down to his level and get a look at his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and it sent an arrow through your heart to see him so upset.
âIâm so sorry.â His words come out watery, his head starting to shake. âI didnât want this to be how it happened.â
His words hit you like a truck. Of course he didnât want his first time to be like this. He probably wanted it to be with someone he loved, not with his friend, and definitely not with the possibility of getting you pregnant.Â
Guilt washed over you. You should have been the better person and not given in to your sick desire to share something like this with him.Â
But itâs too late.
You can only hope that this doesnât ruin your friendship forever.
than you for reading!
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#baby daddy!eddie munson x mom!reader#baby daddy!eddie#baby daddy!eddie munson#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fan fic
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JEALOUSY
ŕ¨ŕ§ Warnings: cursing, smut, oral sex, fingering.
ŕ¨ŕ§ Pairings: JJ Maybank x Female Reader
ŕ¨ŕ§ Summary: In which, JJ gets jealous of Y/N's friendship with John B after Y/N comes back from a 2 month long trip.
ŕ¨ŕ§ Author's Note: This was the first fic that I had ever written. Like all of my old fics, I have tweaked it a bit so it can be better written since I wasn't the best at writing when I first started out. <3
coco-cinnamon. please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.
Sitting by the crackling fire, you breathe in the refreshing autumn air, overjoyed to reunite with your friends and boyfriend after two months away with your parents for your father's work. JJ approaches, handing you one of the two beers he's carrying.
He smiled as he sat down beside you, then leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm so glad I get to see you again, babe." He said. You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling contentedly. "I'm glad too. I really missed this."
Suddenly, Kiara plopped down next to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "Hey, don't hog Y/N! We missed her too!" She said with a chuckle. You laughed and hugged her back, then glanced over at JJ. He looked slightly annoyed at the interruption.
He sighed, "I know you've missed her, Kie, but I'd like some alone time with my girlfriend. It's been two months since I've seen her." John B joined them, saying, "Oh come on, JJ. She's our best friend too - we've all missed her just as much as you have." You giggled softly and blew JJ a kiss. "Sorry, babe, looks like you'll have to share me for a bit."
JJ chuckled softly, pretending to catch the kiss in his hand and placing it over his heart. "Okay, I get that you two lovebirds missed each other, but save the PDA for later." Pope said, sipping his beer. You jokingly flipped him off - that was just how your relationship with him worked. You two constantly teased and poked fun at each other, but that was how you bonded.
Pope playfully rolled his eyes and took another sip of beer. "Kie, you're hogging her - let JB and me see her too." He chuckled. "Fiiine.." She relented, releasing you. You then sat between John B and Pope. John B gently hugged you, and you giggled as you hugged him back. John B was your best friend, someone you had known even before he met JJ.
After a few drinks, you playfully teased John B. "Is this how it's going to be? Fine!" He laughed, then started tickling you, making you squeal. "Okay, okay... I'm sorry, just stop!" You giggled.
JJ watched you and John B laugh and mess around. Jealousy flickered in his eyes - he didn't enjoy sharing you, even with your friends, and seeing how you were with John B right now only made it worse. He looked away from you both, then got up to get another beer.
After Pope, Kiara, and John B had departed, only you and JJ remained. Though slightly tipsy, you remained cognizant of your surroundings. Meanwhile, JJ - visibly intoxicated - sat slouched on the couch, his expression conveying annoyance. "Baby, are you okay?" You asked, settling in beside him and gently taking hold of one of his hands.
Sounding irritated, he asked, "Do you love me? Or are you just with me to get close to John B?"
You cupped his face, worry filling your eyes, and questioned, "JJ, where is this coming from?"
"I saw the way you acted with John B tonight. You barely even acknowledged me," He said as he frowned, his words still making sense despite his drunken state.
"I know you missed me baby, and I really missed you too but, you were with me all day. Not that I'm complaining, I loved every second of it." You said as you frowned slightly. "But I also wanted to spend time with John B, Kiara, and Pope. I missed them too."
JJ sighed. "I know, I know. I just missed you so much. I didn't want to share you - I wanted you all to myself."
You giggled softly. "Well, that's nothing new."
JJ leaned in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Plus, you wore my favorite bikini tonight. You looked so fucking hot, I couldn't keep my eyes off you. I wanted nothing more than to just fuck you right then and there."
You stifled a whimper as wetness pooled between your thighs. Instinctively, you clamped your legs shut, but his smug gaze pinned you in place. "Uh-uh, don't close up just yet, baby." He purred, spreading your legs apart once more. With a few deft tugs, he untied the strings of your bikini bottoms, exposing your glistening cunt. He repeated the motion with your top, leaving you completely bare before him.
He studied your body for a moment, biting his lip. He then tugged off his swimming trunks and stood up beside the couch. You giggled knowingly and got onto your knees. Your mouth latched onto his hardening length, and you began to suck. JJ let out a low groan as you kept bobbing your head, taking him in fully. His moans grew louder before he pulled you up into a passionate kiss. Your tongues intertwined as he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer against him.
JJ pulled you close, then lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Entering, he shut the door and tossed you playfully onto the bed. You giggled as he climbed on top, kissing you hungrily. Trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, he made his way to your breasts. His mouth latched onto your left nipple as his hand massaged your right. You let out a moan, gently biting your lip. He then switched, sucking on your right nipple while caressing the left. "Mm, JJ, just fuck me already.." You whimpered, tugging at his hair.
"Patience, princess." He murmured, planting a trail of kisses down your abdomen. His hand drifted lower, eliciting a soft gasp as he caressed your clit. You shivered with anticipation, tangling your fingers in his hair as he lavished attention on the most intimate parts of you. Planting a gentle kiss on your sensitive nub, he elicited a soft giggle as you playfully ran your fingers through his hair. Licking up your slick folds, he slid a finger inside you, his tongue circling your clit. Your moans grew louder as the sensations built. "JJ, I'm so close." You panted.
He smirked as he added a second finger, continuing to lick your sensitive clit. The sensations built, causing you to moan and feel a tightening in your core. Determined to make you climax, he quickened the pace of his ministrations with his fingers. Unable to hold back any longer, you let out a final, trembling moan as your release washed over you. He licked his fingers clean, then positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his shaft teasing your folds. "Jayj, please fuck me already." You whimpered impatiently.
JJ suddenly thrust into you, aided by how soaked you were. You let out a loud moan and grabbed the sheets as he began pounding you. You continued moaning and squeezed your breasts. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as his eyes focused on your breasts. Each stroke now hit your g-spot, eliciting screams from you.
He let out a moan. "Mm.. I know baby, I know." He cooed as more moans, squeals and screams fell from your parted lips. At this point, you could barely form words, reduced to a moaning mess - which only turned him on more. He released your wrists, pulled out, and then flipped you onto your stomach. JJ slapped your ass hard before thrusting into you again.
He moaned in ecstasy, "Oh, Y/N! You feel so good!" He picked up the pace. Breathless, you cried out, "JJ, I- fuck!" You gasped, "I'm close..." Grasping the sheets, you moaned louder as JJ slapped your ass once more, leaving a red handprint in its wake. Finally, you reached your climax, your cries of pleasure filling the air. He thrust into you a few more times before pulling out and releasing his seed onto your back.
You giggled, catching your breath, and laid down. JJ laid beside you, holding you close as you rested your head on his chest. "Damn... that was so hot." He said, also catching his breath. You giggled and bit your lip. "Yeah, I missed our sex." You replied.
"I'm sorry for getting so jealous. It was dumb and childish - he's your best friend." He kissed your head reassuringly. "It's okay, baby," you replied, smiling as you lifted your head to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Y/N." JJ murmured, kissing your head again. "I love you too, JJ." You said, holding him tightly. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut as you drifted off to sleep in JJ's arms.
ŕ¨ŕ§ Author's Note: thank you so much for reading, angels!
#obx#outer banks#obx smut#outer banks smut#outerbanks#smut#⥠â§âË â
๨ৠâ§â .á đŹđ¸đŹđ¸-đŹđ˛đˇđˇđŞđśđ¸đˇ#⥠â§âË â
๨ৠâ§â .á đłđł đśđŞđđŤđŞđˇđ´ đŻđ˛đŹđź#jj maybank#jjmaybank#jj#maybank#j. maybank#jj maybank smut#jj smut#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x female reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x f!reader#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x kook!reader#jj maybank x kook reader#jj maybank x female kook reader#jj maybank x fem!kook reader#jj maybank x f!kook reader#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj maybank x pogue reader#jj maybank x female pogue reader
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Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."
baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!
please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!
anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?
warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!
"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader
It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.
"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.
One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."
Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.
"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.
"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.
"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"
"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?
"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.
"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.
"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.
After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.
"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.
"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.
"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"
You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.
"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.
"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."
Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.
You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.
Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.
"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"
The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.
Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.
Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.
You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.
"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.
You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.
"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"
"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"
Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.
"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun imagine#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#top gun maverick imagine#miles teller
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