#please know that I’m going to pin this up on my desk so I can look at it every day

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

Em you are the most INSANELY talented human I have ever met— HOW does your mind contain such galaxies 😫🙈 I am constantly so in awe of you and your unending talent, thank you so, SO much for this gift!!! 😫🤍🫶🏼

"You can't run forever, my love."

i know this did not win the poll but exceptions must be made when highly important events like @grilledcheeseandguavajelly 's birthday are upon us. happy (late) birthday, lark. <333

(click for better quality, please don't repost without credit)

[monstersholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Minotaur x fem!reader—fingering, exhibitionism, rough sex, marking, light spanking, light throat squeezing

Pt1 Pt2

You were stuck blindly walking around your new office building. Not realizing when you made the decision to look for your Minotaur Boss that you have no idea where his office is. Plus, it didn’t help that you could barely stand on your own two feet or that your head was still a big foggy and clouded over with undeniable lust.

The promise of your hot Wolf Hybrid neighbor ringing in your ears. He’d take you next time. And boy, you couldn’t wait for the day. Maybe he’d bring his friends again. The idea of trying out all those different cocks that had cum all over your body only minutes ago has you only growing dizzier. Fuck, who are these people you’ve been meeting? No one usually acts like this, do they?

As you walk into an open office area, you grow more and more confused. So many doors. So many places your boss’ office could be. You whirl around to ask for help, but end up tripping over your own feet in the process. A small helpless yelp leaves you as you go tumbling.

But just as quickly as you were about to accept your face and make a total ass of yourself in front of your new coworkers, a pair of strapping arms curl around your plush waist, stopping you from falling. Those same arms pull you in, snapping your hips against theirs. A weak moan falls past your lips and you pathetically melt into the stranger.

You couldn’t help it as their delicious scent washes over you. Oh, you could just burrow into it. It’s then you realize your eyes had closed from the impending fall. They flutter open and immediately look up to greet your savior. You wanted to thank him, but fuck, his sheer beauty just blew you away. You had never seen a more gorgeous Bunny Hybrid in your life and you were briefly distracted in your quest for your boss.

“Hey beautiful, no need to throw yourself at me. Could’ve just taken me right here,” the Bunny Hybrid Secretary said smoothly, his lips pulled into a panty-dropping smirk.

“Huh?”

“I’m the Minotaur Boss’ secretary and he prefers it if I do all my work here. He likes to watch,” the Bunny Hybrid purrs. He tugs you around, pinning your back against his desk.

A small squeak leaves you and your mind immediately falls into the dirtiest depths. His words conjuring so many naughty images in your head that you’re positive he didn’t mean to allude to. Yet your vision blurs with lust anyway. There must be something in the air of this city, you swear you’re not always like this.

Then the rest of his words begin to register and you try to blink the fog from your mind.

“T-the boss, that’s it! Do you know where his office is? I need him— need to see him immediately,” you say desperately, hands flying to the secretary’s hips. His smirk widens at your touch and he leans more into you.

“Oh, so you like it hard and rough, huh? You must be really needy if you’re willing to see him. You only go in there if you’ve been really bad… or really good. But I can take care of you, baby. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Please, I really need his help,” you beg shamelessly. His eyes flash with interest and for a moment you think he’s about to ignore your request all together and keep you pressed against him.

But then his bottom lips juts out into a pout and he releases you. Even going so far as to dramatically turn his back to you and cross his arms. Acting as if all his interest is suddenly gone. Though a quick glance down reveals otherwise.

“Fine, you don’t want me? Then have him! He’s right over there and he’s inside. Good luck,” he huffs and points just across from where the desk sits.

You glance back once more at the Bunny Hybrid Secretary. The urge to go back and show him just how badly you do want him tugs at your chest. But no, this is your job. This is your place of work and today is supposed to be your first day. Definitely not the time. You didn’t think it was anyway.

What you really needed was to find the headhunter who got you hired and finally get to work. In his previous emails he had always mentioned needing to see how well you performed for him. Whatever that meant. But getting in touch with your new boss had to be the best way to find him.

Just as you’re about to knock on his office door you hear a gruff ‘get in here!’ The sound has you jumping in your bones. But your body starts to tingle at the demanding tone of his voice. You brace yourself while opening the door and you know you made the right choice as you walk in. You silently curse under your breath. Why the hell is everyone so damn hot in this city?

Your Minotaur Boss sits behind his desk, his features drawn down into a stern expression. His imposing form appearing almost big as the desk and it has your panties flooding with arousal. His tight suit hugs his raging muscles so deliciously. But what really catches your eye is the silver ring hanging from his snort. A perfect combination of man and beast and it has you weak in the knees.

“Hello, sir, I’m—“

“I know who you are. You’re the new hire,” Minotaur boss says, slowly standing up in a way that has you ready to get down on your knees.

He walks around his desk, beginning to lightly pace as if surveying his prey. His hot amber eyes searing into yours.

“Only your first day and already causing such a disruption in my office.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just been such a hectic morning,” you try and excuse, not recognizing the shakiness or huskiness of your own voice. But Minotaur Boss sure does. He turns to face you, growing impossibly taller as he closes in.

The furious heat, the need, rises up within you once again and a whimper slips past your lips. The tension within the office is stifling and you swear you’re about ten seconds from either jumping his bones or dashing out the door. Given you’re sure you can’t do either, you opt for glancing down at your feet. But Minotaur Boss hooks a hoofed finger under your chin and forces you to meet his gaze.

“And you don’t think we’ve all had the same morning you did? Yet we come here and appear professional and put together.”

While you don’t think everyone in the office has had quite the same morning as you, you get his point. Kind of. You try and pay attention to what he’s saying but all you can focus on is the fact that his face is so close that his small huffs of breath fan your face. His lips so very close to your own. You start to revise the idea of jumping his bones.

“Yes, sir,” you reply slowly, your speech a bit slurred as you feel drunk off his vicinity. His sheer dominating presence washing over you and begging you to submit.

Minotaur Boss smirks as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. It’s like he’s almost doing it on purpose. But no, that can’t be. He couldn’t want you as much as you find yourself desperately wanting him. You two just met. That would be too soon for anyone else.

“Now I think you need to learn your lesson about what happens to naughty little whores like you when they act up here,” Minotaur Boss snaps, his rough voice tickling your senses and turning you on more than imaginable.

Your eyes widen at him but before you can even respond he’s flipping you around and pressing you into the glass wall of his office. You gasp as you’re immediately met with a view of the entire office. You can see them as much as they can see you right now.

Minotaur Boss yanks down your clothes, exposing your wet pussy to the cold air. You shiver against the glass. White hot shame bubbles up in your belly as you look out into the office. Some of the workers watch on, others give passing glances, and even Bunny Hybrid Secretary mouths ‘I told you so.’ But none of them look surprised. Like this is a normal occurrence for them. For some reason that only has your thighs growing more slick with arousal.

You jump as your boss’ thick hoofed fingers glide through your pussy, spreading you wide and catching every little bit of slick that’s gathered. He chuckles darkly and removes fingers, only to moan a second later. The clear sounds of slurping reach your ears and you know he’s tasting you on his fingers. You wanna see that so badly yet you’re frozen against the glass, not wanting to move without his permission.

He hums happily at your obedience and his fingers quickly return to your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in tight circles. You feel his frame hover over yours and you immediately melt into his embrace. His free hand holds your hip, giving you silent permission to use his strength and get absolutely weak for him. As you sink against him his fingers sink right into your tight heat. A long mewl leaves you at the stretch from his fingers alone. He doesn’t hesitate to start pumping his fingers inside you, curling them at just the right moment to get your hips jerking and meeting his thrusts. A soft rumble moves through your bosses chest.

“I can tell your pussy’s been used well here, so willing to let me in. This city’s been treating you good, hunny.”

You moan weakly, eyes squeezing shut. The way he so bluntly calls you out has you clenching around his fingers. He growls under his breath and picks up his pace, hand snapping into your sopping cunt with brute force. Fingers curling and scissoring you open wide for him. You cry out, body writhing against him. How this man knows your every weak point is beyond you. He hits every sweet spot along your gummy walls he can find and your orgasm builds quickly.

Looking out into the office again you see more people stopping their work to watch you. You can’t help but hide away into the warm chest of your Minotaur Boss. A carful of people was one thing but an entire office felt a bit more daunting. But the way your boss didn’t even seem to care turned you on more than you realized. You quickly find yourself on the edge. Feeling your pussy spasm against his fingers, your boss quickly slips his fingers out.

Before you can let out a single complaint, your boss is stuffing his slick covered fingers deep in your open mouth, silencing you. You let out a noise of surprise but listen to him and focus on cleaning his fingers of you instead of talking. His hand on your hip leaves and you hear the soft clanging of a belt unbuckle. Sparks shoot down your spine and straight to your throbbing core.

When Minotaur Boss pushes his thick cock head through your wet folds you’re already pushing back. A playful shriek leaves you as his tip nudges at your entrance. Your boss’ hands both move to rest on your hips and he teases you, pushing his tip in little by little. You instinctively clench around him, trying to suck him in. He clicks his tongue at you

“What a naughty pussy you got here, hun. Think I’m gonna have to teach it some fucking manners,” he says and slams his entire length inside of you in one solid stroke.

Your back arches unnaturally, jaw dropping in a silent scream. But you don’t even get a second to process the sensations coursing through you as his hips snap back, starting at a brutal pace. Your hands shoot out to brace yourself against the glass but your boss instantly snatches your hands and holds them behind your back. He smushes you against the glass, your body wetly smacking against it with each brush.

“Ooooh— nngh— god! Oh god! Fuck,” you wail, eyes rolling back into your head as he sends your body buzzing.

Minotaur Boss laughs wickedly and you moan again, loving how he uses you. Ready to open your mouth and release more obscenities, your boss shuts that down with a firm smack on your ass and you merely help in response. He smacks your ass again.

“Louder! I wanna fucking hear you, hunny! Gotta welcome everyone in the building with your sweet sweet moans,” he growls, picking up pace, his cock slamming inside you.

Every deep snap of his hips nudges against your cervix and has your eyes crossing. You weakly try and move back against his thrusts but he keeps you pinned against the glass wall of his office. Forcing you to show off every inch of what he’s doing to you to the whole room. And you don’t dare wait a moment before listening to his demands. Your moans echoing off the walls and grating against your ears till you’re sure the whole building can hear you. Every smack of his hand on your ass has you growing even louder.

“H-how can this be so bad but so good? The boss fucking a subordinate. The entire office watching and touching themselves. How does no one get in trouble?” You shout in ecstasy, your eyes flickering to your coworkers who’ve started touching themselves. Some even moving to fuck each other too. Your boss nuzzles into your neck, lapping up your sweat.

“One of the benefits of living in a free use city, baby,” your boss says with another taunting laugh that has your toes curling. But you have no clue what he’s talking about. It’s hard to focus with his cock hammering itself inside your sopping cunt.

“A what?”

“Free use city. Means I can take you whenever and wherever I want. And you can do the same to me or anyone,” Minotaur Boss growls his weak explanation. But it’s hard for him too with your pussy clenching and fluttering around his girth.

Even with the brief explanation your mind spins. Not understanding what the hell is going on. You moved into a free use city? How was that not on any of the brochures the headhunter had given you. He just sent you into this place completely blind.

“But I didn’t…”

Minotaur Boss catches your expression. One of his hands curl around your throat and tilts you back. Your spine arches with it and you moan weakly as your boss slides into your cunt at a new angle, his cock brushing along your sweet spot with each jerk of his hips.

“You saying you didn’t know?”

All you can you is faintly shake your head, your eyes lost in a haze of confusion and lust. Your cunt once again spasms around his girth and he knows you’re getting close again. His own expression shifts, eyes twinkling with mischief as his hand squeezes around your throat.

“Well what a treat for you, eh? Now prove to me how much you belong here and cum all nice and pretty on my cock.”

As if your body was waiting for his command, your belly tightens and the cord snaps as you start coming on his cock. Your juices spraying all over the glass wall as your body thrashes in his hold. Minotaur Boss, as always, maintains a solid grip on you. Fucking up into you through your orgasm until he follows soon after and cums deep inside you, shooting buckets of his hot semen in your belly.

Minotaur Boss works with an efficiency fit for a boss as he slips out of you and gets to work cleaning you up. All you can do is pant heavily against the glass, your mind still whirling from the revelation. Everything that had happened to you since yesterday suddenly making a lot more sense.

But none of the information you had about this place mentioned it being a free use city. Should you have done your own research? You guess so. But the truth about this place shouldn’t have been hidden either. This was all because of your headhunter… and you were finally gonna get answers. You struggle to push off the glass and turn to your boss, once again fully clothed.

“Where— where can I find the headhunter who hired me? I need… to see— to talk to him immediately,” you stammer over your words, still trying to pick yourself back up again.

Minotaur boss settles back in his desk chair, leaning back and looking more than satisfied. But amusement quickly joins in as it dances in his eyes. Clearly finding your situation hilarious. He points down the room and you follow the line of it to a door marked ‘Conference room D.’

“In the conference room but, uh, he might be a little busy at the moment…”

With your destination in sight strength pours back into you. Your legs stop shaking and you stand up a little bit taller. Maybe it’s all the anger flowing through you but you let it propel you forward. Readying to give your headhunter a piece of your mind. And maybe a piece of something else too…

[angelanderson]

Please do more dom Abby hcs

dom!abby headcannons pt 2

MINORS DNI! part one. 18+ under the cut + bonus fluff. i <3 dom!abby!!!!!! these are so much fun to write :) kinda edited.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱──────────

♡ dom!abby who loves to dress you up. she chooses your outfits on the weekly dates she takes you on. she’ll even surprise you with matches sets to take off of you when she inevitably has you spread out for her afterwards.

♡ dom!abby frequently redos your hair as part of your aftercare. she keeps ribbon, your favorite hair products, and extra hair ties in her bathroom just for that purpose. she’s even started matching her outfits to your ribbon choices.

♡ dom!abby can always tell when you’re uncomfortable. when she can tell you want to leave somewhere, she’ll make up a lie about how needing to go, just so you’re not embarrassed. she values your comfort and safety above all else!

♡ dom!abby will have you suck her strap off anytime you get too mouthy with her. she knows you know she doesn’t put up with bratty girls! if she’s working, she’ll make you suck her off under her big, expensive oak desk.

♡ dom!abby owns a few different strap-ons. her favorite is her ejaculating one. she swears she can feel how tight you are with each thrust of her strap. she also loves the purple one that doesn’t fill you up the way you like when she wants to tease you. and don’t forgot her vibrating one! you two frequently use it to see how many times you can cum on her strap.

♡ soft!dom abby still fawns over you while she’s punishing you. “keep counting, okay? gonna make you feel so good afterwards” and “doing so good. my brave girl, i love you”, as she’s spanking you for not listening all day.

♡ mean!dom abby makes you work for it, unlike when she’s in a softer mood. mean!dom abby definitely doesn’t put up with your attitude after she’s asked you twice. “nu-uh, you don’t get to cry your way out of this one. if you want to act like a bad girl, i’m going to treat you like one.” and if you try to fight back, she’s just going to deny another orgasm.

♡ dom!abby definitely uses the way she’s bigger and stronger than you to her advantage. she’ll easily manhandle you when you’re acting too bratty, hold you down while she overstimulates you, and pin you against the wall just to make you feel deliciously helpless against her.

♡ dom!abby makes you beg to eat her out. she also wants it, of course, but she loves to see her pretty girl squirm for her. her favorite way is to have you eating her out while you’re on your knees. and if you get bruises, she’ll kiss them on her way up to eating you out.

♡ dom!abby likes to see how long you can ride her before you’re pathetically whining about how tired you are, how much you love her, how much you need her to do it. “just need my help, hmm? my sweet girl can’t even get off without my help.” you’re too blissed out to know she’s mocking you.

♡ dom!abby is the kind of girlfriend (or wife) to leave you little notes around the house about how much she loves you. she frequently gives you flowers just because “pretty girls deserve pretty flowers”. if you’re having a bad day, she’s going to cook your favorite dinner and hold you extra close all night. and when you demand to bake her some sweet treats in return, she can’t refuse. “i love you” is the first thing she says to you in the morning and at night. she adores you!

[lordprettyflackotara]

deja vu || hoodie

‘do you get deja vu?’

sum: after waking up you find a mysterious man in your room, one that feels eerily familiar. you can’t deny that you know him somehow, nor can you deny your attraction to him

tw: smut minors dni 18+, hair pulling, humiliation, murder, roughness

a/n: kinda really proud of this concept

Boom!!

You sat straight up in your bed, heart pounding as your soaked in the remnants of the sound. Across the room was your window, your thin curtains failing to conceal the storm raging outside. You rubbed your temple, shaking off a cold sweat you had developed. Thunder storms always made you nervous. You sighed, your eyes scanning your dark room. You weren’t afraid of the dark. That’s what you always told yourself anyway. You were afraid of what was lurking in it.

With an out stretched arm your fingertips found your desk lamp, clicking the switch. The lamp illuminated the room, your eyes widening in terror as your gaze landed on an ominous intruder. He sat man spreading in your rocking chair, tucked away in the corner of your room. A black ski mask with a poorly stitched set of red eyes and frown stared back at you, a mustard yellow hoodie concealing the rest of his defining features. You could see the muddy footprints his boots left on your floor starting from your bedroom door. You gulped nervously, tugging at your comforter to cover yourself more.

“W-Who are you?” You sputtered. The man shifted in the chair, as if he was studying you. He was mysterious and a misty memory at the same time. “Call me Hoodie,” He responded, his voice deep and rough. You stared at him dumbfounded, at a loss for words. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Hoodie chuckled, as if your terror was amusement. You straightened out your back, giving him a look so nasty you swore it could kill. “What? No. Why are you in my house?” You asked boldly. Hoodie rolled his sleeves up, revealing his toned arms. “I was in the neighborhood,” He shrugged carelessly. You found the courage to get out of bed, running out of the room. You were anything but graceful, your footsteps audible as you stumbled down the stairs.

You were almost to the bottom, when a strong set of hands shoved you. You didn’t have time to process it, gasping as you helplessly fell to the bottom of the stairwell. Groaning in pain you tried to crawl, Hoodie’s straddling you and pinning you down against the floor. You could feel his crotch against your exposed ass, regrettably attempting to run in a skimpy victoria’s secret night gown. “I love it when you run, it’s always so cute,” Hoodie purred. His fingers raked themselves through your hair, yanking your head off of the floor. “You’re going to give into me, you always do sweetheart,” He cooed. He snickered at your thrashing, attempting to crawl away. “I don’t know you, you’re a fuckin psycho!” You screeched, desperately clawing at the wooden floorboards. You whimpered under him yanking at your hair once more, bringing you closer to him.

“I know you better than you know yourself. I know how to make you cum in under a minute. I know where you hide your vibrator. I know what your deepest darkest secrets are. I’m a shadow you can’t escape,” Hoodie growled. You became panicked, your heart pounding against your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. “Awe sweetheart don’t panic, i’m here to please you,” He grinned, grinding against your ass. You audibly gasped, unsure how to process your body responding to him willingly. It was as if you had felt him dozens of times before, if not more. He reeked of tobacco and cologne, his musk flooding your nostrils. It seemed so familiar.

“Who are you?” You whispered, questioning him again. Hoodie sensed this, releasing your hair. “I’m your non traditional guardian angel sweetheart,” Hoodie grunted. He lifted himself off of you, allowing you to climb to your feet. Your gaze remained on the floor, claw marks that were older clawed into the wood. You narrowed your eyes, realizing you hadn’t made those. They were too far away, you wouldn’t have been able to make them. The sound of a lighter flickering snatched your attention, Hoodie shamelessly lighting a cigarette. “You can’t smoke in here,” You hissed, slapping his arm. Hoodie chuckled, tilting his head back. It was then he shoved off his ski mask, carelessly tossing it aside.

Dozens of lives you swore you could’ve lived before washed over you, your head beginning to spin. Unsurely you rose your hand, reaching out to him. Your fingertips grazed his stubble, his chapped lips ones you remembered somehow. But how? “Are you real?” You whispered. You cupped his cheek, Hoodie staring down at you slightly. “Probably more real than you,” He whispered back. He extended his hand, offering you his cigarette. You waved it away, cringing at the smell. “I don’t smoke,” You declined. Hoodie found this amusing, taking another hit. “Yeah you do. Try it,” He insisted. You crossed your arms defensively, unintentionally pushing your breast together. “What do I get if I do?” You countered. A smirk creeped across Hoodie’s lips, your attention temporarily mesmerized as he exhaled out of his nostrils. “You hit that and cough, i’ll go. If you don’t though, you’ll give me what I want,” He purred.

Goosebumps trailed across your skin at the sound of his words, causing you to swallow.

“And what is it you want?”

“You.”

The confession created a heavy pause in the room, your head spinning. If you agreed to this silly game, you’d get this invasive intruder out of your house without a fight. If you didn’t, you doubted you’d be able to successfully call the police this time. You couldn’t recall smoking a cigarette in your entire life. You knew you were going to cough. Hesitantly you grabbed the cigarette from him, instinctively placing it between your two fingers. You unsurely placed it to your lips, inhaling deeply. To your surprise the tobacco was like a big hug, something you relished in. You could feel it swirl around your lungs, before exhaling it. A mere tickle in your throat was no where in sight.

“W-What the hell?” You whispered, staring at the cigarette. Hoodie grinned mischievously, taking the cigarette back. “What’d I tell you? Now bend over,” He barked. A normal person in your shoes would’ve been scared. They would’ve been terrified, scrambling to escape. Yet something about Hoodie felt so familiar and you couldn’t deny the way his orders sent pleasure right to your core. You couldn’t explain it, feeling an odd sense of deja vu as you crawled onto the couch, arching your ass into the air. Heat dashed across your cheeks as the AC brushed against your skin, goosebumps arising. Hoodie’s gloved hand met the mounds of your ass, an unseen satisfied smirk growing across his face. “So beautiful. So obedient. You always end up listening to me,” He murmured, mostly to himself. He took another drag of his cigarette, carelessly pulling your panties down.

It was embarrassing how wet you were, all for a man who broke into your home. He dragged two fingers up your slick, teasing you. “So wet for a stranger, interesting,” Hoodie chuckled. His cigarette hung lazily from his lips as he spread open the mounds of your ass, admiring your holes. “So pretty. My pretty girl,” He hummed. It was odd, hearing his words that you swore you had somehow heard time and time again. You whimpered at the sound of his belt clinking, one of his thick fingers welcoming itself into your aching cunt. “Just as tight as always. You always out do yourself,” He mumbled, exploring your cunt. You swallowed in embarrassment, in disbelief your body was reacting to him as if he were an old friend. He quickly removed his singular digit, his shaft teasingly rubbing up and down your slick.

“You wanna know my favorite thing about you sweetheart?” Hoodie asked, his tip rubbing against your clit. You shuddered at the sensation, embarrassed of how easily your body gave in to him. “You’re always so easy to slide right into. It’s like you were made for me,” He gloated. A protest was on the tip of your lips, a gasp escaping them instead as he slid into you with ease. You had never been so wet before, your gummy walls eagerly accepting his cock as he sank into you. You were in disbelief, unable to comprehend the way your body adored his. Hoodie grunted as he bottomed out, his gloved hands gripping your waist. Sheepishly you buried your face into the couch cushion, a groan escaping your lips unwillingly. “Does it feel good sweetheart?” He asked, taking a proper inhale of his cigarette. He stayed inside of you for a moment, allowing you to feel him fully. When you didn’t respond Hoodie frowned, delivering a sharp slap to your ass.

You didn’t recognize the sinful moan that left your lips.

“Answer me.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows you refused to glance at him. “It feels good,” You replied, humiliated. Hoodie was gleaming with pride beginning to move his hips to fuck you properly. He was anything but gentle, fucking you as if you were the last woman on earth. It was as if he was determined to pull as many noises out of you as possible. Embarrassed at your own noises you bit your bottom lip, unable to conceal them. Someway somehow your body liked this. It liked being fucked by an intruder with an attitude problem. Your hands clawed at the couch as he abused your g spot, destroying your cunt the way he pleased. Grunts and curses left his lips like a mantra. All teasing and degrading had subsided, his focus completely shifted and occupied on his own high.

Your perky nipples rubbed against the rough leather of the couch, your hand slithering down to your neglected clit. It was apparent to you Hoodie was in this for his orgasm alone, no matter what he said. Not only was it embarrassing for you to be bent over like this, taking a strangers dick. But it was even more humiliating you wanted to get off just as much as he did. Your fingers were shaky as they circled your clit, your moans now more loud and unhinged. Hoodie thrust showed no sign of stopping, even after he carelessly tossed his cigarette bud aside. The smell and sound of sex clouded the room, completely flooding your senses as you took him. “Thats it. Good fuckin’ slut, takin’ me like a whore,” Hoodie grunted, snapping you out of your daze. Your body was a slave to the pleasure, addicted to the high only this intruder seemed to give you.

The knot in your stomach tightened, your body shaking as you approached your high. You had never felt this way before, so turned on. You were addicted to the feeling, as if Hoodie had just provided you with the best heroin ever produced. “I feel the way you’re squeezin’ me sweetheart. Go ahead. Make a mess on my cock,” Hoodie ordered. As if on cue your orgasm washed over you, your vision white as your body trembled. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, your vision hazy. You could feel Hoodie’s release, his cum painting the skin of your ass. Through your hazy vision you noticed white stains on your couch, a few inches away from your head. In confusion you raised an eyebrow, unsure if through the dancing stars you were seeing things correctly.

Before you could question it too much Hoodie scooped you up bridal style, carrying you away from the couch. He swiftly kicked open your bathroom door, sitting you in the tub and undressing you. “Should I ask why you know where my bathroom is?” You asked softly, your body spent. Hoodie chuckled, tossing your night gown and panties aside. He turned on the faucet, goosebumps covering your skin as the water turned warm. He reached under your sink, searching for something. “For such a know it all I thought you’d know my bubble bath is on the top shelf above the toilet,” You said, your eyes closed with bliss. Your body felt completely relaxed, a hum of satisfaction emerging from your throat as the water began to surround you.

“Such a smart ass. I’ll remember to fix that mouth of yours later,” Hoodie said, grabbing the bubble bath. The comforting smell of lavender filled your nostrils, causing you to smile. “I assume you know that’s my favorite?” You asked. Any other person in any other world would be terrified right now, shaking with fear. Yet you were content. Somehow comforted by your intruders presence. Hoodie dug another cigarette out of his pocket, roughly shoving it in between his lips. “This is always the worst part,” He sighed. You curiously opened your eyes, looking over at him. Bubbles began to rise, coating your skin.

“Why’s that? You afraid to say goodbye?” You asked. Hoodie shook his head, leaning against your bathroom sink. “Yeah, something like that. Restarting this over and over again is borderline torture,” He grumbled. This caught your attention, causing you to shift uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, what?” You questioned. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to not be afraid of him, there’s no telling whether or not he’s insane. “This is the only way The Operator lets me see you. I try to make the best of it really, Masky’s girlfriend didn’t get the same grace you did,” He explained. A mysterious supernatural being flashed in your mind, before quickly fading away as quick as it came. “I guess I can explain it to you just this once, not like you’ll remember anyways,” He said, roughly turning off the faucet. Drips of water droplets hit the water, your heart beginning to race.

“You’re my reward for being an obedient proxy. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes, rinsing and repeating this process. You’re stuck in a time paradox, where you’re be trapped in a loop of this forever. This isn’t even your house, it’s what The Operator made you believe is your house. Most of your memories are altered heavily or just completely erased. You don’t remember our five year relationship, back before I became who I am now.”

Hoodie ignored your reaction, your face twisted in horror as he continued.

“Tomorrow the cycle will start again. I’ll come in, just as I did tonight. You’ll be scared, just as you were tonight. But that sense of deja vu will keep you attracted to me and that’s all I could really ask for,” He sighed. He inhaled another hit of his cigarette, shaking his head. “Each time I kill you, the cycle resets. I bring you to Jack and The Operator, who revive you and wipe your memory. I gotta say though, too much of your memory is staying. He’s gotta fix that or it’s gonna fuck up this whole arrangement,” Hoodie explained. He couldn’t bear to look at your face. You had curled up into a ball in the tub, your knees tucked to your chest.

“B-Brian I don’t-”

The name fell off of your lips before you could process it. You didn’t understand, Hoodie’s eyes widening. He reached back under the sink, grabbing a toaster. He had planted it there the day before, not wanting to keep killing you in such bloody ways. Roughly he shoved it into a nearby outlet, sighing.

“Thats my cue. Dont worry sweetheart, tomorrow you won’t remember anything at all.”

Before you could protest or scream, he carelessly tossed the toaster into the bath. You were now dead once again, your destiny forcing you to be revived time and time again. Maybe Hoodie could find a way around it. Or, maybe he could rely on your deja vu for comfort for as long as he was cursed to live.

[elllisaaa]

ateez as chase atlantic songs

-> pairing : ateez x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.9k words

-> genre : smut, angst, toxic relationships, friends with benefits, exes, enemies

-> warnings : use of 'slut', 'bunny', 'whore', 'good girl', 'brat' & 'bitch', dom&sub dynamics, dirty talk, teasing, creampie, swearing, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessivness, begging, semi-public, sex, rough sex, body worship, praise, oral (m. & f. receiving), deep throating, cum eating, degradation, dry humping, marking, fingering, choking, bondage, edging, handjob, face slapping, hair pulling

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist | 1k event masterlist

KIM HONGJOONG - SWIM

"the water’s getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim."

→ Dating Hongjoong had never been easy. He was always busy, never there when you needed him to, always canceling plans and dates and not putting any effort into your relationship. That was why you broke up with him, that was why you left without any regrets. But one thing you must admit was that the sex with him had always been incredible, the best you’ve ever had. And everytime he called you back because he needed you to unwind some tension, you always came back to him.

“- Just like that, baby, ride me.”

His hands holding your hips and guiding your movements made shivers come alive on your skin, leaving you a trembling and moaning mess on top of him. You couldn’t even count how many times you ended up exactly like that, riding him in his desk chair when he was too stressed by work to go out and find a girl to fuck. Why bother when you were here to give him your pussy whenever he wanted to ?

“- Joong… I’m so close.

- Me too, gonna fill you up, yeah ? Gonna make you mine again.”

You could only moan and throw your head back, pleasure overtaking every one of your senses. There was no feeling left between the two of you, but the sex was too good to give it up. 

“- Fuck, you’re dripping with my cum, look at that.”

Hongjoong scooped up the sticky substance sliding down your thighs, bridging up his fingers to your lips. And you obediently opened up your mouth, licking him clean. 

“- Such a good girl.”

And for him, you always were, because he knew exactly how to please you. 

"probably should’ve fucked on the first night, now i gotta wait for the green light."

→ Since your friend group was still the same as Hongjoong’s, you often ran into him at parties. And even if you knew you would always end the night with him railing you, you loved to play hard to get, to flirt with every other man there to make him mad. It was petty, and it was out of line, but you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help playing with him a little bit. 

“- You think you can do that in front of me ? Acting like a bitch just to get my dick.

- Not my fault you can’t get enough of me.”

He got you pinned against a wall in the hallway, one of his legs slotted between your thighs and pressing against your dampened panties just right. He had that smirk on his face - dangerously attractive.

“- Come on, you know better than to tease me.”

But you didn’t want to surrender this easily, and Hongjoong knew it, gripping your jaw and guiding your lips to his. While he was devouring your mouth, his hands took a hold of your waist, making you grind against his leg. And soon enough, you were moaning in his mouth as if you were in heat. 

“- Just say yes, Y/N.”

You had just enough consciousness left to nod and not let him fuck you where everyone could interrupt you. But truth be told, you might have let him do it if he asked you. You couldn't help but be drawn right back to him every time you saw him. It was like muscle memory, your body remembering how good it felt every time his hand was innocently laying on your waist. And you were completely over him, but not his body. And judging by the looks of the hickeys he loved to leave on your skin, he was not over yours either. 

PARK SEONGHWA - RIGHT HERE

"it’s happening again, well, i don’t give a fuck about your friends, i’m right here."

→ It all started when San introduced you to Seonghwa and his pretty long hair, and his pretty face, and his pretty body. You couldn’t detach your gaze from him, and it seemed like he couldn’t look away from you either. That’s how you ended up in his bed for the first time - but definitely not the last.

“- Seonghwa… People could see us.

- It’s okay, pretty, nobody cares. Just let me kiss you some more.”

And like a magnet, your lips met his again. You could feel his hands roaming all around your body, pushing your dress higher up your thighs so you could fully straddle him. You could feel his hard on pressing against your core every time you shifted a little bit against him, low moans escaping him and crashing against your lips. You couldn’t help the urge to grind against him faster, little whines coming out of your mouth and mingling with his own sounds. 

“- Don’t stop, pretty, you’re doing so good for me.”

His praises that he made sure to whisper with his head buried into your neck made you shiver in his hold, but Seonghwa was already too focused on marking up your skin to care about the fact that you looked so fucked up already, that they were still people around the two of you. 

“-  I wanna fuck you in front of everyone, show them how much of a slut you are for me, show them how perfect you are and that they’ll never make you feel as good as I do.”

The worst part was that it was true, and that you would let him do that if he touched you the right way to make you fold. Except that Seonghwa wanted to keep the view of your bare cunt all for himself, making you scream his name behind closed doors for everyone at the party to hear.

"i’m always ready to go, i’m calling you pick up your phone."

→ “- I can’t Hwa, I’m out with friends right now and you know it. 

- But please, lovely, I really want to see you, I need you.”

You bit your lips as you looked around the bar, seeing all your friends laughing and having fun, but all you could think about was Seonghwa and the last time he made you feel good. So you sent a single message to your best friend, and you left. 

“- Just thinking about you going out dressed like this… It’s driving me crazy, you’re driving me crazy, baby.”

But right now, he was the one driving you insane with the way his fingers moved inside of you, with the way his tongue was playing with your clit. It was always like that, and both of you loved it. You made each other go mad. He was jealous when he shouldn’t be, and you were possessive when you had no right to be. 

“- Please, Hwa…

- Gonna make you cum on my tongue first, yeah ? And then I’ll fuck you like you want to.”

You nodded and let yourself go to the feeling, your hands dipping in his hair and tugging on his black strands as if you wanted to push him even closer to you. And when he finally let you feel his cock, it was his hands that were lost in your hair, as if he needed something to ground himself in reality. 

“- You’re making me lose my mind, always here everytime I call you… You always come back to me, right ?

- Yes ! Yes, you’re the only one I need.”

You shouldn’t say that, and Seonghwa shouldn’t love hearing those words so much, he shouldn’t fuck you harder everytime you begged him for more only because your voice was as sweet as honey, only because your scent was intoxicating and invading all his sense. Because everytime you called, he was right here too, and everytime you needed him, he was ready to run to you anytime - even if he shouldn’t, because you weren’t his, and he wasn’t yours. 

JEONG YUNHO - SLOW DOWN

"she said “fuck me like i’m famous”, i said “okay”."

→ It wasn’t Yunho’s type to do this. Usually, he would go back to their hotel and let the other members go out and fool around with as many girls as they wanted. But you were different. It sounded so fucking cliché in his head, but it was the truth. There was something in the way you looked at him, something in the way you were behaving that attracted him to you like a magnet. 

“- I didn’t think you'd be the one taking me home tonight.

- Just because I don’t end up with a different girl every night it doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to recognize a pretty girl when I see one.”

And he did show you how beautiful he thought you were when he got you pinned against the wall of the elevator, hands groping your ass shamelessly while he was devouring your mouth. Maybe that was why he never fucked his fans after all - maybe it was because he was a sex god and that they’ll never get over him. 

“- Yunho… 

- Got you wet already, baby ? How are you gonna handle me when I’ll fuck you for real ?”

And he pressed his body against yours, making you feel his big cock through your clothes. The surprise on your face was evident, and Yunho grinned as he unfastened his belt slowly. 

“- You still want it pretty girl ?”

And you did. You showed him how much you wanted it when you got down on your knees to take him in your mouth as he looked down on you, finding it so cute to see you try to control your gag reflex. However, Yunho made sure to reward you by fucking you on every surface available of your apartment. He definitely was a sex god.

"you’re buried in the pillow, yeah, you’re so loud, but i’m about to show you baby, slow down."

→ When he asked you to leave him your number in case he came back to your city, you didn’t think that Yunho would actually text you. However, you sometimes received little messages when he saw something beautiful (“just like you”, he added every time). So in the end, you weren’t surprised when he mentioned that he was in town for a few days, and that he wanted to see you. 

“- Don’t rush, baby, I want to take my time with you.”

It felt awfully good to hear his voice whispering dirty words in ears again, but it felt too good to stop. You didn’t want to become one of his crazy groupies, but you had to admit that you missed him, that you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

“- Still the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Gonna let me eat it ?”

And how could you have said no to that ? You let Yunho do everything he wanted, let him worship your body as if you were a Greek goddess. By the time he finally got you on all fours, his big cock sitting deep inside of you, you were already a moaning mess, only able to remember his name, your brain too foggy to think about anything else. 

“- You’re so loud, baby, want everyone to hear that you’re a slut for me ?”

You shook your head, not ready to let the world know that you were in fact a whore for him.

“- Then fucking take it and shut your pretty mouth.”

One of his hands was pushing your head into the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure every time his tip was kissing your cervix. And he didn’t want you to see the effect you had on him, he didn’t want to admit that you had been on his mind since the last time. You didn’t need to know that you were his favorite fan. 

KANG YEOSANG - INTO IT

"she don’t really like it but she needs me, yeah, she saying she don’t really miss me."

→ “- You’re so fucking childish, Y/N. I don’t even want to argue with you anymore.

- Just say you’re a coward and that you’re afraid of me.”

Yeosang only showed you his middle finger as he turned to leave the room. You let out an exasperated sigh as you took a sip of your coffee. Everytime you were having a good time, he had to ruin it all by his mere presence, and what was supposed to be a calm afternoon at the café with your friends turned into another rambling session about the guy you just couldn’t stand. 

“- Remind me what you were saying again ? That’s right, that I’m a coward ? But do you see yourself now, can’t even look me in the eyes because I’m fucking you too good.”

You wanted to deny, to say he was wrong. But deep inside, you knew he was right. You knew you were losing all your senses as soon as he got you alone, as soon as he got his hands on you. 

“- Yeo, it’s not… Shit ! You know I have to…

- Need to pretend in front of your friends that you’re not a slut for me ? Too ashamed that the poor guy has the richest girl of the college on her knees, right ?”

And he was too close to the truth for you to try and contradict him this time. If they all knew what you let him do to you behind closed doors when you were constantly talking behind his back everyday, they would ruin your reputation and your chances to take over your father’s company one day. 

“- You’re so fucking greedy for my cock.”

You were, you didn’t like it, but you were, to the point that you didn’t care about your future as long as you had him in your bed. 

"say she wanna fuck me latter, girl, i’m into it."

→ “- You’re coming tonight, right ?

- Maybe. I’ll text you later.”

It pained him a little to be so cold with you sometimes, but he had to play hard to get if he didn’t want to lose himself in you completely. Yeosang was aware that your relationship - if you could even call it like that - wasn’t made to last. He was from the middle class and you were rich, and even if he didn’t like these stereotypes, there was no way that you would stop being embarrassed of him one day, there was no way that he could be a part of your world one day.

“- You missed me, uh ? That’s why you always end up calling.

- Yes, always need you Yeo.”

But in the end, he was always back to you, back to the expensive sorority you were staying at, back to these parties he never fitted in. But you were here. 

“- That’s right, you love it when I call you a slut. What would everybody think of you if they knew that you beg for my cock every night ?”

You didn’t want him to reveal the truth about you, but at the same time, you wanted it so bad. Maybe you could live with him, maybe it could be your happy end. And maybe they would think he had corrupted you, but you were into it, and you were into him. But you were not ready to leave your golden cage just yet. 

CHOI SAN - OHMAMI

"telling your friends you hate me but i know you can’t get enough."

→ You couldn’t stand the way he was ogling you like he owned you, and you couldn’t stand the way he glared at every guy approaching as if he had any right over you and your body when he didn’t. He never had any power over you, and you would never let him gain some. Or at least, that’s what you tried to convince everyone of, including yourself. 

“- What are you doing here San ?

- Don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart. We both know what we're here for.

- Go away ! I don’t want to have anything to do with you.”

But the way your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer to you was betraying you, and you knew he was aware of the state he was putting you in. You wanted to make him drop his annoying smirk, and you wanted to make him regret everything he ever did to you. Maybe that was why you kissed him first. Maybe that was why you forced your tongue in his mouth even when he was trying to get you off of him. 

“- What do you think you’re doing Y/N ?

- Exactly what you wanted, Sannie.”

The surname sounded horribly good coming from you, and San didn’t want to see the smug look on your face anymore. So even if he was disgusted by your existence, he kissed you again, and again, and again, until you couldn’t think anymore, alcohol and lust both clouding your mind. 

“- And what now ? You’re gonna fuck me ?

- Maybe I should. 

- Yeah, maybe you should.”

"i bent the corner then she bent it for me sidways, might have to fuck her on the highway, yeah."

→ Every party San was there was a torture. You remembered every detail of his lips against yours when all you wanted was to forget about it. When your eyes crossed his, it was as if you could still feel your hands tugging on his hair, and his fingers slipping past the hem of your skimpy dress. Everytime your mind drifted back to these memories, you felt on the verge of throwing up. But your only way to relieve your stress was through him, sadly.

“- Didn’t think you would be back to me so soon, sweetheart. 

- Don’t play dumb, San. You know I’m just here because you got some good weed. 

- Come with me, I left it in my car.”

You were suspicious, but you really needed a good smoking session and he was the only one that could offer you that right now. So you followed him, and you didn’t think further when he asked you if you wanted him to roll you a joint right now. You must have to be a little more considerate next time if you didn't want to end up riding San in his car. 

“- Always knew you were slut, I should’ve given you my dick sooner.”

You wanted to throw back a clever answer at him, but only a moan escaped your mouth. The car was moving along with every one of his thrusts into your pussy, and the windows were so fogged up, there was no way people didn’t know what was going on.

“- Can’t get enough of me, uh ?

- Don’t get so full of yourself, I doubt you can make me cum.”

His condescending laugh as he wrapped a hand around your throat made you shiver. And maybe you should get out and never see him again, but it was all so disgustingly good. 

“- Oh, but I’m not the one who will end up full, Y/N. You think I’m letting you go before giving you a little souvenir ? You’re gonna take it all, and think about it for days after I’ve forgotten about the way you taste.”

It was a lie, he was equally as obsessed with you. But the desire he was feeling for you was unmistakable, even if it made him sick to admit it. 

SONG MINGI - FRIENDS

"just tell me what you’re doing with that other guy ‘cause i ain’t got patience to slow down the pace."

�� Mingi always stuck to looking at you from afar, to only being your best friend. Even if you made out with him a few times, even if he had eaten you out on numerous occasions when your dates couldn’t even make you cum. Even with that, he was still your best friend, and he shouldn’t feel jealous of the guy you were drunkenly grinding against. 

“- Mingi ! Why don’t you come and dance with me ?”

And he could never deny you anything. So he said yes, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you as close to him as possible. Your eyes were glazed by all the alcohol you drank, but that still didn’t stop you from noticing the way Mingi was shamelessly staring at your lips. 

“- You want to kiss me ?

- You know I’ll always say yes.”

So you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and you let him slip his tongue into your mouth, and let his hands push you closer to his body. Everytime your lips touched his, Mingi couldn’t help thinking about how good you were tasting, about how well you were fitting in his arms. 

“- You’re taking me home tonight ?

- Thought you wanted to go back to this guy’s place.

- No, I always want you in the end.”

The sincerity pouring from your words made his heart beat faster, and that same night when you were laying in his bed and he was balls deep inside of you, it finally felt perfect - from the way you were moaning his name to the clench of your cunt around him.

"what the hell were we ? tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense." 

→ “- You can’t come and ruin every one of my dates, Mingi !

- Yeah ? But who do you come to when they don’t know your body like I do ? And who do you come crying to when they leave you alone and I have to pick you up ? I’m always here when you need me, can’t you see that ?”

Flames were burning in your best friend’s eyes like never before, and you could only blame yourself and your inability to face the truth, to admit your own feelings. 

“- We're just friends ! You have no right over me.

- Do you really think friends make out the way we do, Y/N ? Do you think friends know that you like to be called a slut ? Do you think friends know how to fuck you the way I do ?”

You didn’t realize how close he had gotten, too entranced by the way he was looking at you as if he wanted to eat you. And you knew he was right, you knew that you shouldn’t be friends with him after all that happened, but the “what if”’s always scared you enough to chicken out. 

“- Then what do you want ?

- You.”

It was as simple as that, and Mingi made sure to prove it to you when he repeated these three words through the night, these three words he was dying to tell you for years. And he made sure that you knew no one could ever make you cum as hard as he did, and he made sure that you knew no one could ever compare to him, because who could understand you better than your friend ?

JUNG WOOYOUNG - MEDDLE ABOUT

"now if i could figure it out, i’d take you back to my house so we could meddle about"

→ Your eyes were shining under the club's lights, and Wooyoung couldn't help but hold your gaze for longer than he should everytime they crossed, because there was just something about you that he couldn’t get enough of. He never saw you before that night, but he knew that he wanted to have you as soon as he laid his eyes on you. 

“- Can I offer you another drink ?”

You looked up at him with a slight grin on your face, because you weren’t blind - you noticed how he was staring at you all night, and you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t checked him out too.

“- What for ?

- Because you’re a pretty girl. Do I need another reason ?

- Depends. But since you’re quite handsome yourself, I’ll say yes.”

That was how it all started, and you quickly forgot about your friends you came to the bar with and spent the whole night talking with him instead. You didn’t think you would click with him past physical attraction, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up either. And as time and drinks passed, Wooyoung got more and more touchy, his hands landing on your thighs, on your waist, rubbing circles against the exposed skin of your sides due to your skimpy dress. 

“- Wanna end the night at mine ?

- I don’t come back to the guys’ places on the first night, Woo.

- Doesn’t mean I can’t fuck you somewhere else.”

And you obviously couldn’t argue with such a logic - and maybe that you wanted him too much to say no. That was how you ended up riding him in the backseat of his car, head thrown back in bliss and his hands guiding your hips in a rhythm that had you losing your mind so easily. 

"you got me down on my knees, it’s getting harder to breathe out."

→ “- Please, baby, don’t make me wait.

- But I think you deserved it, don’t you ?”

You had been teasing him for far too long for him to even remember when you started stroking his cock and taking him into your mouth. His hands were closed in fists, trying to ground himself in reality even if he was slowly losing his mind with the way you had tied him up, forbidding him from touching you. 

“- Come one, don’t be a brat.”

Your hand coming down to slap his face had him moaning embarrassingly loud, the way he was pounding into you and making you cry last weekend long forgotten. 

“- You’re the one doing everything to get on my nerves, baby. Acting like a slut and flirting with anyone just to get my attention, right ?”

Wooyoung wanted to deny it, but it was the truth. Whenever you didn’t give him all your time, he was willing to do everything it took to earn it back, even if it meant that you were going to edge him for hours and hours. 

“- You’re such a dumb whore, it’s pathetic.

- Let me cum, please, please, I need it.”

It only took another “slut” whispered right against the skin of his neck for the boy to let go and cover your hand in his sticky release. Even if he knew he wasn’t your only one, Wooyoung couldn’t help coming back to you every time, because he couldn’t stop thinking about you - one word from you, and he was on his knees. And it was indeed pathetic, but he couldn’t care less when you felt so divine. 

CHOI JONGHO - CHURCH

"stay on the ground ‘till your knees hurt, no more praying baby, i’ma be your preacher."

→ When you first met Jongho, you thought of him as a sweet guy, always so caring and gentle despite being sometimes shy and a little quiet around you. And even when you started going out together, he was always so cute and gentle - holding the door for you, walking you home and gifting you flowers. 

“- You better quit the attitude and behave if you want to cum at all tonight, bunny.”

But now that he got you down on your knees, hands tied down behind your back, and forcing his cock down your throat because you had teased him earlier that day, your views of him completely changed. And honestly, you liked it like that, as if the moans you were letting out around him weren’t enough of a hint.

“- That’s more like it, doesn’t it feel good to listen to me, sweetheart ?”

You nodded as best as you could, with saliva dripping down your chin and tears running down your cheeks. It made sense with the pool of arousal in your underwear, though. You knew that obeying to your boyfriend meant a delicious reward in the end. 

“- Such a good girl when you want to, gonna make me cum. You’re gonna swallow it all, uh ?”

You didn’t even need to answer that because you always did, never wasting a drop and maintaining that eye contact as Jongho released down your throat, groaning lowly at the sinful sight you offered him. He would never admit it, but you being a little brat had its perks as it gave him an excuse to punish you and play with you in any ways he wished. 

"baptize in your thighs ‘till it hurts, ‘cause i’m about to take you back to church."

→ “- You’re so needy bunny, what’s gotten into you.

- It’s the suit, you look too good.”

The little smirk on Jongho’s face as he pushed you down on the bed was as annoying as it was turning you on. Whenever you where in the audience at an award show and he wore these fucking suits, it got you all worked up and you could barely hold back from jumping his bones until you were home.

“- I’ll never understand why when you literally see me naked all the time.

- Just accept that you are handsome as hell and fuck me.”

You yelped as he flipped you over easily and put you on your knees, bent down into the pillows - so easily that it did nothing to help with your growing need to feel him into you. 

“- Watch your mouth, bunny. You don’t want to make me mad now.”

You shook your head and Jongho slapped your ass as a reward. And when you felt him eagerly sliding your dress past your hips and only pushing your panties to the side before he filled you up, you knew that he had craved this all night too. 

“- Always so tight and wet for me.

- Just for you.”

And he certainly reminded you of that as he ruined you that night, making you cry and scream his name, making your knees buckle and your scalp hurt from his fingers pulling at your hair, making you lose your sanity and cum like no one had before. Because Jongho was the sweetest boyfriend ever, but he was also the meanest when it came to the bedroom, and that duality would probably be the death of you.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

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[sleepyparalysisdmon]

Ruby

The three times Jihoon tries to confess through lyrics and the one where you finally get it.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none that I can think of, just some fluff

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reactions.

One

You punch in the code to the door like it’s an old habit, mostly because it is. Jihoon doesn’t turn to you right away and you know better than to distract him in the middle of something. You sit the takeout bags on the table and plop down on the couch in the corner. Your couch, to be exact. He doesn’t often have visitors just hang out in here with him while he’s working, but you’ve long insisted this might be the only way to see your best friend sometimes. You assume he agreed because a small sofa just appeared here one day along with a couple fuzzy blankets. 

“Hey,” he finally greets. “What’s for dinner?” 

“Is that all I’m good for?” You tease as he comes to sit next to you. “Just some Chinese take out from the place down the street. I hope that’s okay.” 

Jihoon shrugs, digging in as soon as he can. “Doesn’t matter. I’m too starving to care.”

“How’s the song going?” You ask, not expecting much. He can be really hot and cold about sharing his stuff with you before he feels like it’s perfect, so sometimes a non-committal ‘okay’ is all you get. 

Today must be a good day, because he’s gesturing for the both of you to move to the desk. “It’s missing something and I can’t quite put a finger on what.” He hits a few buttons and lets you listen. Everything about it has you smiling, much like it always does. 

You can’t help but tease him when the song ends and he asks what you think. “Jihoon, are you in love?” It’s not a new jab and he shoves you by the shoulder hard, making you laugh. “I’m kidding. Let me hear the chorus again.” He rolls it back and replays it for you. You recommend a few tweaks and when he makes them and replays the part, he sighs in relief.

“Are we done for the day now?” You chuckle, and it turns to a full blown laugh when he scoffs.

“Do you know how long it takes to prepare an album, Y/N? I hope you brought some entertainment.”

“You think this is my first day being your friend? Please,” you roll your eyes, pointing to the backpack you brought with you. “You’re stuck with me.”

You know he’d send you away if he didn’t like that. He lets you stay until you’re barely keeping your eyes open before he finally packs his things up and drives you home.

Two

A red notebook lands in your lap. It’s unfamiliar, only because the last one Jihoon handed you was blue. “Ran out of room?” You say as he spins back around in his chair. 

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Read the last entry, nothing else.” You do. You’d never overstep how much he’s willing to share, so you’re careful not to linger on pages that you aren’t invited to look at. 

“What am I looking for?” You ask, skimming the page. It’s chaotic, notes in the margins, lines crossing out certain things that he’s rejected. Some writing is squished between lines and you have to squint to read it.

“It’s not flowing in my mind the way I want it to. I want a second opinion.”

Like you’d ever turn down that opportunity. You pull out a pencil, because you’d never permanently mark up these ideas. What you think about it is only a suggestion - one that can be erased. You make some notes, rereading, trying to grasp the vision that he has for the song. You aren’t a musician but you do have a good idea of how his mind works. 

When you hand it back, he doesn’t look at your notes right away, pinning you with a look. “Well?”

“Romantic as ever. One of these days you’ll make such a sweet boyfriend.” 

He snorts, skimming through what you’ve marked up. “Yeah, right. Explain to me what you did here.” 

You plop into the seat next to him. You’re touched that he involves you in his work like this. That he’s willing to hear what you think when you’re so far from being an expert. He’s never shot down your ideas, even if he doesn’t end up using all of them. He still wants it to feel like ‘his’. 

Today’s a good day and most of the pencil marks stay in place. He even teases you about giving you some song writing credits. He knows you’d never accept them, but he likes seeing both his and your marks on the page working together. 

Three

Today is not a good day. Due to some unforeseen circumstances, they’ve lost some work and have had to re-record some parts. You’re surprised when you arrive to his studio and it’s packed. You fade into the corner as to not be in the way. You watch Jihoon obsessively save copies of files in various spots and when everyone else wishes you both good night to go home, you give him a minute to collect himself. 

“How can I help?” You finally say. You watch his shoulders tense and it makes you sad. “Would you like me to go? Give you some space to work?” He shakes his head and you finally approach him, sitting next to him. You rub his back lightly. “What do you have left to do?” 

“Rearrange everything so someone can look at it tomorrow. It’s not usually my specialty, but I have to have something to give them to work with.” He looks like he might pull his hair out so you gently turn his chair. 

“Come on,” you say, opening your arms to him. You know he’s not the most physically affectionate person, but it won’t stop you from offering some comfort. To your surprise, he barely hesitates, arms coming around you too. When you feel like he’s lost some of the tension in his body, you let go. “Get started. I’ll go make some coffee.” 

You miss the way he turns to watch you leave. He doesn’t know how to say thank you for your presence on days like today. 

Four

The comeback is over and so are the promotions for it. It’s been many, many weeks since you’ve seen your best friend, and this time, it’s amazingly not at his work. He lets himself into your apartment and plops down on the couch next to you. You’ve planned a lazy day of just lying around and relaxing. You’ve sworn off work as a thing to so much as discuss today, so you glare at him when see the flash of a red notebook come out of his backpack. 

“Lee Jihoon, I told you no work today,” you admonish. 

He doesn’t listen to you. He never does. “Y/N, I may not show up to work every single day, but I’m probably going to write every single day.” 

He’s right, of course. Sometimes it just pours out of him into these notebooks, like the one he’s handing you. “What am I looking for?” You ask with a huff.

“Last entry,” he says. It’s almost always the last entry, but you don’t want to go blindly flipping through his private thoughts. You find it and this sheet is actually pretty clean, with very little notes in the margins or lines crossed out. You can’t help but smile, just like you always do when he shares something like this with you. 

“One of these days you’ll tell me who these songs are about,” you muse. 

He groans and the sound surprises you. He usually rolls his eyes and asks what you think, but this time, he looks like he’s almost in pain. “I’m in love with an idiot,” he mumbles, hand rubbing down his face.

“That’s no way to talk about the love of your life!” You cry out. “You write all of these sweet songs for her and you call her an idiot?”

“I’m talking about you, Y/N. You’re the idiot.”

Your mouth pops open. “Oh.” 

He rolls his eyes, snatching back the notebook, tossing it onto your coffee table. “They’ve always been about you, every single notebook over the years. You can’t be that dense.”

You barely hear the insult because you’re thinking of all the various notebooks he’s handed you over the years, only small portions of which he’s let you read. “All of them?” You whisper.

He sighs. “I’m sorry.” 

You pout at him, not that he’s looking at you. He’s leaning back into the couch, arms crossed over his chest. You understand why he’s apologizing, but there’s really no need. “You didn’t ask me what I think of the lyrics.”

He hesitates, glancing out of the corner of his eye at you. Finally, he clears his throat. “What did you think of the lyrics?” 

You lean forward, pressing a light, lingering kiss to his lips. You hear his breath catch and the sound is just as sweet as the contents of all his notebooks. “I loved it, just like every other page you’ve ever let me read.” 

“I’ll bring over the rest tomorrow. They’re all about you anyway.” He says it so simply that you can’t help but fling your arms around him. He calls you an idiot again but he’s laughing regardless.

[fushigur0ll]

FOCUS, MILES

꒰ ♡ ꒱ — you are trying to make miles study for his upcoming test but he couldn’t help it and be distracted because of you

includes: curse words, kissing, cuddles, procrastination from miles and fluff as usual.

“miles, baby come on let’s study then we can go lay down peacefully” you giggle as he playfully blows raspberries on your neck, causing you to squirm and kick your feet. you’re ticklish and that’s something miles keeps engraved in his brain along with the thousands of things he knows and loves about you. whenever you’re upset? you’re gonna get tickled till you’re smiling again. you frustrated? tickles. you can even be happy! and he’s tickling you because he loves seeing you show your beautiful smile.

“don’t wanna” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and pinning you down so you can't escape. "Is this the procrastination miles talking right now?" you gasp, feigning shock as you surrender and run your fingers through his hair. he purrs and enjoys the knots untying in his head, getting more comfortable onto your body.

“why don’t you wanna study with me?” you ask softly, looking down to stare at his curls. he lifts his head up and lays his chin on your chest to stare back at you with a soft look.

“because you’re my distraction”

“…that was hella corny babe, i’m sorry” you snort and then you both start dying of laughter. you hugged him tightly as you giggled and he laughs stuffing his face back into your neck.

“it’s the truth though” he smiles and stares back at you again. he cups your cheek and leans up to peck your lips”

“stop before i throw myself out the window” you cover your face and he laughs again. he gently removes your hands and scoops you up, bringing you to sit on his lap at his desk.

“even when you are my distraction, you’re my best motivation” he whispers, wrapping his arms around your waist with his chin on your shoulder. you can't help but smile at his sweetness and turn your head to kiss his cheek. “i love your corny flirting” you whisper back and he shakes his head with a smile on his face.

Miles chuckles and gives you a squeeze. "I know you do," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before picking up his pencil and getting back to work…but it wasn’t even a milisecond before he puts the pencil down and sighs harshly

“can we just- miles” you glance at him with a tone of warning and he just slumps into his seat, his face squishing into the back of your neck.

“i just wanna lay with you please” he fusses, picking you up again as he stands up and throws you to the bed, watching you bounce lightly on it.

“i can never win with you can i?” you sit up, shaking you head but welcoming him with open arms and he gladly tackles you back down to the bed, getting comfortable once more.

“no” he smiles and sighs softly. you nod and kiss his cheek, relaxing with him. you both gazed out the window into the bustling city of brooklyn. the room was cozy and warm, with soft blankets and pillows strewn about, creating a haven from the outside world. as you both cuddled, you could hear the sounds of the city outside, from the honking of cars to the distant chatter of people on the streets. the view from the window was breathtaking, with the city skyline towering in the distance and the sun setting behind it, casting a warm glow over everything.

“what if we get married” he blurts out so softly that you almost couldn’t have heard him in the moment. you freeze and you glance down at your boyfriend in surprise. “where did this though come from?” you inquire, pretty curious on what made him say that out of the blue.

“miles, baby, we haven’t even finished highschool yet” you smile and start rubbing his ear softly, a small habit you picked up from cuddling with him.

“i know but..i do love you and i know you love me” he hums and you raise a playful eyebrow. “and how do you know that” his face drops at your response and gets a pillow to cover your face. your muffled laugh fills the room and he takes off the pillow to just stare at you with a deadpanned look. “i’m kidding baby, i am, i am” you smile and cup his soft cheeks, bringing his face closer to kiss him. he couldn’t help it but smile against your lips, kissing you back.

“i’ll get you a promise ring” he mumbles, pecking them once more to cup your face in his large hands. “a promise ring that should never ever be taken off at any circumstances” he smiles and rubs his thumb under your eyes. “a promise ring that i will pray every love and hope i have for us into it” he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there.

As you listen to miles speak, you can't help but feel like you're in a dream. you feel a deep connection with him, and the thought of spending the rest of your life with him fills you with excitement and joy. the promise ring he speaks of is not just a piece of jewelry, but a symbol of his commitment to you, your future together and he makes it known to you and the world of he wanted to. the thought of wearing it on your finger fills you with a sense of pride and belonging. With every millisecond that passed by in this current moment, you find yourself falling deeper in love with him. The way he looks at you, the sound of his voice, and the warmth of his touch all make you feel like you are the luckiest person in the world.

“..baby?” he rubs your arms “you okay?”

you shake out of your train of thoughts, focusing back on miles again who looked concerned. “yeah? oh sorry, i was just lost in thought” you smile softly.

“what we’re you thinking about?” he asks, lazily wrapping his arms around your waist again.

You take a deep breath before answering, wanting to express your feelings as best as you can. "I was just thinking about how much I love you, Miles. And how grateful I am to have you in my life”

Miles' eyes soften as he looks at you, his grip on your waist tightening. "i’m happy you feel the same exact way how i feel..even when i think my feelings are more stronger then yours” he chuckles “you do make me excited to wake up in the morning and be greatful that i have a family that loves me and a girlfriend right by my side”

you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you just stare at him. “you’re supposed to be doing homework” you laugh tearfully. he laughs with you and wipes yours eyes gently.

“always wanna be an ass about my homework” he grumbles, pulling on your cheek and you scrunch your face.

“mm and this ass that’s always on your ass, loves you” you make a dramatic kissing noise as you kiss his lips and he laughs, pulling you back in to kiss you again, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

“luckily, my ass loves you more” he hums, and pulls you into another warm hug again just to enjoy one another’s warmth and presence

fushigur0ll © 2022 all rights reserved. do not plagarize, translate, or post to other sites please.

NOTE- um it keeps seeing that there is requests but when i look it ain’t THERE😭 so i think it’s fixed now because i tried everything so sorry for those who had requests because it’s deadass not there anymore 🙁 but other then that i’m open to requests!! i need more stuff to write

[skulla-rxcks]

𝑾𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒍 ☆

Paring: Stalker!chan x afab reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: !extremely dubious, piv, unprotected, stalking & yandere

Day 10 of ktober

Taglist: @f3lix00 @channiesgoodgirl @mal-lunar-28 @bangchans-gf5 @fun-fanfics @iwannabangchan @linosluver

Please dm me or use my inbox if you’d like to be added to the taglist ^^

!THIS IS PURE FICTION, NOTHING IN THIS IS REAL ITS JUST A STORY!

He’s been watching you for so long and somehow you haven’t noticed.

You haven’t noticed at all; how he follows you home after work everyday, how he sneaks in your house every night and steals your panties before going home and wrapping his hand around his cock with your underwear held to his nose as he sniffs it, getting off to your scent.

He loves you, he’s obsessed with you. But you don’t realise it so tonight is the night he will show you.

——————————————-

I lay down in my bed after a rough day at work, completely exhausted and ready to close my eyes and to sink into the comfort of my bed. I grab my phone and message my friends’ group chat saying goodnight before plugging my phone in to charge. It doesn’t take me long for sleep to claim me, but just before I slip into slumber I notice that I forgot my headphones on my desk - but who cares I’m tired and I should rest.

As I drift off into dream land, I hear someone knocking on my window. At first I think it must be one of my friends but why would they knock on my window instead of just ringing the doorbell? I open my blinds to see who’s there, It’s a man, he looks around mid twenties. I don’t know who he is but he seems and looks familiar. I open the window sightly to talk to him. “let me in” he says sternly. “I don’t even know who you are..!”

I say trying to back away from him. He lunges forward, opening my window jumping inside and pinning me against the wall, holding me captive. His fingers wrap around my throat. I pull at his hand desperately trying to get it loose, tears welling up in my eyes. “Please don’t kill me” I choke out “I just want to talk.” he sighs, letting go of me. “What do you want to talk about?” I ask as I wipe my face dry. “You tell me” he says, sitting next to me on the bed. “Who are you?” I ask once again. “Chan, I work with you. but that doesn’t matter right now. i love you.” he whispers. I start to panic and push myself back against the wall. “Why.. why are you doing this?” I say, starting to sob. He reaches forward, grabbing my chin gently forcing me to look directly into his face. “No. You don’t get to run away this time.” he replies.

“how did you not notice all the times I sneaked into your house and stole your underwear?” Chan scoofs. I try to ignore him but his presence is making me uncomfortable. “Stop staring at me. Please” I beg. He grabs my neck forcing me to make eye contact with him. “i’ve waited long enough” he says softly, caressing my face. “you’re mine, don’t you dare try to escape.” he breathes. Before I can reply, his lips crash down on mine, forcing our lips together. “Don’t you want to be mine?” he growls into my mouth, kissing me harder. My hands reach behind him and grab ahold of his hair, gripping it tightly and tugging on it. He releases his grip on my neck to grab hold of my wrists, tying them up above my head. “please… stop..” I moan trying to move him off of me. His lips leave mine, letting me breathe.

“stop trying to fight me” he growls lowly in my ear. “i love you.” he whispers again, kissing my cheek. “You need to understand that you are my everything. You are my only reason to live.” he breathes again in my ear. My eyes widen in fear, tears threatening to spill over. “I don’t understand” I croak out. His grip tightens around my wrists, causing me to gasp in pain. “you’re my only hope, darling. You have always been my only hope.” he whispers again, his voice filled with a hint of venom.

His mouth travels down to my chest, lifting up my shirt and bra revealing my breasts, he sucks hard on my nipples making me shudder, still fairly uncomfortable but wanting to please this strange man. “Tell me what you want” he pants out as he continues to suckle on my tits. I nod my head slowly, unable to speak. “Say it” he demands, his lips leaving my breasts. “I want you” I blurt out, wanting to please him with my answer, still a big scared. His eyes darken in fury, looking straight at me.

“Good girl. I won’t hurt you.” he breathes, his eyes never leavuping mine as his fingers unzip his jeans. I whimper when he starts to rub himself against me, my eyes widening at what he’s doing. I push his boxers down his thighs; revealing his rock hard dick. He smirks at me, thrusting against me in an attempt to gain some pleasure. I gulp nervously and try to keep my cool while he does this, not wanting him to catch on that I’m terrified of him.

“Do you like the feel of my dick touching you? does it make you wet?” Chan growls. “no… no more ive changed my mind” I whimper, trying to squirm away but he keeps me pinned down underneath him. He tugs my panties and jeans off pushes himself inside of me roughly. “ow..” I groan. He holds me down by pressing his legs against either side of my hips, preventing me from moving. I start crying, feeling vulnerable and trapped under him.

“I’m sorry” he mumbles. “I just want to enjoy this moment with you.” he says, running his hand through my hair. “I love you. ” he whispers softly as he slams deeper and deeper into me, hitting every single space possible inside my pussy. “be mine please y/n.” Chan says As he releases himself inside of me.

[bouncybongfairy]

Stress Relief

Bakugou x Fem Reader

Summary: Aizawa offers you extra credit to tutor Bakugou for an upcoming test. Need I say more?

Word Count: 1.5k+

Ref Account: @kaionyx

TW: Rough Smut, Oral Female & Male Receiving, Facial.

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Sitting in your room and dissociating never felt so good. It was finally the end of the week and you felt properly chewed up and spit out. Muscles were sore and brain was fried, all you wanted to do was sit in silence. Emptying out your backpack and organizing everything on to your desk. The stress you were under was slowly chipping away at you. Hearing a knock at the door made your eyes roll, the last thing you wanted was to interact with anyone. Wiping the scowl off your face, you go to greet the unwanted guest. The feelings of annoyance quickly turned into insecurity once you saw it was Aizawa and Bakugou. Trying to casually fix your appearance as he began speaking in his monotone voice. 

“Hello, sorry I didn’t mean to come to your dorm directly but this is a time sensitive matter. Bakugou needs a passing grade on this next test, I’m willing to bump your grade up 5% if you agree to help,” he explains, making Bakugou’s frown deepen. 

“Oh of course, we can start right now,” you said, practically beaming. Having your grade pushed up five percent was a God sent gift at this point in the semester. 

“Wonderful, Bakugou, please try to be open to the tutoring,” Aizawa said before walking away. 

You gestured for him to come in, made you feel nervous watching him take in the room. All your posters and collectables are now starting to feel a little dorky. Not really sure what to say, you just sat in silence as he took in your room. You were pretty soft spoken and he was anything but that. It often worried you seeing how dark he was. It was so apparent that his anger issues were coming from a deep wound from the past. When all your friends would gossip, they talked about him with such vascularity and objectification was quite sad. As much as you tried to discourage this, there were times you agreed. The intimidating look he always had written across his face. The way his pent up rage came out during combat training. 

It frustrated you knowing that he could overpower you. Any time you were paired to spar, he always managed to out maneuver you. Pinning you to the ground or wall. As much as it affected the confidence you had in your combat abilities, it made you feel warm and fuzzy. The last time the two of you were sparing, he grabbed your forearm so hard it left a bruise in the shape of his hand. You stared at it in the mirror for a while, confused why you liked it so much. Running your fingertips over the purple and brown blotches. Thinking about the way he looked into your eyes when throwing you to the ground. Walking away with no care or regard for you physically or mentally. It made you melt even though you’d never admit it. The two of you were sitting at your desk, helping him with his English assignment; he was getting frustrated and you were enjoying it a little too much.

“That just doesn’t make any fucking sense. The assignment was to summarize the fucking article. I don’t have to talk about my feelings about it, it’s not even specified!” he said, raising his voice. 

“I could understand you don’t want to give your opinion on it but the teacher isn’t going to accept it until you do. You’re being ridiculous,” you huffed the last part under your breath. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, folding his arms. 

“Nothing, i’m just saying the assignment-” you started but became interrupted. 

“No, go on. Explain why I’m ridiculous, I wanna hear you say it,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding his teeth. 

“You are ridiculous. Are you so ignorant that you don’t understand how lazy you are? You act like academics is optional and that you can rely solely on your combat. Nobody else will, so I'll be the first to tell you: Thinking physical prowess will get you where you wanna be is stupid and delusional,” you say, starting to pack his papers up. 

“If anyone is stupid and delusional it’s you, we both know the real reason you accepted this little study session,” he scoffs standing up. 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, knowing exactly what he was implying. 

“Do you think I don’t notice you staring at me? Finding any opportunity to throw yourself at me. I can only imagine what runs through your head while you watch me. I have an idea by the way your cheeks flush and your pupils get wide. The way your body shakes when we spar. It’s stupid and delusional for you to think I'd ever want anything more than your body,” he said, now backing you against the wall.

You weren’t sure what to think, part of you felt like this was him showing his interest in you. Another part of you was worried he was just being cruel. Like he was stringing you along, trying to make you look desperate just to pull away.

“Interesting way to say you want my body, if you wanted me that bad you could just ask,” you patronize. 

“I wouldn’t have too,” he said, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you against the desk. 

You were now halfway sitting on the edge of the desk. Legs dangling off, separated by him grinding against you. Letting go of your hair, holding your face in his hands. The kiss was sloppy and wet, not being able to get enough of each other’s touch. You reached down and ran your hands up his back towards his shoulder. Lightly scratching down as he started kissing your neck. Nipping and sucking hickies on you, his heavy breathing giving your body goosebumps. Your hands begin to wander, fingers dipping into the back of his pants. Tracing all the way around, stopping when you felt his happy trail. He sits back on the office chair and stares you down. This makes you blush, sliding off  and onto your knees. Your body was slightly under the desk, he took your glasses off and set them down.. 

Genuinely being gentle, which made you feel more safe to be vulnerable and vulgar. Taking his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around him. He moaned softly as he collected your hair in his hand. Using the other to stroke your cheek and face. Eventually you start bobbing your head up and down. Looking up and watching his reaction, he huffs and grunts that pour out of his mouth. His eyebrows furrowed together and sweat started to bead on his forehead. Feeling him get harder and harder as things started getting more sloppy. His hands were getting rougher, both of them now laced in your hair. Helping fuck your head down on his shaft faster. Cursing and moaning, starting to buck his hips. Making you gag around and spit around his cock. He pulls you by the hair off him with a loud pop sound. Grabbing himself to smack and rub his tip against your lips as he tips over the edge. Covering your mouth and chin with his cum. 

Expecting him to be done but being taken off guard when he grabs your jaw. Bringing you to his level and smashes his lips against yours. Moaning into the kiss, being taken completely by surprise from how brazen he was being. He pulls away, a mix of saliva and his cum dripping down both your mouths. Standing up, he grabs your waist and lifts you on the desk. Sitting back down and spreading your legs, using his fingers to massage your clit. Moving down and eventually pushing a finger inside you. Bringing his lips down and starting to eat you out. Flicking his tongue, moaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers. Increasing the speed of both his hands and mouth. Stroking himself off, seeing you in so much pleasure was making his cock feel touch starved. Reaching your hands down and pulling and yanking. His hair was sweaty and you could feel him breathing hard against your core. 

You tried holding back your orgasm as long as possible, wanting to enjoy the pleasure before becoming overly sensitive. He pushes a third finger which makes you fall  over the edge. Feeling the walls of your cunt spasm and tighten makes him cum for a second time. Standing from his chair, rubbing his tip against your clit while continuing to finger you. Making eye contact as his warm cum covers your lower stomach. Resting your foreheads together, trying to catch your breath. He almost dozed off but eventually realized it was getting late. You were passed out, not wanting to wake you up, he carries you to the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping you down. He didn’t want to go through your clothes, so he slipped his tee-shirt over you. Walking out in his tanktop, Kirishima gave him a side eye as he left your room.

[folkwhoredoll]

𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒌 - 𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

kinktober 2024 masterlist

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

You don’t even hear him come in at first, too focused on the paperwork scattered across your desk. The quiet clink of keys, the faint click of the door closing behind him — none of it registers until Rafe’s hands are on your hips, his body pressing up against your back as he towers over you, his breath hot against your ear.

“Rafe,” you start, your voice coming out more surprised than you meant it to.

You glance over your shoulder, catching the dark, hungry look in his eyes. There’s no mistaking what he wants, what he’s been thinking about since he stepped through that door. He doesn’t say anything at first, his fingers tightening around your waist as his hips grind against your ass, letting you feel just how hard he already is.

“You’re busy?” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, laced with a dangerous edge of impatience.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on the pile of work in front of you. “I was just—”

But Rafe doesn’t let you finish. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, gripping just tight enough to make you gasp as he presses you forward, pinning you to the desk. The papers scatter across the surface, but you barely notice. Not with Rafe’s body pressed up against yours, his hand sliding down to your thigh, lifting your skirt higher.

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he growls, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you. And now I’m going to fuck you until you can’t think either.”

Your heart skips a beat, the roughness of his words sending a jolt of excitement through your body. You feel the tension in his grip, the barely-contained frustration that’s been building all day, and you know there’s no stopping him now.

He doesn’t wait for a response — he doesn’t need one. His hand moves under your skirt, yanking your panties down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed and vulnerable against the desk. The cool air hits your skin, but it’s quickly replaced by the heat of Rafe’s body, his fingers already sliding between your legs, finding you wet and ready for him.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, his fingers teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes. “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”

You bite your lip, your breath catching in your throat as his fingers work over your clit, building the heat inside you with a maddening rhythm. “Rafe…”

He doesn’t let you finish. His fingers slide inside you, filling you with a force that makes you gasp, your hips bucking against his hand as he sets a rough, unrelenting pace. The sound of your slick arousal fills the room, and you can feel his breath hitch behind you, his control slipping with every thrust of his fingers.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire. His free hand grips your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts his fingers deeper, harder, pushing you closer to the edge with every movement.

You try to brace yourself against the desk, your fingers digging into the wood as the pleasure builds inside you, overwhelming and all-consuming. Rafe’s presence behind you is overpowering, his body pressing into yours, his breath hot against your neck as he watches you fall apart beneath his touch.

“Rafe,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release. “Please…”

But Rafe isn’t done with you yet.

In one swift motion, he pulls his fingers out of you, and before you can protest, he’s undoing his belt, the sound of the leather slipping through the loops making your pulse quicken. His hand tightens on your waist, and then you feel him—hard, thick, and ready—pressing against your entrance.

“You’re going to take every inch of me,” he growls, his voice low, rough with need. “I’m not stopping until you’re screaming my name.”

You don’t even have time to respond before he thrusts into you, filling you completely in one smooth, powerful motion. The sensation of him stretching you has your back arching off the desk, a gasp escaping your lips as your fingers clutch the edge of the wood, desperate for something to hold onto.

Rafe doesn’t give you a moment to adjust. His hips snap against yours, setting a brutal pace that has the desk creaking beneath you, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. Every thrust sends a shockwave of pleasure through you, your body reacting to the sheer force of him, the way he’s taking you like he’s been waiting all day for this moment.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, his hand sliding up your back, pushing you down against the desk again, making sure you feel every inch of him as he fucks you harder. “You’re mine. You know that?”

You can barely think, your mind foggy from the overwhelming pleasure, but you manage to nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “Yes,” you breathe, your voice shaky. “I’m yours, Rafe.”

His grip tightens on your hips, and his pace quickens, his hips slamming into yours with a force that sends you closer and closer to the edge. The heat between you is unbearable, the pressure building inside you until you feel like you’re going to explode.

“Come for me,” Rafe growls, his hand sliding between your legs, his fingers circling your clit in quick, desperate strokes. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

His words are enough to send you over the edge. Your body seizes, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave, your fingers gripping the desk so hard your knuckles turn white. You cry out his name, your entire body trembling as the pleasure tears through you, wave after wave of overwhelming sensation.

Rafe isn’t far behind. His grip on your hips tightens, his pace becoming erratic as he drives into you one last time, his release hitting him with a low, guttural groan. You can feel him spilling inside you, his body shaking as he rides out the aftershocks, his chest heaving as he collapses against your back.

For a moment, the only sound is the ragged breathing between the two of you, the tension in the room finally breaking as the heat fades.

Rafe’s hand slides up your back, pulling you gently toward him, his lips brushing against your neck. “Fuck,” he mutters, his voice still rough but softer now. “You’re perfect.”

You smile, still breathless, as you turn your head slightly to meet his gaze. “And you’re trouble.”

He grins, that dark, dangerous look still lingering in his eyes. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Hold On You 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, bullying, depression, controlling and abusive behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to look on the bright side of life but a man comes along to blot out the sun.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Thank you all for feeding into this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

It’s a nice day to get out. One of the last sunny days of autumn. You can smell the soil and leaves and hear the call of pumpkin spice. Maybe on your way back. 

You can’t spend another day inside. Not after the week you’ve had. Besides, once the winter hits, you’ll have more than enough reason not to go past your front door. You’re going to make the most of your day off. More so, you’re going to keep your mind busy so it doesn’t fall back into the pit. 

It feels good to move around. Between hunching at your cubicle desk and squinting over your dining room table, that crick in your neck needs to be ironed out. You have to remind yourself to stand up straight as the muscles tug between your shoulder blades. 

You stop and turn to face the record shop. As you do, you’re nearly bowled over by another pedestrian. You hadn’t realised they were so close behind you. You back up and apologise but the man doesn’t even look at you as he veers toward the front door. The bell jingle as he enters with a huff, the back of his dark jacket a vague splotch in your vision. 

Oop. You’re in the way. Again. You do your best not to do that. You never want to stir the waters or be a bump in the road but somehow you always find a way to do that. No good comes from wallowing in it. As stressful as it can be to brave the public and its unpredictability, a smile keeps you from falling apart. 

You approach the shop and swing open the door. Oof, it’s much heavier than that man made it look. You greet the associate behind the counter with a beaming morning and ‘hello?’ He asks how you are and you give the easy answer; ‘good, how are you?’ He responds with the same empty courtesy. 

You look around the covers and the little signs that delineate every genre. Before you can get into all that, you need the most important piece of all. A record player. For as long as you’ve been waiting to set foot in the shop, you’ve been saving up for the player. 

You near the table stacked with varying shades of suitcase players. You read up on each brand and style. It will be best to tuck away when you’re not using it. Your small apartment is already too cluttered. 

You pick a lilac player with little white roses stamped over the cover. It’s on sale. A sign above proclaims that you can get twenty percent off three or more records when you by a player. Well, how about that? It isn’t all doom and gloom. 

You hug the player under your arm and near the shelves mounted to the walls. You peruse the titles intently. Something new? Something you know? You definitely don’t want to get just one genre.  

As you sidle along, the corner of the box knocks against something. You look back and another ‘sorry’ bubbles from your lips. It’s that man again. He’s browsing the end cap behind you and growls at your apology. You stare at him for a moment, he seems at home in a place like this. 

“Um, excuse me, sir,” you say, “do you have any recommendations?” 

He grumbles and puts the album back in its slot. He looks over his shoulder with detest curled into his lip. The stone chiseled into his jaw makes you gulp. 

“What?” He scowls. 

“Sorry, I didn’t... I was only... curious. Have a good day, sir.” 

“Good? What’s good about it?” He hisses. You wince and move to the next section. Not far enough as he sighs, “you know, you wouldn’t like my taste anyway. Stick to your girly pop.” 

You resist a frown. You’re not going to let someone like that bring you down. You can tell that he looks for the worst in everything and everyone. You wouldn’t judge someone by their appearance but his demeanour says as much as his words. You won’t add to his cynicism but bothering him further. 

You pick out an Etta James album that you recognise. Your grandmother had the same one. You think your mother snatched it up after she passed. You didn’t get much from the inheritance. As it is, you’d rather have your grandma back. Someone to talk to. 

You move on to the rock section. There’s hair metal and classic rock and grunge and all sorts. You’re not unfamiliar with the genre but you don’t want to be too obvious.  

A scuff startles you and you glance over at the man in the dark jacket. He seems familiar. His short brown hair, his stubbly jaw, and his intensity trigger something in your head. You definitely don’t know him. Everyone you know is too busy for you. 

“Probably don’t even know how to use the damn thing,” he snips under his breath as he gets closer. 

You realise he’s talking about you. It’s no good arguing. You’ve met his kind before. Back when your friends had the time of day for you, you met that type at their parties. You avoided them. 

You leave the aisle. You don’t want to be in his way, though it seems no matter what you do, you are. You find yourself exactly where he predicted. Well, who cares? It’s all a matter of brain chemistry, right? You don’t get to choose what you like, you just like it. It makes your brain happy and heaven knows you need more of that. 

You pick out another favourite then head over to new release. You’ve never heard Sabrina Carpenter. You’ll give it a try. 

You approach the counter and as you do, another sigh storms through the shop. The man’s behind you. Oh no, had you cut him off? 

“You want to go ahead of me?” You ask as you keep your haul in your arms. 

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, a single record in his hand; The Boswell Sisters. You’ve never heard of them but it really doesn’t look like heavy metal. You turn back to the cashier and smile, “hello, um, this is it.” 

You put your things up as the man returns your smile. He asks if you want a bag and you say, ‘yes, please’. Things might not be perfect but it doesn’t mean you can’t try to make them better. And if a smile and manners can brighten someone else’s day, that alone makes yours a little sunnier. 

🪢

The box for the player has a little plastic handle. You’re happy for that as it makes your journey to cafe a little easier. You stand in line with your paper bag and bulky box and move along until it’s your turn. You order the pumpkin spice but think better of double up with the pumpkin cream muffin; you instead opt for the apple cinnamon with the chunks you can see through the top. 

Patiently, you stand by the wall until your order comes up. You crinkle around the other customers and claim it, balancing it all delicately toward an empty table. You tuck the box underneath and lean the bag against it. 

You tear apart the muffin, dividing the bottom from the top. You peel back the liner and eat the former first, pinching morsels between your fingers. You don’t know why you do it that way, you just always have.  

You taste the pumpkin spice. It’s good. Not too spicy at all. It tastes like real pumpkin. Considering the place is local, it might very well be. You pop the lid off to reveal the mostly melted cream and have another sip. 

You wipe the dairy mustache from your upper lip with a napkin and your eyes flick up to meet another pair. Not far from you, that man stands with his hands in his pockets. He’s waiting by the order window for his own delight. Well, that’s great. Maybe it will cheer him up. 

He glowers until you look through the window. Or not. The baristas call out a black coffee as you chew on the brim of the paper cup. You stare out into New York traffic and feel yourself getting smaller. It’s easy to feel lost in the city. 

As you watch through the window, a dark figure passes before it. You lift your gaze and again find yourself at the mercy of that man’s grim snarl. You quickly turn back to your latte. He must’ve had that black coffee. He might do with a bit of sugar. 

You try not to think about it. You don’t know him. You don’t know his problems. Just like anyone else. People don’t know that you feel heavy when you wake up or that you spend your hours keeping your hands busy so you don’t have to think. They only know the woman with the smile and the chipper voice and just as swiftly forget about her. 

You pick away at the muffin, savouring in each bite. You’re thankful for that. For that moment. You have coffee and a nice dessert and you got your record player. It's best not to think about all the existential stuff you can’t change. It will come back later when you’re alone. It can wait until then. 

🪢

Your walk home sees the sun hiding behind the clouds. The downpour begins a block away from your building and soaks you through. You keep your head down against the sheets of rain and hurry up the walk as the front door comes in sight. 

The elevator is out of order. Again. You climb the stairs in your squeaky soles and finally reach your apartment. You push inside and kick off your sodden shoes and peel away your jacket. The turtleneck beneath is just as drenched. 

You don’t strip down right away. You’re more concerned with your prizes. The records are fine, the covers just a bit damp, and the player doesn’t seem to have taken too much water. You leave it all on the counter and go to change into your favourite fuzzy pajamas. 

You come back out to the front room and stop to admire the slake of rain pelleting against the large windows. It might be dreary but it’s beautiful in its own way. You let the tempo lull you as you unpack the player and set it up on the book shelf.  

You slide the Etta James record from its sleeve and lay it on the player, moving the needle into place. You let it play as you back up, the boisterous tones of the legend melding perfectly with the raindrops. You smile; not the put-upon smile you wear for strangers but a smile of nostalgia and calm. You miss your grandma terribly but the music doesn’t make you sad. 

You go to the table, still messy from last night’s work. It never is clear. You always have scraps and bits littered over it, your sewing machine a permanent fixture on the worn wood. You sit and pick up the felt clump and go back to needling it to a discernible shape. 

Your brows nearly meet in the middle for your focus and it isn’t until the record begins to skip that you sit up. That damn kink is back. Your own fault. Can’t be mad at anyone but yourself. 

You flip the record and let it play out. When it’s over, you shut off the player. You eat the leftovers you’ve been parsing out for the week and settle in for your favourite romcom. It’s cheesy and a little lame but you only have to keep yourself happy. Or try to. 

You leave your plate on the coffee table and hunker down to finish the movie. You’re tired when it’s over but know you won’t sleep. So you go back to the table and work as the rain slows to a lazy rhythm. Your eyelids droop, your shoulders too, but you persist. 

The windows grow dark and there is only the distant shine of streetlights and few windows in the neighbouring buildings. You stare out at the blurring haze and it fades to a deep grey. You wake leaning back in the chair, your head hanging off your neck. You groan as you sit up and curse your carelessness. 

It won’t make work any less intolerable. You check the time ticking away on the clock that came with the apartment. You can get another hour or two. You get up and trod off to bed, not bothering to shut off the lights. You don’t sleep well in the pitch black. 

You fall into bed and just as quickly find yourself unbearable awake. All those little doubts and fears rise up to the surface and have you drowning just below. This is why you end up sleeping upright or folded over. Trying never works for you. Not at anything. 

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.” 

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it. 

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly. 

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely. 

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read. 

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted. 

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.” 

Roman….

He confuses her. 

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly. 

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears. 

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space. 

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different. 

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation.  “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?” 

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly. 

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate. 

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.” 

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical.  “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer. 

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me. 

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me. 

I’ve never had a man be nice to me. 

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them. 

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins. 

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began. 

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins. 

This is one of those moments. 

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night. 

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman. 

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing. 

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins. 

She has no idea where Solo is. 

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.” 

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains. 

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot. 

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi. 

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word. 

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment. 

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable. 

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected. 

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.  

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman. 

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line. 

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she���s not going to like this advice. 

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body. 

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name. 

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia. 

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on. 

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions. 

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks. 

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.” 

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat. 

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now. 

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information. 

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.  

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman. 

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her. 

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is. 

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister. 

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul. 

Roman simply states, “talk.” 

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome.  Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health. 

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her. 

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage. 

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her. 

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can. 

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.” 

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand. 

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two. 

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him. 

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised. 

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him. 

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination. 

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering. 

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard. 

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room. 

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop. 

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood. 

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage. 

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from. 

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed. 

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, “we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough. 

“Make it 20.” 

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.” 

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way. 

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck! 

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack. 

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head. 

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands,  “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate. 

That only pisses him off even more. 

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt. 

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves. 

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red. 

He knew something happened to her. 

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped. 

Beaten. 

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom. 

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall. 

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana. 

He’s fucking breathing rage. 

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better. 

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault. 

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket. 

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get. 

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps. 

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before. 

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety. 

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost. 

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic. 

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is. 

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did. 

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?” 

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable. 

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

[simonisferal]

Valentine — wanderer x gn reader

erhmm, kaveh gets taped to the ceiling, obvious courting/pining, reader's a fucking simp, wanderer's a small bitch/affectionate

guy came up to me and became my valentine, now i gotta reject him because i dont see him like that 😭 but happy valentines day!!

1.5k words

Valentine’s Day was literally today and you were stressing about what to get your lovely partner! Well, not really. If anything, you’re freaking out on how to confess your feelings for them and *then* ask him out. Crazy, and very last minute, you know, but hear yourself out!

You’ve been pinning and courting him for a while. It’s painfully obvious that you liked him, or at least you think.

Wanderer had no revelation. Sometimes he thought that the flowers and large amounts of flowers, snacks and drinks you left on his desk or mail was part of a big prank. Not even his new friend group (“Aggravate”, as Cyno called them) could tell him differently.

They were walking down the halls, ignoring most people who gawked and eyed them. It wasn’t rare for people to look at the five beauties but it was fairly worse since it’s a holiday.

”You excited?” Tighnari, one of the only people who have a brain in this dumb school, mentions.

"For what?” He pauses his walk.

“Oh! For his little secret admirer to come up and confess!” Kaveh squeals. Alhaitham, who stood behind him only snorted but stayed quiet. Tighnari looked to the side but nevertheless agreed with him, “Something like that. I was going to say chocolates or a present but that works.”

Cyno interjects, “Maybe a letter? Something simple to not attract too much attention to you, I would guess.”

”Oh please, I doubt that prankster has the balls to come up to my face and say something, let alone a fake confession.” Wanderer says, not only denying the idea but shooting down Kaveh’s suggestion as well.

"Booo! Where’s your passion for love? I don’t understand how people like you, babes.” Alhaitham pats Kaveh’s back but we all know he thinks it too.The puppet snorts but doesn’t refute anything else. He continues to walk, leaving the four behind while they head to their classes.

Wanderer was interrupted many times by others trying to give him gifts, making him late several times. He grew tired of the holiday and just wanted to go home. Maybe Tighnari can give him something to ease his mind when it's time for study hall.

But they never show up. Wow, ‘real friends’ my ass.

When he goes to his next class, down a small hall in the Vahumana category, Wanderer only sees the empty class. There was no way he was late or early or even in the wrong classroom.

His wary behavior didn’t cease when he noticed a singular note on a desk, his desk. Wanderer didn’t hesitate to pick it up, his smooth hands running over the frail paper before unfolding it from its fold.

Dear Wanderer, it read.

You’re probably reading this with caution or at least looking behind your back right now but I can assure you, nothing bad’s gonna happen as you read this! (I don’t know if that sounded ominious ominous or not so, sorry :( )

I’m the one who keeps buying you flowers and those snacks if you didn’t know by now! I actually have something to tell you and I really hope you come to the library or else I’ll kind of look like a loser lol— Your secret admirer

ps: I’m a little offended you think this whole thing is a prank, Wanderer :(

Damn. He closed the piece of paper and ran his hands through it again. ‘Yeah, right. Like someone would actually love me enough to do this’, he thinks.

Wanderer shoves the note into his short’s pocket and sits down in his seat. There are small trinkets and sour candies in the desk with another note, “Just in case you get hungry :)”. …He sighs. He takes one of the candies in his hand and starts unwrapping the wrapper. ”You guys can come out now. I finished reading the letter.”

There was a small hint of silence before anyone spoke.

"Oh thank the gods, I thought you were gonna leave us here.” Kaveh groans. Both Tighnari and Cyno reveal themselves from hiding in a closet and Alhatiham just turns around in the professor's chair.

”Kaveh?! How’d you get up there?” Tighnari leaves the closet, passing by Wanderer to get under Kaveh, who was duct-taped to the ceiling. He looked sick and frail and like he was about to throw up.”I asked Alhaitham to help me like three hours ago but he never got me down! I missed a bunch of classes..” He whines. Tighnari gives Haitham a glare but the grey-haired male ignores it.

”I’ll help you down, okay?” Tighnari comforts Kaveh and stretches his hand out towards the closet. “Cyno, give me my bow.”

”Alright.” Cyno starts reaching into the closet while the four of them could hear Kaveh pleading, “Wait! No! I can get down myse—!”

Wanderer’s ears ring at the loud sound of Kaveh crashing onto the floor. Joking, of course. He used his anemo powers to safely get the blond down.

"You four are such a hassle.” He groans.

"Well?”

“‘Well’ what?”

”Are you gonna go?”

”Go where?”

”The library, for god's sake!”

Cyno nods along. “[Name] is waiting for you there.”Wanderer groans again while everyone else looks at Cyno like he just admitted to a murder. They whisper as the puppet crosses his arms in his seat. “I’m not going to a dumbass library to just meet [Na]—…[Name]?”

"Oh wow, Cyno spilled. Expected it to be Kaveh.” Alhaitham retorts. Wanderer could only hear a small ‘hey!’ from the thoughts running through his head.

Believe it or not but you were the second place bachelor in the Akademiya. Most girls and guys would be pursuing you right now but you were just in the library? And you liked him? Yeah, right, he’ll have to see it with his own eyes.

”Fine, come on. Let’s go.” He stood up from his seat and began to walk out the classroom, leaving the four boys again.

”Should we go after him?” Kaveh asked.

"You just fell off of a ceiling, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go…”He whines again but wipes his butt from any dirt from the floor. “Okay…”

”I’ll stay with you.”

”Alhaitham, what?”

”You heard me.”

Both Tighnari and Cyno left to chase after Wanderer, the quick fellow already somehow causing a commotion in the halls. You were sitting in the library when Wanderer ran in. You expected him to come, not because you thought of him as a hopeless romantic but because you knew he’d want to see such a wanted figure as yourself actually liking someone.

”Good afternoon, Wanderer.” He heard.

You were carrying a Sumeru rose in your hands, fiddling and admiring the petals and thorns. He just stood in front of you, not believing it wasn’t a prank.

”’Good afternoon’ my ass. What do you want?”

You frown. “Did you not read the letter I left for you?”

He crosses his arms and scoffs. He had an obvious face of disdain, still not believing you. “Why yes of course I did. And just so you know,” he took a small step closer. “I still think this is a dumb joke.”

That statement couldn’t help but make you laugh. “Really? Aren’t a lot of people pursuing you? What about me courting you for, like, 3 months?”He falls silent. You weren’t known for your jokes, most people (excluding Cyno) thought you were unfunny. You also weren’t a liar—everyone calls you honest and trustworthy that even Wanderer can only imagine how many promises you’ve completed.

”Look. I’m really not joking…” You stand up from your chair at the library, taking small steps towards the short male. You extend your hand, showing him the rose you had been admiring for so long.

“I like you.”

Ha… Haha.. He starts laughing. Wanderer found you absolutely stupid. No one, ever, would actually admit to liking him—let alone on a holiday all about love. You had to be an idiot to even think about him romantically.

The puppet stops laughing after noticing you hadn’t gone away or laughed with him. He raised an eyebrow and looked at your frown. “Seriously? You’re an idiot.” His rude remark did nothing to hide the small smile on his face. It was amusing, such a silly thing actually. Who knew you would be such a dumbass for love? Now he doesn't feel even a single drop of guilt for eating all those snacks.

That look on your face says it all. You're in love with him. Pathetic, honestly. But Wanderer'll give you (and himself) a chance at this little game called life. He finds this little situation funny now that he knows it's not some sort of sick joke.

”Fine, I’ll give you a chance.” He takes the rose in his hands, twirling it with his fingers. He looked up at your excited smile. Humans are so easy to please, he thinks but it doesn't stop the small smile crawling on his own face.

”Just don’t bore me.”

[pinejayy]

Muzan, Douma and Gyokko having a human girlfriend

I’m simply writing these because I’m simping so hard for these Demon men so these are mostly for my dirty minded head uwu

Kinda went the extra mile for daddy Gyokko mm

SFW and NSFW Headcanons!! 

Muzan Kibutsuji

SFW 

Muzan is a harsh Demon and even towards you. Despite being his lover he’ll still treat you like hot garbage. But as time passes by he will warm up to you. But don’t expect him to be the kindest.

You should be lucky to even be looking at his direction, with him being the Demon King and you just being a weak human girl. And be grateful that he hasn’t killed you yet. Just don’t anger him, it won’t end pretty for you. 

Deep down Muzan cares for you but he doesn’t know how to show it, but if you were to help him with these new emotions he’ll appreciate it. 

BUT OH BOY MUZAN IS A SUGAR DADDY, AND YOU KNOW IT! You want something he already has it for you. You want money, here’s a bag sweetheart go spoil yourself. He’ll shower you with expensive gifts, but lacks in emotional love. 

Always has an eye on you, he’ll protect you. He knows how fragile Humans are and if someone dare lays an eye on you they better hope he’s in a good mood and if not he’ll kill them in cold blood and he doesn’t care if they are an upper moon. He can always replace them. 

NSFW

Muzan loves pinning you against his bed, he loves watching you struggle. He’s definitely into predator and prey play. He’s always top! So don’t bother asking him if you could be on top.

He loves to tie you up, and he loves tracing a long nail against you soft skin, he’ll even apply some pressure to draw blood out. AND HE LOVES BLOOD PLAY!! HE ESPECIALLY GETS EXCITED ON YOUR PERIOD.

Sometimes he’ll be cool enough to where you can give him a blow job while he’s working. Just like imagine you under the desk and you’re going down town on his dick. 

His favorite sex position is missionary, he feels like he has total power against you. He loves the way you make faces when he hits a certain spot. But he just likes it when he’s in charge.

He’s rough, and you’re gonna be screaming his name. Every Demon is going to hear you moan his name out.

Douma

SFW

Douma is a huge selfish asshole, he loves getting under your skin. But this demon ‘Loves’ you. And by love you I mean you’re just a plaything for him. A pet....and a master always needs his pet.

He is a huge sucker whenever you praise him, so you better get on your knees and tell him on how great he is, how handsome he is. Douma is also gonna use you as a foot rest. 

He loves making sure that you know that you’re just a pet for him. Nothing more...But you’re his favorite so you have that going for you. Yes it’s gonna hurt you but his attention makes you go crazy. 

Since you’re his favorite pet he’s gonna make sure you’re always dressed so well. He is Upper Moon 2 so you have to look pretty for him. 

This sick bastard loves playing with your feelings, like he loves reminding you that you mean nothing to him, that you’re useless, you’re nothing but a pet. And that you’re bound to him until you die.

NSFW

Like I said, this bastard sees you as pet and only as a pet. So you better get on your knees and suck him off. And praise him while you’re at it. He’ll just laugh and shove his cock deeper down your throat. 

He loves hearing you beg, like you’re in the mood. He’ll make you beg and simple please won’t do you well. You have to get on your knees and cry to him, Cry on how bad you want him. 

Douma loves the way you taste, the way his tongue moves against your clit and all the sensitive areas. And you better let him have a tasty treat when it’s that time of the month. 

He loves whenever you ride him, the way your chest bounces up. It will drive him crazy!! He also loves marking you, that includes biting, scratchs and bruises.

He’s very selfish so don’t get upset when he thinks about his pleasure first rather than yours. Oof.

Gyokko 

SFW

Oh boy! Gyokko is probably the one who’s gonna treat you better. I mean you are his and his only!! YOU’RE LIKE AN ART PIECE TO HIM! The way you smile and laugh he just loves it! You’re his favorite kind of Art. 

He adores you, he doesn’t know how he landed on such a beautiful girl as your self. And he’s so grateful for you, I mean he knows he isn’t the best looking but with you he feels special.

Please praise him!! I’m begging you!! It will make him feel special!

My sweet boy loves gifting you his pots! And he always gives you the best ones!! The best ones for his best beautiful girlfriend!

He’ll make you carry him if he’s in his pot, but this handsome demon loves late night walks with you.

But if he’s in his final form *daddy*he’ll treat you like a toy. A delicate toy. 

Whenever he comes back to you and he’s badly injured you’ll gladly give him some of your blood!

If anyone looks at you and or even tries to flirt with you he’ll shove their body into a pot. No one is deserving enough to lay eyes on your beauty!!

Despite being Upper Moon 5 he’ll hurt the other Upper Moons if they try to flirt with! And with that being said he doesn’t like Douma! That sneaky bastard is always trying to flirt with you.

NSFW

Our boy is gonna put your pleasure first!! He loves making you moan and squirm around. And the way you moan out his name it drives him crazy!!

Two he has two mouths that means twice the kisses! Twice the dirty talk! And twice the tongue of you know what I mean. Wink wink~

He loves praising your body, he loves kissing every single part of your body. He loves telling you how beautiful you are. He loves dragging his fingers against your soft and delicate skin. He loves the way you smell it, so intoxicated for him.

Imagine two tongues pleasing you orally! He’s a god at it! He’s gonna have you shaking, your knees shaking.

As for him, he loves pleasing you with his final form. He loves wrapping his body against your naked body. He could squeeze you, but he won’t. 

With your permission he would like to cover you in blood (obviously not your blood) but he’ll like to cover you in someone’s blood. Imagine your naked body covered in blood and he just licks it off.

This artist would love to paint you. Like you better pose for him naked and he’ll paint you onto a pot. And of course no one is gonna see the pot. That’s his special pot and that’s only for his eyes.

Gyokko is gonna please you to the end, you’re his special little art piece. He deeply loves you.

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Can u do one where he gets mad at female reader bc we try and help miles so he fucks reader out of hate Frustration? you dont have to it you dont want to!

I’m so sorry it’s taken to long… Also idk how good this is, it’s been so long since I’ve written this stuff.

CW: 18+, smut

You knew this day was coming. I mean, you had seen what happened to the others, or what the plan was for their fate. You knew standing by while Miles escaped meant directly going against your boss. After hearing the whole story, though, you couldn’t help it. You saw both sides, and made your choice.

Now here you are, standing outside the doors to Miguel’s observation room. He had been calling spiders in for days now, you were surprised so many others had defied him with you. They were all kicked out, had their watches taken away, even a few Miguel wouldn’t want to see leave. But he had to do what he had to do.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the door, Miguel never scared you before, but you weren’t on his bad side before either. He’s always been known for his temper, anything could happen. If you’re lucky he’ll send you to your dimension after some strong words. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’ll do. You didn’t actively stop him from perusing Miles either, you just didn’t help. How much harm could that have caused?

Miguel stood on his platform, looking over the dozens of monitors displayed in front of him. He looked intimidating as ever, and that’s something you wouldn’t have complained about prior to this. You approached slowly, as if advancing towards a dangerous animal. The tension was thick, he could almost feel the hesitancy in your steps. It almost made him laugh, how frightened he could make such brave heros, especially ones that were never scared before.

“You know why I’ve called you in here, yes?” He started, stepping down from the platform. “I don’t need to hear your reasons or excuses. I’ve heard enough of those today.” You let out a sigh, knowing your termination was coming next. He stepped closer, now looming over you, the height difference so much more obvious to you than before.

“I don’t want to bring an end to your position here.” You can feel the frustration building, he wears him anger, never hides it. “I never expected you of all spiders to go against me.” He reaches out, and pulls you in closer. You felt your face warm up as he brings you to his desk. With a swift motion he has you pinned to the desk, his broad chest pressing against your back.

Miguel lets out a sigh. “These past few days have been difficult, and the more faces I see, knowing that they have directly gone against my orders…” His claws dig into the metal. “I need some stress relief.” He growls into your ear.

With those same claws he rips through the fabric of your suit. That is mildly annoying… but a problem for later. It takes a few seconds for it to register that your suit is ripped. As in… you’re now exposed to him. He seems pleased with himself as he makes the crotch of his suit disappear.

Miguel pressed you further into the desk, allowing you to feel his rather large cock. You bit your lip, anticipating what comes next. Slowly, he pushed into you, stretching you slightly and making you take the entire length. You tried hard to contain your noises, letting a few groans slip out here and there. He wanted to hear more.

You felt his hands on your hips now, claws gripping at your skin as he began to slowly move back and forth. You felt yourself coming undone beneath him. It felt oh so good. The slow pace only lasted a few thrusts before he started pounding, fucking his frustrations out. He groaned and growled in your ear as he used you for his own stress relief. You didn’t mind of course, especially after this.

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin, your panting and moans, as well as his low growls. The scene is hot, and the memories will plague your thoughts for weeks to come. Now you really hope he isn’t kicking you out. His thrusts sped up, he slammed into you with so much force it jostled the desk.

Your moans only got louder as he got more fierce, more aggressive. Soon you felt his hips stutter, his grip tightening, you knew he was close. He lets out a low groan as he spills inside you, his claws piercing your skin. You moaned louder as he came around his cock. He continued to thrust, riding out your orgasms together.

Miguel slowed as you both came down from the high, pulling out once you’re both calmed. You pant softly, using the desk to keep yourself up. He noticed the struggle, your wobbly legs struggling to let you stand, and he rolls his eyes. He sits in his chair, pulling you into his lap to aid you despite the attitude. You’re grateful, for however long this softness lasts.

Perhaps he’ll keep you around longer, he can forgive one mistake… even if it’s a large mistake, he can forgive…

[barefoothighlander]

ghost fucking you in his uniform and making you call him by his title

oh my god🧎🏻‍♀️

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, est relationship, creampie, superiority kink kinda

He calls you into his office after a mission for some disciplinary action and you get there and he’s just sitting in his chair, full gear, mask on, legs spread.

He doesn’t let you sit so you’re just standing at his desk,

“Why do you think I called you in here?”

“I’m not sure”

You’re nervous under his stare you can feel goosebumps covering your skin

“You know why”

He’s gonna make you fess up to whatever happened whether you want to or not.

He moves to stand in front of you and you can’t look him in the eye, his hand cups your jaw to tilt your head up, his eyes are pitch black looking back at you.

“Am I gonna have to fuck it out of you?”

Your eyes go wide at his words, you’d heartbeat racing, he grabs you hand and moves it over his groin and he’s rock hard.

You but at your lower lip, fingers trying to undo the buttons on his pants,

“Having trouble?”

You huff a small breath, unzipping his pants and moving to kneel but his hands stop you.

“Not this time”

His hands grab your waist and sit you in the desk, his fingers making quick work of your pants.

He doesn’t spend any time preparing you, he needs to be inside you now, you thank the gods that your arousal was enough to help him in.

Your head falls foward and you sob into his shoulder as he bottoms out,

“Si”

His hand grabs your jaw forcing you to you at him, his mask staring back at you.

“Lieutenant” He growls, he pounding into you, the hem of his pants grinding against your clit as his hands pin you down, keeping you still.

Your hands are clinging to him, you try to muffle your moans in his shoulder but it’s no use.

His thumb circles your clit and you clench down on him,

“Lieutenant please need to cum”

“You think you deserve to cum after the shit you pulled today”

“Please I’ll be good, I promise”

He can’t deny you when you’re staring at him with doe eyes, your heels digging into the flesh of his ass as he thrusts into you.

His arms snaked around your waist keeping you stuck to him as he drives his hips into you, your hands grabbing at anything to try and ground yourself as your orgasm nears.

“You’re gonna cum when I tell you to, not a second before”

You can only manage a nod, his massive cock splitting you open as he grunts in your ear, the sides of his mask digging into your skin.

His fingers work faster on your clit, the cool inside you stretching, begging for release.

He sets a brutal pace, chasing his own high,

“Fuck, cum for me, cum on my cock”

His permission send you off the edge, you clamp down on him as sparks ignite your nerves, your limbs clinging to him as you cum around his cock.

He bottoms out, his balls tightening as he fills you, his spend pooling inside your core as you rode out your high.

You whimper when he pulls from you, his fingers pushing into your pussy to make sure his cum stays inside you as he leans down to pull your pants up before tucking himself away.

“We clear on what happens if you fuck up in the field”

“Yes Sir”

“Good”

And he lifts his mask up slightly to lean in and kiss you, his eyes scanning your face to make sure you’re okay.

“You’re dismissed”

“Thank you Lieutenant”

He tries to remain professional as you leave the room knowing he was definitely going to fuck you senseless when you got home.