#pretty boys and their cheap cigarettes

[sirrenhd]

soft lips // rough fingers

[duskidolsmut]

Blonde College Slut Fucked in Anal Gangbang

Shin Yuna is a college student living on the edge, a stunning blonde who uses her beauty and provocative attitude to dominate the campus. Known for manipulating others in exchange for favors, she plays a dangerous game of seduction and power, always coming out on top—or so she thinks. When a dorm party becomes the stage for a plot hatched by someone close to her, Yuna finds herself thrust into an abyss of pleasure and chaos that tests her limits. Between betrayals, forbidden desires, and brutal consequences, she finds that the control she once cherished may slip from her grasp. Now, with secrets lurking and hungry eyes following her, the campus will never be the same—and neither will Yuna.

Tags: Hardcore, Anal, Deepthroat, Creampie, Facial, Spanking, Slut, College Girl, Cheating, Cuckold, Big Dicks, Threesome+, Party, Dorm Room, Drunk, Stoned, Revenge Fuck, Public Humiliation, Screaming, Crying, Begging, Slutty, Broken, Cumslut, Virgin Anal, Forced, Aggressive, Dirty Talk, Cum Everywhere, Sweaty

W:

The sun was beating down on the college courtyard, but no one there seemed to care about the heat. Not when Yuna strutted past as if the world were her own private stage. At 1.70 m tall, her long legs cut through the air like knives, highlighted by a short black skirt that barely covered the bare essentials. The cropped top showed off her tiny waist, and the generous cleavage gave a teaser of what she knew everyone wanted to see. Her blonde hair, now straight and shiny, swayed with each step, and her large, slanted eyes seemed to be hunting prey in the crowd of college students. Her fair skin glowed as if she had stepped out of an Instagram filter, and her full lips, painted a shocking pink, curved in a little smile. 

Yuna wasn't just pretty — she was an admitted slut, the kind who knows the power she has and uses it without mercy. It wasn't about love or passion; for her, everything was a game of trade. A quick blowjob behind the library building? Sure, but only if the guy bought her a snack afterwards. A little help in the hallway bathroom? Great, as long as it was a little favor like "give me the answers to the test." She didn't give anything away for free, and the guys at college had already learned that — or at least they tried to learn, because Yuna was too good at stringing people along.

Today, she was in hunting mode. She stopped near a group of freshmen who were smoking e-cigarettes, leaning against a bench. The strawberry smell of the vape mixed with the sweat of the hot day, and the guys stopped talking the moment she arrived, their eyes glued to her like flies on honey.

"So, boys, how's your day going?" Yuna tossed her hair to the side, leaning her body just enough to let her cleavage speak for itself. Her voice was sweet, but with a tone of someone who was always in charge.

One of the guys, a skinny guy with a backwards cap named Riku, choked on his vape and coughed before answering:

— O-okay, Yuna. What about yours?

She laughed, a short, mocking sound, and took a step closer, almost touching him.

—It’s boring, you know? I need someone to cheer me up. — Her feline eyes roamed the group, stopping at each one as if assessing their potential. — Who here has something to offer me?

Another guy, Kenta, braver and with a piercing in his eyebrow, gave a crooked smile and lifted his chin.

—I have an energy drink in my backpack. I’ll give it to you if you… I don’t know, let me film you dancing a little.

Yuna arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms in a way that only highlighted her bust.

— An energy drink? Do you think I’m cheap, Kenta? — She giggled, but approached him, lightly brushing her shoulder against his chest. — Give me the energy drink and another twenty dollars and I'll dance for your camera. But just for a minute, okay, I'm not a free stripper.

Kenta hesitated, but her look — that mischievous glint that promised more than she was going to deliver — made him give in.

— Okay, okay, I'll pay! — He was already reaching for his wallet, his fingers shaking with anxiety.

— Good choice, kitty — Yuna winked, taking the energy drink from his hand and opening it with a snap. She took a slow sip, letting a drop run down the corner of her mouth just to tease, and wiped it with her finger while staring at the group. — So, where's my stage?

Riku, still a little dumbfounded, pointed to the bench.

— This is fine, right? Just... do it, Yuna.

She climbed up onto the bench with the agility of someone who had done it a thousand times, her skirt riding up dangerously as she moved her hips to a rhythm that didn't need music. The guys were drooling, Kenta already had his cell phone in his hand filming, and she laughed inside at how easy it was to dominate them. A minute later, she jumped down, reached for the money and pocketed the twenty dollars without even saying thank you.

— Thanks, guys. It was good, but I have other things to do. — She turned her back, already aiming at the next target in the courtyard, but not before throwing one last comment over her shoulder: — If you want something more… special, just bring something worth it, okay?

Later, in the hallway of the humanities building, she pressed a senior named Hiro against his locker. The guy was tall, with messy hair and an air of someone who thought he could take anyone to bed. Yuna knew he had a reputation as a player, but she also knew he had a new motorcycle — and she was dying to go for a ride.

“Hey, Hiro,” she purred, playing with the string on his sweatshirt. “I hear you’ve got a brand new Kawasaki. Take me for a ride?”

Hiro gave a smug smile, clearly thinking he was in control.

“It depends, Yuna. What can I get in return?”

She got closer, her chest almost touching his, and whispered in his ear:

— I'll make you cum so fast you'll think you're dreaming. But only after the ride, and you have to let me lead the way.

He laughed, but the sparkle in his eyes gave away that he was already hooked.

— Deal, you bitch. But you're not going to string me along, okay?

— Me? String me along? — Yuna patted his face, laughing. — Only if you don't do your part, handsome.

As she walked off down the hallway, Yuna was already thinking about her next move. She wasn't one to get attached, or to give anything away for free. Every touch, every promise, was a coin in her pocket or a favor up her sleeve. The campus was her playground, and the guys? Just pieces on the board.

Yuna was at the height of her reign on campus, but not everything was just a parade and exchanging favors with silly freshmen. There was a side of her that no one saw—a dirty little secret that she kept with a mischievous smile on her pink lips. This secret had a name: Hector. He was Lia's boyfriend, one of the few friends Yuna kept out of convenience. Lia was all proper, glasses, the kind of girl who thought the world revolved around fidelity and good grades. Little did she know that her boyfriend, a 6'1" guy with messy black hair and a burning gaze, was completely crazy about the blonde slut she called her friend.

Heitor and Yuna had started this thing a few weeks ago. He was different from the other guys she manipulated — he wasn't some dumb jerk who fell for it easily. No, Heitor had a fire in his eyes, a raw energy that made her heart race. He didn't ask for favors; he took what he wanted. And Yuna? She loved it. She loved the way he grabbed her, his big hands squeezing her thin waist or pulling her blond hair hard. He was aggressive, almost wild, and she, who was always in control, found herself moaning too loudly at those moments.

The two of them had a place: the bathrooms of an abandoned college block, a forgotten corner where the smell of mold and peeling paint mixed with the heat they exuded in the air. It was perfect — no one went there, and the risk of getting caught only made it all the more enjoyable. Today, Yuna was leaning against the wall of the main hallway, pretending to use her cell phone while she sent him a message:

— "Old bathroom, 3pm. Don't keep me waiting, you dog."

Heitor replied in two seconds:

— "I'm coming, you bitch. Better get ready."

She laughed to herself, putting her cell phone in the pocket of her short skirt. She passed Lia on the way, giving a quick wave and a "Hi, beautiful, see you in class!" while the poor girl smiled back, without suspecting anything. Yuna almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

When she arrived at the abandoned bathroom, the place was silent, only the sound of a dripping pipe echoing off the cracked walls. She barely had time to lean against the filthy sink before she heard his heavy footsteps. Heitor walked in, his black t-shirt stuck to his sweaty body — he had probably run to get there —, and his brown eyes were already fixed on her as if she were a piece of meat. — You came fast, huh — Yuna teased, crossing her arms to lift her bust in her tight top. — Do you miss me that much?

He didn't answer with words. In two steps, he was in front of her, one hand grabbing her wrist and the other already going up under her skirt, squeezing her thigh hard enough to leave a mark.

— Shut up, Yuna — he growled, his breath hot on her neck. — You've been teasing me all day, now take it.

She laughed, but the sound turned into a moan when he turned her back against the sink, pulling her blond hair with a jerk.

— That's it, Hector, show me what you've got — she said, her voice shaking with excitement. — But don't crush me too much, huh? I still have to show up in one piece later.

— In one piece? — He slapped her ass, the sound echoing in the empty bathroom. — You're going to leave here limping, you whore.

Yuna bit her lip, her feline eyes shining in the reflection of the broken mirror in front of her. She loved this brutality, the way he dominated her without asking for permission. It was the opposite of the guys she had been fooling around with — Hector didn't negotiate, didn't offer anything in return. He just took, and she let him, because, fuck, he was too good.

He pushed her against the sink, the cold metal hitting her waist as he ripped her panties with a single pull.

"That's what you want, right?" he murmured, already undoing his belt with one hand while the other held her neck. "To text me while I'm with Lia, driving me crazy…

"Of course, you idiot," Yuna retorted, arching her back towards him. "She doesn't give you that, does she? The good Lia doesn't even know where to put her hand." Hector laughed, a low, dangerous sound, and entered her hard, eliciting a scream from her that she tried to muffle with her hand.

“Tell me more about her,” he said, his movements aggressive, almost punishing. “It makes me even angrier.”

“She… oh, fuck… she thinks you’re a saint,” Yuna managed to say between moans, her nails scratching the sink. “While you’re here fucking me like an animal.”

He pulled her hair again, forcing her to look at the mirror.

“Look at your face, Yuna. That’s what you really are. A worthless slut.”

She smiled at her reflection, her lips trembling and her eyes glazed over.

“And you love it, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t come running every time I call.”

His pace got faster, his hands marking her fair skin with red. It was dirty, fast, and unromantic—just the way she liked it. When they were done, Yuna was panting, her blonde hair stuck to her sweaty face, her skirt wrinkled, and her panties on the floor. Heitor straightened up, glancing at her as he fastened his belt.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" he said, but his tone was more of a warning than a request.

Yuna laughed, picking up her torn panties and throwing them into her backpack.

— Relax, dog. I won't ruin my favorite toy. — She winked at him, already composing herself. — But next time, bring me an energy drink. This isn't free.

He shook his head, leaving without saying anything else. Yuna stood there for a second, fixing her hair in the broken mirror and smiling to herself. Hector was the kind of risk that was worth it — and she knew she would call him again, just to feel that adrenaline rush again.

What started as a few casual encounters in the abandoned bathrooms became an almost daily routine. He was addicted to her, and Yuna knew it — the way he grabbed her with those big hands, pulling her blond hair tightly and thrusting like it was the last day of his life, was all she needed to feel alive. They met every afternoon, sometimes even twice in the same day, in the same moldy bathroom, with the sound of her moans echoing off the cracked walls.

— Damn, Heitor, you're getting good at this — she said, panting, as he pressed her against the sink.

— Shut up and moan, you bitch — he replied, squeezing her neck the way she liked.

It was dirty, it was rough, and she loved every second of it. But what Yuna didn't know was that the secret was starting to leak. Lia, Heitor's good girlfriend, wasn't as dumb as she seemed. She had noticed the messages he deleted too quickly, the way he got nervous when Yuna showed up around. One day, she followed him to the abandoned block and heard everything — the moans, the slaps, the provocations. Lia kept quiet, but inside she was boiling. That blonde bitch was going to pay dearly.

The key moment came one sunny afternoon in the cafeteria. Yuna was sitting with Lia, pretending to be the perfect friend, while chewing on a snack with those full lips that everyone wanted to kiss. She tossed her blonde hair to the side and gave a sweet smile, the kind that didn't match the slut she was inside.

"Oh, Lia, you're so cute, you know?" Yuna said, tilting her head like a doll. "Heitor is lucky to have such a nice girlfriend. I could never be like that, I'm too... free, you know?" Lia smiled back, but her eyes were cold, almost cutting. She already knew everything — she had seen the two of them leaving the bathroom last week, Yuna adjusting her wrinkled skirt and Heitor with his belt still half open. But she wasn't going to give Yuna the pleasure of confronting her in front of everyone. Not yet.

"Yeah, Yuna, you're really... free," Lia replied, her voice too calm. "But sometimes freedom comes at a price, right?" Yuna laughed, thinking it was just a friendly chat.

— Sure, but I always find a way to hold others accountable, not myself. — She winked, getting up from the table with a sway that made half the cafeteria turn their heads. — See you later, beautiful!

Little did she know that Lia was already plotting. The good girl had a vengeful side that no one knew about. That same night, she called some guys from the gym class — some brutes who already had a reputation for not taking any nonsense lying down. The leader was Gael, a six-foot-tall closet with shaved hair and a lip piercing that gave him a mean look. Lia was direct with him:

— Yuna needs to be taught a lesson. She thinks she can walk all over everyone, but I want you guys to show her that she's not so untouchable.

Gael gave a crooked smile, scratching his chin.

— The blonde bitch, huh? I've seen her shaking her hips. What do you want us to do?

"Make her feel what I felt," Lia said, her eyes shining with anger. "But don't tell me the details. Just... put an end to her posing."

"Deal," Gael replied, already imagining what was going to happen. He called three more guys from the group, all as big as him, and started planning. Yuna was going to get a surprise, and it wasn't going to be the kind she could negotiate with a smile or a little favor.

In the meantime, Yuna went on with her life, whispering provocations in the ear of some random freshman in the hallway.

— If you give me some money, I'll let you look up my skirt for five seconds — she said, laughing as the boy blushed.

But she had no idea what was coming. Lia had turned the tables, and Gael's thugs were already watching her, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

The last few days on campus were full of buzz. A party at the dorm was on the way, and everyone knew it was going to be the event of the semester. The seniors were already stocking up on cheap beer and vodka, the amateur DJs were testing the speakers, and the drug dealers were on duty making sure there would be weed for everyone who wanted to get high. It was the kind of night that promised chaos, and Lia saw this as the perfect opportunity to put her plan into action. She was tired of pretending she didn't know about Heitor's escapades with Yuna, and that party was going to be the stage where the blonde slut would fall from her pedestal.

The day arrived, and the dorm turned into a hell of flashing lights and loud music. The electronic music was blasting the eardrums, the air was thick with weed smoke and the sour smell of spilled booze. College students danced like there was no tomorrow, some already making out in the dark corners, others sprawled on the couches with red eyes and a silly smile. It was the perfect environment for Lia's plan.

Yuna entered the party as if she were the queen of the whole damn thing. Her black dress was an attack: it clung to her slim, curvy body, very short, with a neckline that went down almost to her belly button and slits on the sides that showed off her slim waist and white thighs. Her blonde hair was straight, shining like liquid gold under the colored lights, and her red lips, painted with a scandalous lipstick, seemed to scream "catch me if you can". She started dancing in the middle of the crowd, her heels clicking on the floor, her hips shaking to a rhythm that made the guys drool and the girls roll their eyes.

“So, you idiots, who’s going to give me a drink today?” she shouted, throwing her hair back and doing a spin that lifted her dress enough to drive everyone crazy.

A guy with green hair, already half drunk, raised a glass of beer.

“I’ll give it to you, Yuna, but dance with me first!” She laughed, taking the glass and downing half of it at once, the liquid running down her chin on purpose.

“Dance with you?” She came closer, rubbing her body against him for a second before moving away. “Only if you learn how to move that skeleton, pretty boy.”

Lia was in the corner, watching everything with a glass of soda in her hand to hide it. She waited for the right moment and approached, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“Yuna, my favorite!” — she called, holding a bottle of vodka and a lit joint. — Let's party together today, have a sip with me!

Yuna turned to her, still shaking her hips, and took the bottle with a crooked smile.

“Lia, you at a party? You're turning into a person, huh!”

She took a long sip, the vodka burning her throat, and laughed. — Do you want to be a slut like me? Just ask for a lesson.

Lia laughed along, but her eyes were calculating every move. She passed the joint to Yuna.

“Who knows? Smoke it, relax with me.”

Yuna took a deep drag, exhaling the smoke slowly while her brown eyes sparkled.

“This is life, Lia. You should give up that saintly vibe more often.”

She took another sip of vodka, her head already starting to spin.

Lia didn't stop. She stayed there, filling Yuna with booze and weed as if it were a mission. After about thirty minutes, Yuna was laughing out loud, tripping on her heels and speaking more slurredly.

“Let’s play something different,” Lia said, holding her arm. “There’s a game in the back room. Are you up for it?”

Yuna, high and confident, tossed her hair back.

— Game? I'm the game, Lia. Take me there, I'll finish off these idiots.

Lia led her through the crowded hallway to a door in the back. Yuna still thought she was in charge, her dress riding up as she walked, the smile of someone who always came out on top. The room was cramped, with an old couch, empty cans on the table, and a strong smell of smoke. Gael and the thugs were already there, waiting, but Yuna didn't even notice the danger. Lia closed the door, and the click of the lock was lost in the loud music.

“Ready for the game, Yuna?” Lia asked, her tone colder.

Yuna fell onto the couch, crossing her legs and laughing.

“Sure, you idiot. What is it? Truth or dare? I win anything with my eyes closed.”

Lia took a step back.

“Let's see. These guys will show you what it's like.”

Yuna looked at the thugs and laughed again, still thinking she could fool everyone.

— You guys? Are you going to try to catch me? Come on, I can handle anything.

Lia left without saying anything else, leaving Yuna there, drunk, stoned and full of herself, while Gael and the others approached.

The private room was pitch black, with only the weak light from an old lamp casting shadows on the moldy walls. Yuna was sprawled on the couch, her torn black dress hanging from her body like a rag, her straight blonde hair falling over her sweaty face. She was still dizzy from the vodka and weed that Lia had slipped into her, but the crooked smile on her red lips showed that she still thought she was in charge. The four brutes — Gael, Ian, Luan and Andrew — were surrounding her, their eyes shining with a mixture of anger and lust that she had underestimated at first.

“So, you big guys, is this what you call a lesson?” Yuna said, her voice slurred but full of provocation. She crossed her legs, her dress riding up higher, and laughed. “You’re going to have to do better than that to impress me.” 

Gael, the six-foot tall man with the lip piercing, stepped forward and smiled a smile that made her stomach do a little knot—but she wasn’t going to let him see that. 

“You talk too much, blondie,” he said, his deep voice cutting through the air. “Let’s see if that mouth can handle the rest.” 

She laughed again, tossing her hair back in an exaggerated gesture. 

“Go ahead, big guy. I’ve dealt with guys bigger than you.” 

That’s when things changed. Gael unbuckled his belt with a snap, and when his pants fell off, Yuna blinked twice, her smile faltering for a second. His cock was huge—thick, hard, and with a throbbing vein that seemed more like a threat than an invitation. She swallowed hard, but tried to hide it by lifting her chin. 

— Okay, it's... reasonable — she muttered, but her voice was less firm.

Ian, the dark-haired man with the shaved head, chuckled softly and opened his pants too, revealing another monster that made her feline eyes widen a little. Luan, the tattooed blond, and Andrew, the skinny man with the wild look, followed suit, and suddenly Yuna was staring at four giant cocks, each one bigger than the last, all hard and ready for her. Her confidence began to crack like thin glass.

“Fuck, what's this?” she said, trying to laugh, but the sound came out nervous. “You're kidding, right?”

“Kidding?” Luan retorted, grabbing her hair tightly and pulling her head back. “You'll see who's kidding here.”

Before she could answer, Gael grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand, while the other tore the rest of her dress, leaving her in only her panties. Ian slapped her thigh, hard enough to leave a red mark, and she cried out, more in shock than pain.

“Hey, calm down, you sons of bitches!” she tried to pull away, her heart racing. “This isn’t fair!”

— Fair? — Andrew laughed, approaching with that crazy look. — You fucked Lia, now we fuck you. Simple.

Yuna struggled, but their strength was too much. Gael turned her face down on the couch, her face sinking into the stinky fabric as he ripped off her panties with a yank. She felt his cock brush against her ass, and the size of it made her tremble for the first time.

— Go slow, damn it! — she screamed, but her voice came out more like a request than an order.

— Slow? — Gael growled, thrusting in all at once with a force that drew a hoarse scream from her. He was too big, too aggressive, and she felt her entire body protest as he pumped without mercy.

Ian held her arms, keeping her in place, while Luan knelt in front of her, forcing his cock into her mouth.

— Suck it, bitch — he said, giving her a light slap to reinforce it. She tried to resist, but his size filled her mouth, and she gagged, her eyes watering.

Andrew and the other guy were on either side, their hands grabbing her breasts, squeezing them tightly as they laughed at the muffled moans she let out. It was an attack from all sides — Gael thrusting from behind, Luan from the front, and the other two marking her fair skin with scratches and slaps. Yuna lost her breath, her head spinning, her body struggling to get used to the invasion.

But then the alcohol and marijuana really started to take effect. The initial pain, the shock, everything started to mix together in a warm haze. Gael's cock, which before seemed to tear her in half, was now hitting a spot that made her legs tremble in a way she couldn't ignore. She moaned loudly, the sound muffled by Luan's cock, and the guys noticed the change.

— Look, the bitch is enjoying it — Ian said, laughing as he slapped her ass again.

Yuna tried to deny it, but her body didn't lie. Her moans were getting longer, hoarser, and she started moving her hips against Gael, almost without wanting to. The pleasure was coming in waves, mixed with the adrenaline and the confusion of the drink.

“You... bastards…” she managed to mumble, but her tone was weaker, almost surrendered.

Luan pulled her hair, forcing her to look at him as he thrust into her mouth.

“That's it, moan for us. Show us what you're really like.”

Gael sped up, each thrust making the couch creak, and Yuna felt a heat rising through her body, the alcohol transforming their aggression into an ecstasy she hadn't expected. Andrew switched places with Luan, thrusting his cock into her mouth while Luan moved back, and Ian took Gael's place. It was a brutal rotation, but she was starting to lose herself in it, her eyes glazed over, her lips trembling, her body surrendering to the rhythm.

“Fuck, you guys… you’re animals…” she moaned between one gasp and another, but now there was a sparkle in her feline eyes, a twisted pleasure that she could no longer hide.

When Gael came back to fuck her again, she was already arching her back, her moans echoing in the room as the four of them used her nonstop. The alcohol had turned everything upside down—what started as a lesson for her turned into a chaos of pleasure that she no longer knew how to stop.

Yuna was in the middle of the hurricane, her body sweaty and trembling, her blond hair stuck to her face as the four brutes—Gael, Ian, Luan, and Andrew—continued their attack. She was already dizzy, the alcohol and marijuana transforming the whole thing into a crazy mix of pain and excitement. The couch creaked with each thrust, and her moans were coming out hoarse, almost uncontrollable. But the guys weren't satisfied yet — they wanted more, and the next step would break her in a way she never imagined.

Gael, the big guy with the lip piercing, pulled her by the hips, turning her face down again. His cock, still hard and wet, brushed against her ass, and Yuna laughed, thinking it was just another round.

— You want to do it again, big guy? — she said, her voice shaking but trying to keep her composure. — Go for it, I can handle it.

He gave a crooked smile, holding her buttocks with his big hands and spreading her open without ceremony.

— You think you've seen it all, huh, bitch? — he growled, spitting on his hand and rubbing it on his cock. — Let's see how you deal with that virgin ass of yours.

Yuna froze, her feline eyes widening in fear for the first real time.

— Wait, what?! — she screamed, trying to turn around, but Ian grabbed her wrists and pinned them against the couch. — No, no, I've never done that, you sickos! Get out of here!

Luan, the tattooed blond, laughed out loud and slapped her ass hard, the sound echoing in the room.

— Relax, blondie. Everyone has a first time. And yours will be with us.

She struggled, her heart racing, fear running up her spine as Gael positioned his cock at the entrance of her asshole. It was too big, too thick, and she knew it was going to hurt like hell.

“Please, no, not that!” she begged, her voice coming out higher, almost tearful. “I’ll do anything else, but not that!”

“Anything?” Andrew, the skinny guy with the wild look, came closer, rubbing his cock in her face. “Then suck here while he fucks you, you whore.”

Gael didn’t wait for an answer. He forced his way in, the head of his cock pushing against her tight asshole, and Yuna screamed loudly, her entire body tensing with the pain. It was like a hot iron was ripping her in half, the pressure unbearable as he tried to force his way in.

“Fuck, it’s so fucking tight!” Gael grunted, gripping her hips tighter. “Relax your ass, bitch, or it’ll be worse.” — It hurts, you sons of bitches! — Yuna screamed, her nails scratching the couch, tears streaming down her eyes as she tried to pull away. — Stop, I can't take it!

Ian laughed, keeping her arms pinned.

— Can't take it? Didn't you rule everyone? Now cry, go on.

He pushed in further, and the entrance was hell — her virgin ass resisted, but his cock was relentless. After a few seconds of struggling, the head passed, and Yuna gave a hoarse scream, her body shaking as he forced the rest of it inside. The pain was raw, throbbing, and she felt every inch of that monster stretching her like never before.

— It's fucking tearing me apart! — she moaned, her voice broken, her face buried in the couch as tears wet the fabric. — Take it off, please!

— Take it off? — Gael laughed, starting to move slowly, each movement eliciting a moan of pain from her. — You're going to ask for more, just wait.

Luan grabbed her hair, pulling her head back and shoving his cock in her mouth again.

— Cry with this in your mouth, bitch. Swallow while he fucks your ass.

She choked, Luan's cock filling her throat as Gael thrust into her ass, the pain mixing with the heat of the alcohol that was still running through her veins. It was too much—her body was in shock, but little by little, something started to change. The pain, which at first was unbearable, was mixed with a strange sensation, a tingling that went up her legs and made her tremble in a different way.

— Fuck, she's starting to like it—Ian said, laughing as he let go of her wrists to grab her breasts, squeezing her nipples hard.— Look how her ass is blinking now.

Yuna moaned loudly, the sound muffled by Luan's cock, and her body, almost unintentionally, began to relax. The alcohol was softening her resistance, and Gael's cock, which had previously felt like a punishment, now hit a spot inside her that sent shocks of pleasure through her body.

"You... bastards..." she murmured, but her voice was weaker, her hips moving a little against him.

"That's it, bitch, grind on that cock," Gael said, slapping her ass that made her scream again, but this time with a different tone. He sped up, thrusting deeper, her asshole slowly giving in as she moaned louder.

Andrew switched places with Luan, shoving his cock in her mouth while Luan moved back, waiting for his turn.

"My cock wants a piece of that blonde too," Luan said, rubbing his cock against her ass as Gael pulled out.

When Luan entered, there was another wave of pain — his cock was thicker than Gael's, and her already sensitive asshole protested again.

"Fuck, it won't fit!" Yuna screamed, but the scream turned into a long moan when he forced it all inside, stretching her even more.

"Yes, it will fit, you whore," Luan growled, thrusting hard while holding her hair like a rein. "You're going to swallow every inch."

The pain was there, raw and throbbing, but the pleasure was growing with it, the alcohol turning everything into a hot mess. Yuna felt her asshole burning, but also throbbing, her body getting used to the invasion while the guys laughed and cursed her. Ian was next, thrusting with a brutality that made her see stars, and Andrew finished the round, his cock thinner but faster, pounding deep while she moaned nonstop.

"It feels good now, right, bitch?" — Andrew said, slapping her face as he thrust. — Tell her you want more!

— I… fuck… want… — Yuna moaned, the words coming out almost unintentionally, her body surrendered, her asshole broken but throbbing with pleasure.

They continued, taking turns in her ass, each one more aggressive than the other, until she no longer knew where the pain began and the excitement ended. The couch was soaked in sweat, her blonde hair a mess, and her moans filled the room as the four of them used her without mercy.

Yuna was at her limit, her body sweaty and marked, her virgin asshole now broken by the huge cocks of Gael, Ian, Luan and Andrew. The couch creaked as if it was going to fall apart, and her moans were coming out hoarse, uncontrolled, as the four brutes thrusted without stopping. She had already given in to the mix of pain and pleasure, the alcohol and marijuana making her head soft, but now things were going to another level — she was about to break for good.

Gael was back in her ass, his thick cock stretching her to the max as he held her hips with brute force.

“Fuck, this ass is swallowing everything now,” he grunted, thrusting deep, each thrust making her body tremble. “You like this, don’t you, you slut?”

Yuna tried to respond, but all she could come out was a loud moan, her mouth half open as Andrew shoved his cock down her throat again.

“Tell me, bitch!” Andrew said, slapping her face so hard that her red lips bled a little. “Tell me you love being fucked like this!”

She choked, her cat-like eyes glazed over, tears streaming down her face as Andrew’s cock hit the back of her throat.

— I… love… — she managed to murmur, her voice almost fading, her body moving on its own against Gael.

Luan laughed, grabbing her breasts and squeezing her nipples hard while Ian reached between her legs, rubbing her clit with rough fingers.

“Look at this bitch, she’s dripping,” Ian said, laughing as his fingers got wet. “You were born for this, blondie.”

Yuna’s head was spinning, the pleasure coming in waves so strong that she couldn’t think straight anymore. Her ass was burning, her body was aching, but every thrust, every slap, every curse was pushing her to a place of no return. She started to laugh, a low, broken sound, her eyes unfocused as the mind break hit her hard.

“That… fuck me… break me…” she moaned, the words coming out unfiltered, her voice shaking with ecstasy. “More… fuck, more!”

The guys exchanged glances, surprised for a second, but soon they took advantage. Gael thrust faster, his cock throbbing inside her asshole as he cursed:

— See, you idiots? She's asking for it! Let's finish this whore once and for all!

Luan switched places with Andrew, shoving his thick cock in her mouth while Andrew went for her ass, thrusting at an insane speed. Ian stood in front, rubbing his cock against her breasts while Gael held her in place. It was chaos—four huge cocks, hands everywhere, slapping and pulling hair, and Yuna in the middle, lost in a sea of ​​pleasure that had swallowed her sanity.

— Fuck, I'm going to cum in that ass! — Andrew yelled, his rhythm getting sloppy as he thrust deep, his cock throbbing.

— Then cum, damn it! — Gael replied, laughing as he held her hips so Andrew could finish.

Andrew gave one last loud moan, thrusting all the way in and cumming inside her ass, the heat of his cum filling her as she screamed, her body convulsing. He pulled out, his cock dripping, and Luan took his place, thrusting into her ass without even waiting.

"My turn, bitch," Luan said, his thick cock forcing its way in as Andrew's cum dripped down her thighs.

Yuna was beside herself, laughing and moaning at the same time, her eyes rolling back as the pleasure consumed her.

"Cum... cum in me..." she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, her body limp but still responding.

Luan thrust hard, her asshole already so broken that he could easily enter, and he came right after, filling her up again as he slapped her ass.

"Take it, you whore, swallow it all!" Ian was next, thrusting into her ass while Gael shoved his cock into her mouth, the two of them synchronizing their movements.

“Open your mouth, blondie,” Gael growled, grabbing her hair as he thrust into her throat. “I’m going to cum on your face.”

She obeyed, her mind broken, her mouth open as Gael came, hot cum running down her face, dripping onto her red lips and chin. Ian finished in her ass, the third to fill her from behind, and Yuna fell onto the couch, her body shaking, her asshole throbbing with the cum from all three.

Andrew, who had already cum, rubbed his half-pumped cock against her breasts, leaving a wet trail.

“Is it over, bitch?” he said, laughing as she moaned softly, almost fainting.

Yuna didn’t answer. She was slumped, her blonde hair a sticky mess, her face covered in cum, her asshole dripping as her body convulsed in spasms of pleasure. The mind break had hit her hard — she was no longer the confident Yuna, the bitch who ruled everything. She was just a broken body, lost in an ecstasy she never imagined.

The guys straightened up, laughing and slapping each other on the back.

"Mission accomplished, huh," Gael said, fastening his belt. "Tell Lia that she won't forget it any time soon." They left the room, leaving Yuna there, the sound of the party slowly returning to her ears as she tried to breathe, her body and mind in pieces.

Yuna lay sprawled on the couch for a time she couldn't even count. The noise of the party outside — the loud music, the laughter, the breaking of glasses — seemed to come from another world. Her body was a mess: her dress torn on the floor, her blond hair stuck to her face with sweat and cum, her fair skin marked by redness, scratches and slaps. Her asshole was still throbbing, sore and hot, the guys' cum dripping down her thighs as she tried to draw air into her lungs. Her head was empty, an echo of the mind break that had just happened, but little by little she came back to herself.

She stood up slowly, her legs wobbly, and grabbed what was left of her dress to cover her body. The broken mirror on the wall showed a Yuna she barely recognized — her feline eyes were sunken, her red lipstick smeared with blood and cum, her face pale but with a strange glow. She laughed, a low, hoarse sound, almost as if she couldn't believe what had happened.

— You sons of bitches… — she muttered to herself, her voice weak but with a new tone, somewhere between anger and fascination.

On campus, rumors began to spread the next morning. No one really knew what had happened in the private room, but everyone saw Yuna leaving the dorm with her dress torn, her hair messy and her walk a little crooked. Some said she had been humiliated, others that she had enjoyed every second of it. Lia heard the whispers and smiled, satisfied with her revenge, but unaware that she had awakened something in Yuna.

The blonde didn't disappear, as some expected. She returned to campus a few days later, wearing her usual short skirt, her red lips shining, but her gaze… her gaze was different. More dangerous, more aware. She still teased, still tossed her hair and laughed at the guys who drooled over her, but now there was a weight in her words, a shine that said she knew what could happen — and maybe even wanted it again. — Hey guys, who's buying me a drink tonight? — she said one afternoon, in the same tone as always, but with a smile that made the guys hesitate.

Yuna had changed. She wasn't just the confident bitch who manipulated everyone anymore. She had a broken side, but also a new side, a fire that the gangbang had lit. The campus whispered about her, the legend growing, and she let it. After all, the game had changed — and she was ready to play again, her way.

But not everything was resolved. As Yuna paraded through the courtyard, a pair of eyes followed her from afar, hidden among the students. It was Heitor, Lia's boyfriend, the guy who had started this whole mess. He had been quiet since the party, but his look wasn't one of guilt or regret — it was one of obsession. He knew what had happened to Yuna, he had heard the rumors, and something in him was burning to pull her back into the abyss. In his hand, a cell phone flashed with an unsent message: "We need to talk, blonde. I know what you've become." The game was far from over.

[flymetothexmoon]

Books + Cheap Thrills

Warning: Smut. Oral F!Receiving. Swearing. Cigarette Smoking.

Pairing: Established relationship with Seunghyun x F!Reader.

Authors Note: okay cuties... not the best smut i've ever written, but maybe hopefully not the worst smut you've ever read. this is a loong one~

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The apartment was quiet, and you hated to love it.

Your boyfriend, Seunghyun, was currently on "boys date night" as he called it, which in simplistic terms it meant that him and Ji-yong were out, persumbly drinking, and exchanging soft murmurs back and fourth about what was going on in their personal lives at the moment.

Ji-yong was about to embark on a world tour and Seunghyun had just finished his batch of delayed, solo promotional interviews for Squid Game season two.

That left you here, tangeld up in Seunghyun's white cotton duvet, in his apartment, book in hand, lights dim, and alone.

You did not mind being alone, in fact, the darker haired man actually tried to get you to go with him, insisting it would still be "boys date night" but "with a pretty girl tagging along" and he even went as far as pouting when you had told him no, a small smile tugging at your lips. He needed this; you needed this. You had always been known to be someone who does not meddle in other people's business and want to spend every second with the person you are with romantically.

Seunghyun use to be that person– before he met you. Now, he wanted to spend all of his free time with you; calling you while he had a quiet moment during his interviews, texting you silly little pictures of him giving you the finger heart... he loved it all, he loved you and that was no hushed secret between the two of you.

Your fingers slid across the spine of the book in your hand, admiring the texture. Slowly, you put the book on your chest for a moment, your shirt slowly rising at the sudden contact. You reached for your phone on your nightstand, gently tapping in a few numbers to unlock its contents, revealing you already had iMessages with Seunghyun pulled up.

Your Contact Name: have fun at boys date night. have a glass of wine for me :)

Almost instantly, your phone buzzed, indicating he had messaged you back; simple, sweet, and all you needed to allow yourself comfort in reading your book until he got home.

Moon Boy🌙🩶: 😘

A small smile spread across your lips as you put your phone back on your nightstand, leaving the ringer on just in case your boyfriend needed you in the night. You looked back at your book on your lap and to your outfit, realizing you might as well take advantage and make yourself comfortable.

Bringing yourself to your feet, you neatly placed your book on the duvet and your body found its way to the front of you and Seunghyun's shared closet, opening the double doors as you looked inside, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you puzzled what to wear. Finally, your hands grabbed a hanger with one of Seunghyun's hoodies wrapped around it, a small smile spreading across your lips.

You rid yourself of the jeans you were wearing and also disregarded of the white tank top as well. For a moment your eyes caught your reflection in the mirror Seunghyun had in his room; he had kept it next to his closet so he could decide what future outfits he thought looked best, the only addition was that he added little string lights across the mirror's edges so you could sit on the floor in front of it and do your makeup if you wanted.

A deep sigh escaped your lips as you looked at yourself in the mirror in just your bra and panties, your boyfriend's oversized hoodie draped around your arm. Some days were easier when it came to loving your body, and being with Seunghyun definitely improved your confidence, as it was no surprise that he worshiped you. You eventually decided to be a little riskier than usual as you placed his hoodie on the ground next to your feet, your hands unclasping your bra as you tossed the garment in the hamper nearest to you, quickly throwing on the hoodie that thankfully came before your knees... perfect.

You did a little twirl in front of the mirror, a low giggle escaping your vocal cords as you made your way back to bed, pulling the duvet up high on your chest, picking your book back up as you began to read.

Minutes to turned almost two hours and you were honestly invested. You reached over for your phone to check the time and for any messages; no messages from Seunghyun, and judging by the time across your home screen, it had officially been three hours since you had last seen him.

You, of course did not mind, you knew how badly he needed this— to be out with his best friend and allow the night to take over his insides, to let loose. You allowed yourself to get lost in your book again and before long, an audible gasp escaped your vocal cords as the book started to get steamy.

The book started to go into extensive detail– explaining everything from how the main character was receiving oral, to even how they were also fond of something the two of you shared... the fixation of another person's hands around your throat. Another low gasp escaped your mouth as you felt a sudden heat begin to radiate down below and suddenly... suddenly you kept one hand on the book, reading vigorously, easy to find out what happened next, and your free hand gripped the bottom of Seunghyun's hoodie, lifting it slightly so you were slightly exposed to the cold room, a shiver sending down your spine.

Blood began to form on your tongue as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, and the heat below your stomach was not enough to keep you warm as you quickly released your grip on your boyfriend's hoodie and reached over to your nightstand once again, slowly grazing your fingertips against the handle as you opened the drawer, removing what was hidden deep inside.

It was not like you were hiding necessarily what was deep in there, Seunghyun was even the one who bought you what was now wrapped around your free hand, he had bought it for you recently actually, knowning that the hours on the Squid Game set would be long and surely there would be times you would need him and he simply could not be there. "I do not want you to feel ashamed baby. We all do it. Just make sure to tell me whenever you do," he'd say.

Your hand gently moved up and down on the toy, imaging it was something different as your eyes closed. Wanting more, your eyes quickly shot open as you laid the toy on your chest as you grabbed your phone, quickly typing out a message to Seunghyun. It would've been easier said than done to just ask him to come home, but something in the way the main character acted in your book, so full of cheap thrills it made you decide to play a little game with him.

Your Contact Name: baby, no need to come home right away. my book just got to the good part. i have my toy 😋

You shifted on the bed, allowing your back to prop against the pillows behind you a little better as your mind began to drift into a place where Seunghyun was here, and you began to picture yourself like the main character in your book, where he had his hands firmly wrapped around your neck, his thumb slowly finding its way into your mouth as he pushed all of his body weight on top of y–....

Ding.

Embarrassed, you gathered your thoughts the best you could and read Seunghyun's message to you, which according to the time stamp, came in seconds after yours.

Moon Boy🌙🩶: Fuck. I'm coming home. Right now. You better wait for me. Gonna make it so you can't walk in the morning...

Challenge accepted.

Your Contact Name: heheh... and if i don't? is that a promise??

Another ding.

Moon Boy🌙🩶: No. It's a threat.

Your breath hitched. The two of you had sexted before, there were even times he had you on Facetime sprawled out for him and only him and Seunghyun would never openly admit it, but he loved that type of stuff.

You chose not to reply, opting to if anything, toggle the DND on your phone, figuring you would make him sweat a bit at the thought of you possibly not wanting it out for him. You knew exactly where him and Ji-yong were, you trusted them both, and Seunghyun told you their whole plan for the night. Not because you asked him to, but because he wanted to; he wanted you to know where he was going to be.

Realistically, given that Seunghyun does not drive, you figured it would take him at least 40 minutes to get to you. A murmured sigh escaped your local cords as you looked at to your phone again so you keep track of the time. You were about to hit the lock button when another text message dang in.

Moon Boy🌙🩶: I am going to take your silence as a sign that you understood or that you are being a very bad girl... Regardless of the outcome, I'll be home in 10. See you soon Princess.

The darker haired man always had a way with words, and that was one honestly one of the many reasons as to why you had fallen for him.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, desperate to feel something as you nodded your head, knowning he was unable to see your silent response to his message. Placing your phone back on your nightstand, you did it phone side down so you would not be tempted to message him back, despite the ongoing heat that was growing below your abdomen.

10 minutes sounded a lot better than 40 minutes as your spine slid down the pillows behind you. Slowly, you could feel your own hand sliding down your chest to your stomach to finally stopping right at the bottom of the oversized hoodie you chose to wear, your tiny hands began to scrunch at the fabric, causing it to wrinkle slightly against your now exposed skin. That morning you chose to wear something sexier than usual, and you were thankful, not because Seunghyun really cared what you wore, but it made you feel good.

The panties you chose wear black, lacy, and had a little red bow in the center to contrast the black of the loose fabric. You knew your boyfriend would appreciate them; one of the nights he was gone while filming and you two were on Facetime, during a breathy moment on his end, he had let it slip he always loved to see you in lace, and what it did to him.

You could find yourself almost slipping, just barely allowing your fingertips to grace against the fabric, getting a tease of what Seunghyun would soon enough feel for himself. You had not even touched yourself and you could feel your eyes glossing over as you shut them, trying your best to be the good girl Seunghyun wants you to be.

Before long, your eyes quickly shot open when you heard the front door open and the eager, muffled sound of your boyfriend saying goodnight to his friend echoed in your ears before the door slammed shut, making a shiver run down your spine.

Seunghyun's shoes were heard shortly after, the sound of them gently being hit against the wall as he tore them off his feet. He was close. You tried your best to move your body in a way so you were sprawled out and on display for him but still comfortable and grabbed your book, pretending like you had no idea how you looked and that you were invested in reading what was soon to hopefully become your reality as your teeth bit your bottom lip seductively.

It did not take long for the sound of the bedroom door swinging open to jolt you from your thoughts, still pretending like you were in the middle of reading.

Seunghyun had cleared his throat, his presence burning a hole in the middle of your chest– his was voice was so low it almost came out as a growl, or a demand, as he spoke into silence.

"You waited,"

It was getting harder and harder for you to play along as you bit your lip harder, feeling his presence slowly coming toward you like an animal coming to its pray. You felt the bed move, and in the corner of your eye you could see the duvet bunching at the bottom of the bed as he was on there with you, his body inching toward yours as his cologne from earlier began to fill your nose.

One of the number one questions that Seunghyun's fans, new and old, would ask is how he smells, and you can with confidence say that most days he smelt like a mixture of Marlboro Red cigarettes, sometimes a little fruity if he had some wine– which he definitely has, and his cologne was rich of Mahogany Teakwood.

You were waiting for him to say something, but he remained quiet, his palms now resting on either side of you as you felt his breath getting closer to yours, his long fingers slowly pushing the book down from your vision as he closed the gap between you, his lips barely giving you the time to kiss him back before they pulled away. His eyes were dark and glossed over, letting you know he was enjoying himself while out, and he was about to enjoy himself even more.

"I missed you. Judging by your texts, you missed me too, no? Or were you picturing the man in your book doing these things to you?" Before you could respond, Seunghyun had pushed his weight onto yours, earning a low gasp to come from your mouth. His face was still close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his teeth gently scraping little tiny love bites against the sensitive parts of your skin, his tongue gliding out of his mouth with ease as it slid across the areas where he was just nipping at you. "I missed you... No, it was all for you..."

Seunghyun's hips bucked against yours, a low growl escaping his own mouth as he nibbled down harder on you, murmuring sweet nothings in both Korean and English, the heat rising from down below to your cheeks as you began to find yourself attempting to push your body against his so he would get the hint to look down at you, his hoodie completely bunched up around your waist now as you could feel the friction of the lace hitting the fabric of his jeans.

"Mmm. What's this, princess? My hoodie?"

You nodded, eager to see what he would say next.

The taller man kept his position over your body, gently moving his way downward so he could really admire you. You could feel his body tense once his face stopped and was at eye level with you; his lips curved into the faintest smirk you'd ever seen, his eyes remaining at what was in front of him as he extended one of his hands, propping himself with only one now, as slid his middle finger down the front of your clothed folds, sending a shiver down your spine in the proces.

"You know what lace does to me baby..." Seunghyun kept gliding his finger down you, almost like he was trying to savor what the lace felt like against your skin. Quickly, his finger stopped, taking his thumb and pointer finger to clutch onto the little red bow between his fingers, a low chuckle escaping his vocal cords as you watched him shake his head– not in a dissapproving manner, God no, but amused.

Seunghyun was being awfully quiet after his comment about you knowing what lace did to him, the only sound in the room was the from the ceiling fan being so nice and the low hums coming from your boyfriend. You were about to say something when you soon felt the cold metal of Seunghyun's rings grace against your skin as your panties were quickly thrown gosh knows where.

"As much as I love how lace looks on you, I like it better off you. I am going to remind you who you belong to."

The next minute was a blur and you swore your eyes went hazy almost immediately as the sensation of a finger being instered into you, taking control of the decision making part of your brain. A low moan escaped your mouth as you wiggled slightly, allowing better access. You were able to somehow find the will power to grab a handful of Seunghyun's hair, his dark colored locks bleeding through the openings between your knuckles and earning an audible noise to escape his mouth.

Your reward?

A second digit being inserted as the first began to curl just right against you; the metal on his ring he chose to wear that night was cold, but against you, all you could feel was warmth, familiarity. It was not long before Seunghyun's mouth latched onto you like it was the last thing he ever wanted to taste. His fingers worked inside of you, syncing with the same movements of his tongue as you could feel him writing out the spelling of his name inside you.

His free hand settled on the lower inside of your hip, digging into the exposed flesh with his fingernails and leaving little tiny marks that only the two of you would be able to see and he knew that; he wanted you to look back on the markings he was leaving.

"M'm... You taste like strawberries..."

Seunghyun's voice was muffled as his lips parted just enough to make the strawberry comparison as his mouth continued to consume you, darting back and fourth between lapping up any part of you he could and allowing the taste of you to take control of his five senses, including even his nose that would occasionally bump into the lower part of your tummy with how quick his movements were, shaking his own head slightly in the process, too busy thinking about what it was like to be making out with a different part of you.

Your legs began tremble, your cheeks flushing the tiniest hue of red. Seunghyun could tell as his mouth left your pussy with the slightest popping effect, his face never fully leaving the sight of you, but his eyes looking up at you breathing so heavily, your hand still in his hair as he was the one who made you so low on oxygen, Seunghyun licking his own front and bottom lip to saver the taste of you, like he'd wake up and forget what it felt like to have his tongue so deep inside of you.

Just as quick as he removed his mouth, his fingers came out from you.

You hissed at the loss of contact, your brain slowly processing what had just happened.

If Seunghyun's neighbors did not hear anything at all that night and only heard your hiss, they would have thought a snake got loose in the apartment complex.

The bed shifted, and the mess of dark colored hair that was once in your hand was now left empty and balled into a tiny fist as you came to realize the man whose mouth was quite literally just devouring you like he'd never had pussy before in his life was now standing at the foot of your shared bed, one of his knees placed on top of the bed as you watched him unbuckle his belt, throwing the piece of leather to the floor with a loud clank from the belt buckle. Seunghyun's eyes were closed, and you could tell the way his fingers unzippped his dark wash jeans and popped the button open, he was teasing you, giving you the idea you knew he knew he was the one in control tonight.

Slowly, you moved from your original position on the bed and began to crawl towards him quietly, waiting needing to see him release himself to you. Once it finally happened and you were at eye level with his cock, your hand began to reach so you could at least try to repay him for what he made you feel earlier.

Smack.

Your hand was slowly met with the man in front of you gently hitting your hand with his palm, grabbing ahold of your wrist so you were forced to make eye contact, his darkened pupils were now very much open as they sized you up.

"Not so fast, Princess. You and I both know that I am the one suppose to be making you feel good; making you remember who you belong to. Got it?" Something triggered in your brain and you were able to do a small nod in respond. "Yes, baby... I got it..."

Seunghyun loved to be called baby. You remember one of the first times he told you how he really felt about the nickname, and in this moment, you found yourself remembering how he looked when he told you, the way his lips curved when he spoke and told you his feelings on the word, the way his glasses hung on his nose, and the way his little hairs stuck to his face with sweat at how nervous he felt in that moment.

"Actually, I do not even know who started saying that all Korean guys love being called 'oppa'. I guess it just depends on the person. As for me, I'd rather be called 'baby' or something like that."

Before you could even mention the sweet memory, your back was back against the bed and the nervous man in your memory was now hovering over you again, the look on his face not too different from the memory as you watched the way his lips were curved slightly and the way his little hairs were sticking to his face, the only difference really being that he did not have his glasses on and it was clear that instead of being nervous, he felt something else in this moment– lust.

Seunghyun's breathing began to unravel as the two of you made eye contact, and you could tell it was his way of silently making sure you wanted this. Any time you two were about to engage in sexual activity, even in the most obvious of times that you were okay, he would still silently ask.

That was all the darker hair man needed before you watched one of his hands gently grab ahold of himself, it did not take long as you watched his hand slowly move up and down his shaft; his eyes fluttering like little tiny butterflies as you felt his hips roll onto yours. His tip would slid over your core a few times, teasing, savoring, before it finally happened and you could feel your walls clenching and your hips being smacked into.

It never took long for you to quickly wrap your bodies together so they felt like one, your legs wrapping around his waist and with each thrust, you would attempt to push yourself onto him so he would be able to hit you deeper, which he happy obliged for. Your head had hit the bed against, quickly feeling Seunghyun's hand instead of fabric, quickly realizing that there were no pillows around, so he had used his hand in fear of you hitting your head.

Sex with Seunghyun definitely made you feel something, and if you to had to describe it to anyone, he was definitely the pleaser in the relationship. There were definitely times he loved to be babied, but he lived for the times to worship his partner or the person he was with– with each thrust, you could practically feel him edging inside of you, like he wanted this special night with you to last forever. Certain moments it really felt like your throat and pussy had came together and everything began to feel hightened.

You were sure the neighbors heard you two, the bed was most definitely moving, and your murmured moans were the soundtrack that Seunghyun could listen to all day, even wanting to sample them in upcoming music if you'd let him. His moans were quiet, but definitely there as he softly whispered things to you throughout the process.

"Fuck, Princess. You fit perfect. Like I was suppose to be the one taking care of you, of this pussy, for all my life... Such a gift."

Boy did it feel true. He fit perfect, and there was definitely never a time you did not feel all of him inside of you. One of your hands reached up, wrapping around his throat as your thumb glid across his enlarged Adam's Apple, a smirk toying on your face as his thrusts began to slow down and you could feel his vocal cords tense around you, giving a playful squeeze.

"Do your friends know you like to be choked, baby? Do they know how it makes your dick twitch? Feels so good..." Seunghyun did not respond right away, but you could feel how his body reacted to praise, somehow thrusting even deeper inside of you by the end of the comment, his hips bucking hard against yours.

"You're gonna make me cum if you do keep saying that kind of stuff. Is that what you want?"

Your hand loosened against his throat, your thumb still drawing little circles against him as you blinked innocently, your head tilting slightly so your eyes looked deep into his.

"I dare you to. And that's a threat, not a promise"

That was all the man grinding his hips into yours needed to hear before you could feel him releasing inside of you, filling you. His uneven breaths were goddamn art for your ears when you slowly felt him pull out of you, rolling to his side of the bed. His uneven breaths were still playing in your ears when you felt him nudge you, offering you a cigarette with one already in his mouth.

You happily took one, as he lit them both for you and propped himself up so he was sitting up more, his eyes never once leaving yours as Seunghyun took a single hit, smoke circling the the two of you for a moment.

"If all your romance books involve cheap thrills and rough sex I might have to start reading them myself..."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[bitchyglitterkoala]

‘𝐄𝐌 𝐅𝐈𝐀𝐓 𝟓𝟎𝟎 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒 🚗

plot! ⋆𐙚₊ : you really wanted to get your neighbor’s attention. you’ve tried everything as far as ruining your own car so riki could help a damsel in distress. after all, boys love helping pretty girls in trouble. ♡

genre! ⋆𐙚₊: fluff

warnings! ⋆𐙚₊: swearing ; smoking ; argument : suggestive themes ; skin ship; kissing ; probably more

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!

───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ─── ───୨ৎ───

It was a bad night. Really bad night.

The whole time you were supposed to be sleeping you couldn’t help but squirm like a child in your bed, with sweat dripping from your forehead to your stomach.

Your eyes were blurry and mind hazy, it was so hot, too hot. Your red cheeks were burning so much it felt you had a fever. It might be an exaggeration, but closest thing you could link your situation to was a cat in heat.

How can you blame yourself? You’ve been working so hard, switching between school, work and money struggles.. Life was so difficult on you, and your body was begging, pleading and screaming for a pause, a relief.

At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. If you were actually frank with yourself, the truth would be that your neighbor has been making you crazy for months.

He’s new to the apartment, and only moved in four months ago. The man is tall, slightly tan.. He wears comfortable clothes like sweatpants and hoodies like a loser who doesn’t have a job. His gaze is sharp and lips plump, and the best of all, he had biceps. Biceps you’ve been dreaming about getting buried in ever since you’ve seen them. You see him practically everyday, yet you can not do the first move. It’s like your brain is stopping you from any kind of embarrassing situations, ever since Caleb has dumped you on message.

Does life really have to be like this? Why can’t you be a free confident and independent woman who faces challenges in no fear.

You needed a plan, a clever plan.

For a week, your mind has been planning the perfect “unfailable” and smart trap to get that man in your pants. There was no room for any romance, you were too busy to get your heart broken again, so hooking up with your wet dream is the best solution.

Not long ago you’ve seen him working on a car, like he was fixing it. Eventually you’ve thought about accidentally on purpose break some things here and there with your car.

During the night, you cut some wires, played with the motor and poured out the oil to throw it in the bin, something you absolutely regret by now. But today is the day, and you’ve been getting ready since 5 AM to put on the best show.

You know your neighbor comes out of his apartment everyday to smoke a cigarette in the parking at exactly 7:12, which made his ‘unemployed junkie’ allegations even worse.

You’ve been waiting in your car for at least thirty minutes for him to come out of his cave and have his smoke break. Once you finally see him, you feel your heart skipping a beat, your cheeks reddening and your hands sweating.

“Okay Y/N, you got this.”

Before beginning your plan, you grab your makeup bag to powder you face and perfume your skin with some cheap Britney Spears perfume you bought at the dollar store, hoping to smell heavenly.

“Oh no! Not today please! I’m at my last warning!” you whine as you put on your best performance, thanks to these drama classes your mom forced you to take back in high school.

“I can’t be late again!” you sigh as you hit on your steering wheel.

A smirk can’t help but appear on your face when you see him approaching from the corner of your eye.

“A problem miss?” the giant man asks, his cigarette still in his hand.

“My stupid car.. I have a very important meeting today and I’m on my last warning. If I’m late again my boss is going to kill me!” you cry, with your exaggerated feminine voice.

The man raises his eyebrows and tilts his head to check the label of your car. “A fiat 500 huh?”You look up at him acting confused.

“Yeah.. why..?” you mumble in a shaky voice, like you’re about to cry. “These cars are known to be trash. No wonder it’s not working.” he replies, getting comfortable and resting his arm on the edge of your window.

“I didn’t know, now I have to call the garage and use my savings for the holidays to drive again..” you sigh, looking down at your bare thighs, thanks to this pink short ass skirt.

“I mean.. I can still check what’s wrong and do some things here and there.” the man shrugs, looking so unbothered with his hood on.

“Really? Thank goodness. Your name?”

“Uh.. I’m Riki. Do you mind getting out of the car? You can go home and call your boss while I take care of your ‘car’.” How rude! What does he mean ‘going home’! He’s completely ruining her plans.

“Y-yeah..” you stutter in embarrassment. It’s like no matter what you do, shame is not something you can escape. You get out of the car, hand him the keys and walk off to your apartment. The sound of your heels clicking resonating in your mind, fading in with the loud insults your own mind is making.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

It’s been approximately 2 hours since Riki has been toying on your car. You didn’t think you would cause so much damage and you’re actually starting to regret destroying your car yesterday night. But you can’t be left in defeat, no, not this time. Luckily, you baked some cookies during the time he was fixing your car, and now decided to try approaching him again.

Once you come down to the parking you see your neighbor still fixing your car. To your surprise, the man is shirtless, with his skin is glistening, wiping off his sweat with his hand . You couldn’t tell if you were getting horny from how amazing his body looked, or icky from how cliché this scene looked. You wanted to thank global warming for absolutely destroying our climate, and making a day in the middle of April, in London, as hot as a summer day in Morocco.

“Water?” you say as you walk to him with the plate of cookies in your hand, a fresh bottle of water in the other, and a soft smile on your face.

“I’d love to, dear.” Riki breathes through his open mouth because of the heat. He grabs the water bottle and mutters a little “thanks”, before chugging the water down, until the bottle is left with a small amount. Gently, he pours down the cold water on his shoulders while speaking. “Your car was an absolute mess. Are you sure you don’t have a stalker or an enemy who tried to sabotage you? Because this, is clearly made by a human.”

“Uhuh..” you nod stupidly, not focusing on any words coming out of his mouth. The sight you were given was God sent. You focused on every single detail of his upper body. His jawline is sharp, his shoulders broad, his arms big and his abs lean. God you wish you could just-

“Miss? You listening?” he stops your thoughts right away.

“Uh.. no. Is it fixed now?” you respond honestly after recollecting your thoughts.

“Should be.” Riki opens the door and sits on the driver’s seat. He turns on the engine and your car starts roaring like a lion again. (Its fiat, of course it does not..)

You clap your hands and jump on your feet. “Yay! Finally!”

As you jump in excitement, you can’t miss the way Riki smirks seeing you happy over his work.

He turns off the engine and gets out of the car. “Here, I baked you cookies while you were fixing it.” you say, extending your arms so he can grab a cookie. The man smiles and grabs the plate, he looks so proud, like a kid who got rewarded after doing homework.

“Oh please don’t stay there.. You’re probably tired. I’ll cook you some roasted chicken.”

Before he can say anything, you grab his arm and drag him into your appartement.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Careful it’s hot.” you warn him before putting your chicken on the table. You take off your gloves and apron, before taking a seat. “Bon appétit.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do all that…” he hesitates.

“Y/N, it’s Y/N. Don’t be silly, if it wasn’t you who helped me I’d probably lose 500 bucks.”

Riki looks at you with a confused look on his face, while he devours the chicken. “What?” you giggle, thinking he’s checking you out.

“I don’t want to be mean but, that won’t be free Y/N.”

Your body freezes and so does your mind, taking a few seconds before processing what he just said.

Son of a bitch! So your hot neighbor’s not only a jobless loser, he’s a scammer! No wonder he’s always fixing all the cars in the parking. “Motherfucker..” you accidentally let out. “Why didn’t you just tell you’d charge me?! If I knew, I would’ve not let you fix my car!”

His eyes widen, with his mouth and cheeks still full of chicken. “Woah there.. No need to get in this state miss. I don’t know what you were expecting.”

As your temper rises you get up and put your fists on your hips. “Expecting what? I don’t know.. fucking.. gentleman behavior? A real man would do this for free! I baked you cookies, and even made you chicken, and now you want me to pay you?!”

“I’m just charging 150! How do you want me to live out there if I don’t get paid!” the man raises his voice as well, creating a symphony of excuses and blames.

“150?” you laugh, “If I knew you’d charge me even a dollar I wouldn’t have sabotaged my car.”

Riki frowns, flabbergasted. “You did what?”

As your own words echoed in your mind, you slowly realize the big mistake you just did. You clear your throat and regain your composure. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have any money to give you.” you respond calmly.

“Then how the hell are you supposed to pay me?”

Jackpot. This stupid man doesn’t even what he got himself into. You tilt your head and walk closer to him. “Maybe not money, but I could give you something else..” you mutter, trailing your pink nails on his skin, giving him goosebumps.

He slowly looks down at your hand then back at you, and the mischievous smile you have on your face. You can see his cheeks slightly blushing and his breath rising, but your anticipation reveals to be wrong when the man opens his mouth to speak.

“Sorry but I’m not into this miss, you need to pay me.”

“Won’t you just shut up already?”

You suddenly grab his face and smash your lips against him, making his eyes widen again before he kisses your lips back. You jump onto him, and instinctively he grabs your hips to carry your small body, all while trying to not break the kiss. He walks you through the apartment, searching for your room while trying very hard not to break the kiss and ruin the moment.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You have him laid down on your bed, groaning and breathing heavily as his hands grope your cheeks, trying to press you onto his crotch.

“Arms up..” he whispers with a dominant tone, hiding his desperation.

You oblige and once your arms are up, he grabs the hem of your top and takes it off for you. Your top didn’t really leave anything to imagination, but seeing your bare breasts has his blood boiling and pumping. He leans your torso down into his face with his cold hands on the small of your back, and begins to nibble on your chest. You can’t help but let out little whimpers and giggles, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Why you laughing?” he asks, in a deep voice, you can practically hear him growl.

“Because you think you’re in control.”

With no explanation, you turn around so your back faces him and get in all fours. You gently pull the hem of your skirt down until it’s completely off.

Riki, despite his want to be the dominant one here, can’t help but blush seeing you strip.

You gently tug the elastic of your underwear and slowly slide it down, until you’re completely bare. His breath hitches, and his chest keeps heaving, he’s hot, needy and about to burst if he doesn’t get to touch you in the next seconds. Eventually he grabs your cheeks again, trying to pull you in, but you stop him, slapping his hands off.

“What.. what are you-“

“Lay all the way down.” you say in a serious tone, facing him again.

He doesn’t want to obey, but does so anyway, too excited to discover what you’re about to do to fight back.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Needless to say what happened next. Your hook-up session ended up with cuddles and kisses on your bed. You both are naked, holding onto each other, despite the sweat sticking on your bodies.

He smokes a cigarette while staring at the rain violently hitting the window and the trees shaking. The weather went from a burning sun to a tempest, which reminds Riki how much time he spent in here already.

“Seems like you’re stuck with me now.” you say, looking at his detailed features with your doe eyes.

“Couldn’t spend my day in a better way.” he smiles before gently pressing a kiss on your forehead. “..A-are you going to pay me though?”

You roll your eyes and wrap your arms tighter around him. “Silly boy..” you whisper, inhaling the smell of his body to seek comfort.

You too, couldn’t spend your day in a better way.

I definitely wrote a smut part for this but got shy and scrapped it lol.

[violetarks]

bump into things, like someone in love!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: gojo satoru

summary: shoko and geto have noticed that gojo has become more... clumsy around one of the underclassman, and take it into their own hands to solve that problem.

warnings: afab! reader, she/her pronouns used, y/n is a bit oblivious lmao

shoko lights her cigarette, eyes on her best friends playing basketball on their break. satoru's glasses lay on her nose, suguru's jacket next to her. suguru was currently up five points, but satoru was slowly closing in. they only had a few more minutes until their break ended and they would have to go to class, and satoru was dead set on winning.

after a successful lay-up, satoru begins to whistle, "ya' losin' it, suguru!"

suguru passes the ball to satoru passed the three-point line, rolling his eyes. "you're just lucky, satoru." he huffs out, smiling.

"good job, satoru!" shoko lazily calls, grinning at his boosted ego.

satoru dribbles the ball a few times, now only three points away. as the two play around, you walk up to shoko on the bench, carrying your weapon's case, greeting your friend, "good morning, shoko. what's up?"

she glances over to you, smile on her face again. "hey, y/n. nothin', just watching them play. you got training soon?"

"yeah, yaga asked see yuu, kento and i on the field. he wants to see how we've been progressing." you say, fixing your collar. you glance towards the boys. "they're pretty good, huh?"

she nods her head, taking the cigarette out of her mouth to blow smoke away from you. she then calls out, leg over her knee, "suguru, satoru! look who's here!"

suguru turns to you briefly, sporting his calming nature and smiling gently. "morning, y/n!" he calls, turning his attention back to satoru, who's turning his head hastily to you.

"hey..." he mumbles, giving suguru the chance to steal the ball and shoot a three, effectively winning the game. satoru glares at his best friend. "hey! cheap shot!"

"pay attention next time, satoru." suguru jokes, catching the ball as the bell rings. he collects himself, walking towards shoko and you. satoru dejectedly follows after, crossed arms.

shoko tosses the boys their things before standing up. you hum out, jutting a thumb to the field as satoru and suguru came closer, "actually, principal yaga asked me to bring you guys. somethin' about an examination?"

"oh right, thanks." suguru says, feeling satoru standing behind him, watching from over his shoulder. he steps to the side, raising a brow. "what are you doing?"

"n—nothin'..." satoru replies, hands in his pockets as he looks away, sunglasses over his eyes. "hey, uh, y/n, how was your break?"

you blink at him, offering your kindest smile that makes his heart pound. "it was good, i spent the whole time dragging kento with yuu and i around for lunch." you say, shrugging your shoulders, "thanks for asking, satoru."

"yeah." he replies, clearing his throat.

shoko amd you begin to walk towards the field, where both nanami and haibara are waiting with their weapons. yaga stood by, talking to them. meanwhile, suguru squints at his best friend.

"what's up with you?" he whispers out, elbowing satoru, "you're acting weird."

"no i'm not." satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes. he tries to look away all nonchalant, but fails.

"is it y/n?" suguru asks, watching how you and shoko talk amongst each other. satoru watches as well. "did you do something to her?"

"you think i did somethin'?" satoru gasps in disbelief. suguru smiles. "why is that your first guess?"

"oi, y/n!" suguru calls, making satoru punch his shoulder harshly. you turn to them. "did satoru do something to upset you?"

satoru wants to destroy suguru after he says that, feeling as if his world is coming crashing down. you raise a brow and shake your head slowly, unsure of why he was asking.

"'course not." you reply, falling into step beside satoru. shoko taps her cigarette as suguru nudges her elbow. "why do you ask?"

"satoru acting strange to you?" he goes on.

"well, he did smash the flower pot yuu gave me when he walked me to my dorm." you explain, "but its fine, i ended up getting a new one."

satoru cringes at the memory of last week, and how you looked upset at the plant you were growing. he hastily bought you more seeds and you accepted them gracefully.

"is that so?" suguru mumbles out quietly, side-eying his best friend. satoru looks at the ground.

it isn't long until you reach your destination and the lesson starts. when it's your turn to go up against nanami, satoru watches you intensely. he watches your every move, and how you maneuver around the field with your weapon. you and nanami are evenly matched at this point, just as you both are with haibara.

"what do you think of the them?" yaga asks his older students.

"they're so cute." shoko chuckles, watching how haibara cheers the both of you on from the sidelines.

"they'll start going on solo missions soon." suguru states, leaning back as he sits down on the step. he glances at satoru. "you're invested."

"yeah? so what?" the white-haired male scoffs, crossing his arms, "i'm just watching."

"watching y/n?" suguru giggles under his breath.

"i am not watching y/n!"

he says that a little too loud. so loud that you instinctively turn to look at them as your name is called, and nanami sees his opening.

the match ends with him getting the slip on you after that.

you sulk back to the seats with your opponent in front of you. satoru blinks and stands up, jogging to meet you halfway.

"y/n! i'm sorry, i didn't mean to, uh, distract you..." he tells you, waving his handswith his apology. you look back at him, pout still on your lips. he falters, dropping his hands. "you... were still great out there."

"ah, thanks, satoru." you sigh, rubbing your shoulder as you sit down beside him with suguru on his other side.

satoru is kicking himself for making you lose your match, but suguru can't help buck snicker at it.

later, class has ended and its time for missions. everyone gathers in one of the classrooms, yaga standing at the front.

"suguru and nanami." he reads out, "you two are heading to a construction site in the south. take these reports and head off as soon as possible."

nanami takes them from the teacher's hands and shows suguru. the older boy reads it, eyes suddenly looking towards his best friend.

"good luck on your mission, satoru!" he chimes, smirking at satoru's red face. his friend flips him off in return.

nanami follows after geto shortly, leaving the room.

yaga clears his throat, "haibara, you'll be visiting the kyoto school to check in with the teachers there. they've requested the help of our school to deal with some missing cursed weapons."

haibara nods his head, fixing his uniform as he stands up.

"take l/n with you." yaga adds on.

you stand up as well, smiling at haibara and reading the report together. satoru blinks, watching as haibara nudges against you to get closer, letting you see the papers easier. he clicks his tongue. 'bad luck...'

"shoko, satoru. you'll be going to visit a high school south of here. suspected of harbouring grade 1 curses and holding some students hostage." yaga explains, but satoru keeps looking at you, "we don't known how many have been injured. make haste."

satoru makes his way to the exit when shoko holds up her hand. "actually, can i go with haibara? utahime and i have some things to discuss." she explains.

yaga, not looking too bothered by the idea, responds, "that's fine by me. haibara and shoko go to kyoto, and l/n and satoru."

shoko sends a sly wink to her friend, making satoru look away with furrowed brows. those two were always scheming! but he couldn't help but feel grateful, now being able to sit beside you on the train.

"after this, do you want to get dinner?" you ask him, looking down at your phone. satoru blinks at you. "it shouldn't take long since you're here, right? so i say we go to that thai place shoko mentioned."

"you wanna go with me?" his voice cracks as he points at himself. he blinks behind his glasses and you chuckle, making his face burn with embarrassment.

"of course with you, satoru. shoko told me that you enjoyed that place, so we might as well go after we're done." you reply, tilting your head, "and you're my favourite senior, after all."

he swears he's unable to focus the rest of the day. he's sloppy when taking down that high-level curse, and you have to snap him out of it a few times by calling his name. hell, you saved him twice when he mindlessly attacking, his mind doing re-runs of you telling him he was your favourite senior.

"satoru!" you shout, deflecting an attack by the curse that was going to hit him, hard. you hold your weapon in one hand, and grasp satoru's uniform front with the other, keeping him from falling off the ledge. you turn your head back to him, breathless. "c'mon, man! focus!"

"ah, i'm... sorry." he says, tracing your features in the sunset, "right! i've got this!"

you pull him up and look over to the scared high school students you saved. they're on the football field, protected by your cursed technique from any fighting outside.

truthfully, you didn't understand why he was off his game today. you've seen him fight before, you've heard all the stories. the almighty gojo satoru. here he was, tripping over his feet.

you decide to talk to him about it after, when the mission is done and you've sent your report back to yaga through a jujutsu worker. at dinner, it's an all you can eat and you snd satoru reserve a booth for yourselves. you sit across from each other (satoru thinks that sitting next to you would cause his heart to burst).

"satoru..." you begin, looking down at your food. he glanced up from his. "do you have a problem with me?"

he stalls, tilting his head. the light above you both illuminates his blush. "no, why do you think that?"

"because suguru is right. you do act differently around me." you explain, "you're always nice to me, satoru. but if you don't like me, you can just say so."

satoru mentally curses at suguru. the guy was putting ideas in your head to get him to confess! how could he play so much with your (non-existent) relationship?

"no! no, i don't have any problem with you." he is quick to react, reaching out to place his hand gently on top of yours, "it's the opposite, y/n... i like you. a lot."

"yeah? that's a relief." you sigh out, smiling at him, "i thought that maybe—"

"y/n, i really like you." he states, gathering all the courage possible to express himself. you stop yourself, staring at him. "i have for a while now... and i promise i'm not making it up, i'm just really bad at saying what i want to say."

"satoru..." you say, feeling his hand shiver on top of yours. you smile, turning your palm and gently holding his hand. "it's okay, i understand. i like you too."

"y—yeah?" he mutters, unable to hide his smile.

"yeah. you're always kind to me. and you've always given me souveniers from your missions out of town." you explain, satoru's heart racing, "i know it's you who leaves them at my dorm."

he hides his face in his other hand, uncontrollable blush on his face. "ah, i knew i should've just told suguru to give 'em to you..." he groans, holding his head in now both of his hands on the table.

you chuckle, standing up and leaning forward, pushing his silky hair back and pressing a warm and gentle kiss to his forehead. he freezes once your pull away, looking back at you from the top of his glasses.

"you're sweet, satoru." you say, leaving to the cashier to pay for the both of you.

satoru leans his chin on his palm, his whole face burning. he'd have to thank his friends, they were helpful even though they were so so annoying.

and when he gets back to school, he does just that. he barges into suguru's room where he and shoko are playing on his gaming console, as its wednesday night and its tradition to go to his room to play a few rounds before they head to sleep.

"you two!" he shouts, pointing accusingly, "you two meddlers! you two... monsters!"

"i take it the date went well." suguru says, pausing the game.

"date! date! it was a date!" satoru claims, falling back onto the bed behind them. the two sit on their own bean bags, turning around to face him. he was blushing like crazy. "i can't believe you two set me up!"

"someone had to." shoko claims, putting out her cigarette, "god knows you weren't gonna do it yourself."

"so how did it go?" suguru asks, wanting to know all the details.

satoru tells them about the mission and the dinner and how the confession went. suguru gets a punch in the shoulder for his intrusion, and shoko gets a glare for mentioning the thai restaurant.

the way he smiles and stares at the ceiling as he speaks makes his friends grin as well. it was high time that he finally got with you.

"and i walked her to her room when we got home and i thanked her for dinner—"

"no way you let her pay when you've got ten thousand businesses—"

"and i kissed her 'goodnight' and she said she wanted to go out again, soon." satoru finishes off, a happy smile on his lips, "she's really amazing..."

"finally! make me your best man." suguru says, turning back to the game with shoko.

satoru chuckles, turning to watch the game they were playing after changing your contact name in his phone.

y/n 💙

so next week? that cat cafe close by?

he smiles.

satoru ♡

sure thing, pretty

nanmi and haibara can hear you squeal in your dorm.

[luvingjeanie]

oh my GOD!? GWI NAM😫😫 i’m grasping on to any post about my babe

i beg for some like maybe just relationship headcanons or anything to do with him pretty much!! xx

i love ur writing too it’s so good🤤🫦 pretty please x

i’m glad u like my writing! anything for u gorgeous <3

♡ he’s stupid. i’m so sorry but he is </3

♡ he knows that people don’t actually ‘like’ him, and that they just tolerate him, laugh when he bothers someone, because they’re intimidated by him, after all who wouldn’t be? bro literally stood on a kids head and near about crushed his skull.

♡ so because of this, he knows he can’t approach you normally, or at least he thinks he can’t

♡ so instead, he kicks your chair, tugs your hair a little harshly as he walks past, purposefully does that annoying thing where he stands on the back of your shoe to make it come off a little

♡ it’s a little odd though, because at times, it seems more like friendly teasing rather than malicious, and you get confused

♡ you’ve seen him treat other people far worse, like eun-ji, so why is he almost joking in his teasing with you?

♡ maybe you feel a little brave one day as ask him what his deal is, or maybe he realises teasing is getting him nowhere with you, but one day, he really fucking reluctantly tells you why he’s being such a little shit

♡ ears red, avoiding eye contact, slouched against a wall with hands in his pocket, tongue poking at his inner cheek after he asks you out on a little date!

♡ genuinely terrified you’re gonna say no

♡ but you don’t! you say yes! aw how cute <3

♡ he’s not overly sweet, or romantic, but as i’ve said in other posts, he does live to please his s/o. not because he’s a gentleman, but to make sure you won’t leave :(

♡ so, keeping it simple for the first date i honestly just think you guys would go to the cinema :)

♡ it’s cheap, gives you guys something to do, and sometimes to talk about after :)

♡ i really can’t see him being very affectionate on your first few dates, not that he doesn’t want to, but i really think he’d be uncharacteristically timid around someone he actually likes

♡ after a few dates he would just assume you’re a couple.

♡ he wouldn’t ask, why does he need to?? you like him, he likes you, you guys have hugged and kissed, isn’t that enough to seal the deal?

♡ only asks when he realises you’re sad he hasn’t😭

♡ “am i not already your boyfriend though??? :/“

♡ “fine, i’ll ask.”

♡ because he likes you, he’s happy to do so, he just really doesn’t understand why it’s needed

♡ he isn’t timid forever though, once he’s sure you’re together for real he’s a cocky asshole.

♡ ruffles your hair, bites your cheek or shoulder, draws on your hand in class, if you’re a smoker will blow smoke into your face when you guys sneak away for a cigarette during lunch

♡ not super publicly affectionate but doesn’t mind slinging an arm around your shoulder

♡ LOVESSS when you hug his bicep instead of holding his hand. makes him feel all big n’ strong

♡ also makes you light his cigarettes for him, something about it is just so hot and he fucking loves it

♡ goes over to your place a lot more than you go to his. honestly, you’ve probably only met his parents once and he likes it that way

♡ i dont think his parents are terrible or anything, but i think he can tell they’re disappointed in him, with his grades and behaviour, so he doesn’t enjoy being at home much

♡ SLEEPSS every time he’s at yours. your bed is his.

♡ runs hot, like furnace hot. the boy is an incinerator so the moment he’s at yours, his shirt is off, he’s changed into joggers and he’s sleeping on top of the covers.

♡ because he runs so hot, no cuddling in bed. he’ll have you on his chest or an arm around you watching a movie, or talking, but as soon as you guys sleep you’re on opposite ends of the bed because he just gets uncomfortably warm😭

♡ if your parents are cool with him sleeping over you’re late for school every time because you just cannot get him out of bed

♡ at school, you’re getting pulled away for the sloppiest make out sessions

♡ he’s such a perv for you, the moment he gets the chance, you’re being dragged to the construction site, pushed against a wall with his tongue licking into your hot, wet, open mouth, one hand in your hair and one on your ass

♡ passes lewd, dirty notes to you in class

♡ once he’s comfortable he’s just horny all the time i fear

♡ draws on your hands in class too, but it isn’t cute stuff, he’ll probably draw a penis or something

♡ special occasions!!!

♡ he doesn’t really go all out, and he doesn’t want you to either

♡ for his birthday he’d really just prefer some convenience store food and a casual date or sitting in your house😭

♡ doesn’t want too many presents, just a few small things, maybe a new jacket or cologne

♡ asks for birthday head

♡ for your birthday, again, the presents are small, but little things he’d know you’d like

♡ they aren’t wrapped, probably just shoved in his backpack or maybe a gift bag

♡ why buy wrapping paper if you’re jus’ gonna tear it open anyway???

♡ doesn’t really care for valentines day, but he will buy you little things like your favourite sweets if you care about it, but he will NOT give them to you at school because that’s embarrassing!

♡ doesn’t buy cheesy shit like heart shaped chocolates or whatever, if he’s buying you something he wants you to actually like it, and he thinks those little stuffed valentines bears look stupid

♡ is ODDLY sweet when he meets your parents

♡ similar to the scene in the principal’s office when he and his group were being questioned about bullying eun-ji, jin-su, and cheol-su, he’s a terrifyingly good actor

♡ “thank you for having me :)”

♡ “the food was lovely, thank you so much :)”

♡ OSCAR winning performance honestly

♡ will ask u to do his homework </3

♡ not really huge on pet names, he usually calls you mean shit to tease you, and actually enjoys when you do it back

♡ he wants someone he can joke and mess about with

♡ but if he does use little pet names it’s probably something simply like baby, and honestly only really uses it in private or when you’re making out

♡ or fucking

♡ lowkey, a surprisingly decent boyfriend, just not super romantic or anything

♡ but he’s loyal, because as i’ve said, he wouldn’t even consider dating someone unless he was super sure about them

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Catching fireflies

Trilogy masterlist

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x Fem! Reader

Chapter warnings: Dead dove do not eat, dubcon borders noncon, coercion, manipulation, age gap (reader is 19-20 and Joel is 56), unprotected p in v, alcohol consumption, pussy slapping, mention of blood, virginity loss, creampie, inexperienced reader

You slouched over the bar, giggled resonating with the loud, thumping music.

"Aw come on Jerry, you know me since I was a kid!" You pushed, fingers brushing against the worn wood, sticky with years of spilled whiskey; the old bartender chuckle hoarsely. The banter was playful, a brief respite the people of Jackson allowed themselves in the ruckus of the Apocalypse, some glee.

"The world may be fucked up, but you are still underage." He answered, cheeks tinted both from the laughing and the unforgiving summer heat.

Another drunken citizen chirped in, telling the man to give you a drink. Although you knew his intentions were far from kind, you allowed him to fuel the laughter. You hid your uneasiness deep down as you tugged your flowy skirt down your thighs.

The door bell clinked open, but before you could turn around and see, a cup of lemonade was placed in front of you. You inspected the drink with feigned offense.

"Come on Jerry, just one beer." You pleaded, doing your best puppy dog eyes.

"You want Maria to kill me?" He excused, and you rolled your eyes at the excuse you have heard a thousand times.

Like when you asked a boy to be your boyfriend, or when you ask for Tommy to bring you a pretty dress. It all resorted to your mother, well adopted mother; she had taken care of you after your mother died in the outbreak, but it also meant the community held you as some kind of baby Jesus. Always no, always strict.

"Well, Maria can't kill me." You heard a deep seated, growly chuckle behind you, and you peeked over your shoulder.

A man with dark pepper and salt hair, broad shoulder and big, brown eyes. He held a smirk, adorned by a thick, well trimmed, beard that matched his hair. It clicked a tad too late, the resemblance.

"Joel Miller, what are you doing here?" Jerry greeted with a laugh, making the man's gaze lift from you.

"Decided to stick to one place at a time." He explained, nearing the counter. He nudged towards you with his head. "Give her something, on my tab, come on."

Jerry's smile turn into a scowl as he added cheap vodka to your lemonade, and you squealed in excitement, muttering a chant of thank you's to him. You almost forgot about Joel beside you as you sipped the straw.

"So you are, Maria's girl?" He asked, and your eyes shot to him, as a child caught stealing candy.

"Well yes," you sputtered. "Adopted." You added, but it felt weird to clarify.

"Well I'm lucky you are not my niece."

You giggled slightly, was that a compliment?

"Or else you wouldn't be buying me drinks?" you said, and it came out flirtier than you thought. He hummed in response, and the way his shoulders rose sent a tingle through your body.

He's like twice my age. You thought, and that was enough to slip you right out of your giddy trance. You started thinking of excuses to ditch him and head back to your friends, fumbling with the fear of coming off as rude. But the way his eyes lingered on your white lacey dress beneath the thick denim jacket made you unease.

He asked Jerry for a beer, turning to you with a sip. "Wanna go outside?"

Your lips fell apart but words didn't spill, and you head just nodded. Okay, I'll go outside and then tell him I need to go back to my friends. But as you felt lingering stares into the summer night, Joel maimed you with conversation.

He was intriguing to say the least, speaking in short, concise sentences that kept stringing questions into your mind. He spread against a bench as you sat on the edge of the seat, interrogating him in his many adventures.

"There are some things a young thing like you can't hear." He excused, lighting a cigarette between his thick chapped lips. You whined, catching his attention.

Soon enough you were laying your head on your hand against the bench, eyes fluttering as you mustered to keep asking him, keep him talking. His accent was thick, similar to Tommy's.

"Someone's getting tired?" You heard once your eyes were shut, you hummed in response. "Let me take you home."

You questioned if Maria or Tommy would get mad as you walked up the cobblestone, then you laughed at yourself. It was Tommy's brother, the one you have heard stories almost all your life, although having met him randomly, you doubted they'll get mad if they saw him walking you up to your door.

Still, you peeked to the house beside you, checking that the lights were off before turning to face him.

"Well thank you, Joel?" You smiled curtly, waiting for him to leave before opening the door.

"Nice thing you got here, gonna let me in?"

The question felt weird, suggestive.

"You need something?" You asked, a bit more abruptly than you wanted it to come off, but tiredness seeped into you.

Joel blinked, his brows drawing together. "I must be doin’ somethin’ wrong. Pretty girls usually don’t leave me out in the cold." He explained, perhaps way to bitterly. You feel your cheeks warm up as you look around, seeing no one. "but I guess you are too young for that, right?"

You felt yourself cringe at how dumb you felt, young felt almost like an insult. Your gaze fell to your feet, seeing his rugged leather boots.

"it's okay baby," He sighed, and the word slipped out of his tongue effortlessly. "everyone got a first time."

The slight relief that had washed over you dissipated, as if burnt by the heat of his gaze, and everything that had been told of men poured into your mind.

"I-I am not that type of girl." You spluttered, and instantly cursed to yourself.

Joel sniggered, and you felt small in front of his thick, broad body. damn, you had to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Oh I know baby," He drawled, and his hand slowly came up to your face, tucking a strand behind your ear. The word rolled out, sending shivers down your spine. "Just wanted to know you got onto bed safely, and you don't, you know, sleep in the couch- you look so tired."

You nodded, biting your lip. Hastily, you opened the door and turn on the lights. It was pretty small, but it worked; Tommy and Maria wanted you to have your own house, being perhaps to crowded in theirs, but they still wanted to keep you close.

"There's juice on the fridge," You offered timidly, looking how his big figure looked almost comical in your house. "I'm going to change, um, I think I'm good now."

He didn't answer, boots thumping against the floor boards as he observed the pictures over the fireplace. You shrugged to yourself, slipping into your bedroom.

You wondered if he was still there as you changed into your pijama set, something that was sewn for you by Maria, and layered a hoodie on top to check is he was still there.

To no one's surprise, he was, leaning over the wall as is waiting for you.

"I'm going to sleep now," You laugh dryly, pointing to your bedroom as if clarifying you weren't sleeping on the couch.

He looked pretty, and you felt weird for thinking that of a man so much older. He stalled, looking at your for a bit longer.

"Come here," He commanded, and you felt yourself freeze. he saw you, your doe eyed look as you stared at him, pleadingly. "come here baby, I don't bite."

He's Tommy's brother, I know Tommy since I was ten, come on.

You walked over to him, bare feet almost tripping over each other. You stopped a feet away from him, looking expectantly. He rose from the wall, closing the distance between the two of you.

"You are a pretty girl, you know that right?" He told you, and you felt yourself blush as you nodded, weakly. "words, baby."

"Yes, Joel." You answered; a smile tugged once again at his lips, pleased.

"And I'm telling you this for you to take care of yourself, okay?"

You repeated the answer, seeing his chest slightly swell at your obedience.

"You can't let men enter your house like this." He explained, and your brows knitted together in confusion. "They can get... wrong ideas, alright baby?"

"I'm sorry." You said, although you weren't; you were confused.

"Sweet innocent thing," He drawled, and his hand rose to cradle your cheek, forcing you to look into his deep, dark eyes. They looked almost black in the dim lighting. "Have you ever had your first kiss?"

The question struck you, and you felt shame; his touch felt deceiving. As if he was mocking. You shook your head, and he tutted.

"No, Joel." You mumbled, questioning why you kept repeating his name after each answer.

His smile turn into a grin, hand now cupping your jaw.

"Gonna help you with that, just so you-wake up, a bit-darling, alright?"

Before you could even wonder what he meant, his grip became tighter as he pulled you closer, lips clashing into yours. You gasped, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, as if searching for yours. His free hand coiled around your waist, pushing you closer and your hands felt onto his chest. His finger trailed closer to your neck, keeping you in place as he ravaged your mouth.

He let go, leaving your breathless, chest heaving as you gazed up to him in shock. His mouth was twisted into a hungry snarl as he came down to whisper in your ear. "Don't tell them about this, baby."

You woke up the next day believing it was a dream, a twisted and weird dream or perhaps that one glass you had drunk, but when Maria told you to come over for dinner, to celebrate Joel's welcome into the community, and you felt his piercing stare on yours, you knew you hadn't dreamed it. You were quiet at dinner, letting them speak and catch up; Joel was more talkative than you remembered.

You wanted to isolate the incident at your house, to think it was just him genuinely teaching you something, but a fire rose through you each time you were captive to those big, puppy dog eyes. You hadn't kiss anyone since him, and the feeling lingered in your lips. You found yourself thinking about him, about his thick body.

He wasn't teasing as usual around the others, perhaps grumpier with them. He flashed you small smiles and pats in the back, and he supplied all your drinks from the bar, telling you to "go get lost kid" each time he saw you begging by the counter. His change of demeanor made you wonder, if you weren't good enough or mature enough; you had never thought that, not until Joel Miller appeared in your life.

The doubt had crept over you for too long before you gathered your bravery and decided to sneak out to see him; his house stayed on the farther side of town, the one were less people were around. You slipped through back yards and trees the way day, questioning what exactly you were planning until you came face to face with him, sitting in his porch with a guitar on his hand.

"Hi." You greeted, breathless.

"Baby, what are you doing here?" He asked, and hearing the nickname once again made you gush. He looked around, perhaps worried, as he beckoned you to come closer.

"I-I wanted to see you." You confessed, shamefully, and before you sat down he stood up, nudging to the house.

"Come in, can't have you out here."

You followed him inside, jumping when he neared you as soon as the door slam shut. His hands made their way to your hips, impatiently; you got whiff of his cologne, leather and eucalyptus. You wide-eyedly looked up at him, hands pressing into his flannel. You liked his hair that way, slicked back, fresh from the shower.

"Why did you kiss me the other night?" You muttered.

You saw him hesitate with words, struggle, bite his lip as if he was trying to keep his words in. You suddenly felt overly conscious of the way your jacket draped over your body, of the way your jean shorts clung around your thighs and the low cut of your tank top; perhaps you didn't look as good as you expected.

"Baby, don't do this to me." He pleaded, although it sounder more like a demand.

"Please." You begged, fingers latching on tighter.

"It's wrong baby, so wrong." he growled, eyes dipping to your lips. You almost whined at the tone.

Your head cocked to the side, tears brimming in your eyes; what was wrong with you? He just kissed you.

"But why?" You whined; his grip tightened around you.

"Tommy would kill me." He grunted, head turning to look around, evading your eyes, evading you; still his grip persisted, as if holding you in place. "If he found out that- that I like you this much-"

"You like me?" You implore, lips tugging into a small, goofy smile.

He looked at you like a man starved, a man punished. "Oh baby," He panted, pressing your body to his. "I really like you, but Tommy would-"

Each time he repeated his name it irked you, like a scratched record. You cut him short. "Tommy won't know."

His tortured eyes soften, a glint of... hope? ignited. You battled the guilt setting in the back of your brain, the promise you had made despite everything Tommy and Maria had given you.

"You wouldn't tell him?" He questioned, voice as soft as silk.

"No," You spoke quickly, scared he might slip from your grasp. "I-I like you too, Joel."

He let out a small chuckle, and you felt lighter. You allowed yourself to chuckle too, and he called your name softly, you hummed in response.

"No one can know baby, alright?" He told you, hand cupping your cheek. You wanted to savor the tenderness of the moment, but his lips were on yours quickly.

It wasn't your first kiss now, and it was frankly more expected than the other; you attempted to keep up with his demanding pace, lips barely parting to allow his tongue to slip in and taste you. His mouth "o"ed against yours, hungrily as your felt his grip on the nape of your neck.

Suddenly his body was pushing you, your feet stumbling as he guided you. Against a wall? the table? your mind buzzed, attempting to find an answer to what he was doing before your knees buckled into the couch, the stripey green fabric cushioning your fall.

His body fell onto you, settling his thick torso between your legs as he pulled away briefly; his hair had messed up a bit, his lips pink from his assault, and his eyes furrowed like some animal; everything about his gaze felt predatory.

He fixed himself in his forearms, rubbing the zipper of his dark jeans into your clothed core, sending a gaspy whine out of you.

"J-Joel?" You muttered as his face hid in the crook of your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses against your blazing skin. He grunted in response, a paw sliding up your thighs; panic brewed in you. "Joel I don't-um-"

He unslotted himself from you, face mere inches away as he looked at you. Joel looked angry, but he couldn't possibly be, right?

"I'm not ready for that." You admitted, like a sinner repenting.

His gaze left you, looking at the empty table, huffing. You felt tears kiss the brim of your eyes, scared to have offended him once again.

"It's fine baby," He grunted, but it felt like it wasn't. He slightly shifted, inches away from you.

"I'm sorry," You choked, doubting to confess further. "I have never done t-that."

You caught his gaze, a small grin on his lips. "It's fine baby," He repeated, and his eyes lighted a bit. "just promise me somethin', alright?"

"Yes, yes." You nodded, fearing he was going to ask you something you won't like. Like forgetting him.

"Promise me I'll be your first."

A month had passed since you sealed your fate, like some sacrificial lamb. You felt as if you were being prepared for it too, Joel slipping into your home late at night, after a long day of practically ignoring you, and kissing your breathless against your walls, your couch and your bed. His hand had wondered over your clothed core a handful of times, hushing your worry by telling you he "Just wanted to see something".

An event that burn into your mind was one night where he was particularly agitated, grasping you roughly as usual. As his hips rutted into the mattress, he whispered something into your ear that sent shivers down your spine.

"Let me see her." He panted, seeing how your eyes narrowed as if you were wincing in doubt. "Please, baby."

His pleads were answered with a small nod that could be mistaken as anything else; you allowed him to bend you over the bed, as you allowed him to touch in places Maria had told you not to allow anyone to touch you. His calloused finger tips pulled down your pijama pants along with your white, sodden panties.

"For a girl that tells me she isn't ready, you are soaking wet baby." He commented, hand splaying in your ass. You felt your core clench at his words.

The light buzz of the zipper woke you up from your trance, and his name bubbled in your throat. "Relax baby, ain't gonna put it in."

You felt the wooden frame of the bed dig at your hips as the dim moonlight casted shadows around the room. You waited, silently, until you heard low, familiar groans behind you. You didn't want to look behind your back, his tightening grip on your ass sending cold sweet along your skin.

His grunts were vivid in your ear against the silence of the night, and you closed your eyes until it was over, despite not knowing for how long he could go. You were on the edge of falling asleep, the only thing keeping you away was the burning pinch on your skin. He became louder, you begged he would just shut up. Something ran across your mind, if it was even appropriate to ask him when was it over.

As a horrible wish you felt hot ropes lather against your backside, slipping through crevices, leaving a sticky trail. He let go of you, panting as his knees cracked, floorboards accompanying the sound.

You didn't want to move, in fear that his waste would dirty things up. You failed to hear him leave and come back, the cooling sensation of a wet rag cleaning the flaky stickiness on your skin being a strange delight.

"You are so good for me, baby." He praised, and your heart swelled. You flashed him a small smile as the waistband snapped back in place. "Gonna take you to a date tomorrow, you'd like that baby?"

You spent every waking hour thinking about that; he told Tommy he needed help running some errands, a bit of hunting here and there, something like that. You were almost sure Tommy only said yes because of how your face lit up at the mention of leaving the fortress of Jackson for a few hours.

A gentle breeze stroked your cheek, warmed by the setting sand as Joel took your delicate hands in his tanned, calloused ones. His figure was darkened by the rays that blinded you. Your cow girl boots padded on the uneasy ground, long grass stroking your legs as the cherry print sundress flowed.

"Where are you taking me, Mr Miller?" You asked with a sly chuckle, slightly unsettled by the normalcy of it all; it felt almost like before the outbreak. The nickname rolled down your tongue teasingly.

"Just a date," He answered shortly, leading you into a emptier valley. You gasped at the sight. "over here."

Sure, the blanket was the usual he kept at the back of his truck, and there wasn't a champagne bottle, or flowers or food, just a half empty bottle of whiskey. But the effort overwhelmed you.

You had expected more when he told you to wait in the car, but it was enough to make you jump into his thick arms.

"Oh thank you," You almost sobbed, chest heaving. You separated yourself to look into his eyes, but the dark browns skimmed down your neckline as he stepped back into the blanket. "You are so sweet, I-"

He landed with a slight thud into the ruddy blanket, and pulled you on top of him.

"Anything for my baby." he mumbled, propping you on top of him. A hand tangling into your hair as he pushed your lips into his, tongue slipping into your mouth as he grabbed a fistful of your ass. You yelped, pulling away.

His expression soured, eyebrows knitting together as you let out a slight giggle, attempting to dissipate the tension.

"Are we going to watch the sunset?" You asked eagerly as you slipped out of his lap, and he fisted the whiskey bottle. Haphazardly, he opened it and took a swig before nudging it into your arm. "Oh, I have never drank whiskey-"

"Come on baby, it won't kill you." He cut you short. You allowed it to burn it's way into you, perhaps scared of displeasing him.

Soon you were even more giggly as you draped yourself over the blanket. Joel's scowl had dissipated, and he was once again singing sweet things into your ear.

"You are so pretty," He mumbled against your neck, placing tender, testing kisses. "Such a pity you are so young."

You grunted at his words, playfully glaring at him. "What do you mean?"

Because what could he mean? You were basically dating, if you knew anything about that; he took you on dates away from Jackson, preaching about privacy, and he visited you late at night, through the backdoor.

He let out a dry laugh as he took one glance into the sky, now painted a light blue as the sun cast it's last goodbyes. You propped yourself in your elbows, getting a better look on his pepper and salt hair and thick beard.

"You are too young for me," he repeated, and you felt nervous by the way he evaded your eyes. "too innocent-"

"I'm not innocent." You almost barked, hand slapping against your lips as you realized how quickly you had said it. "I mean-I don't see how that is a problem."

He finally looked at you with a down turned smile, as if assessing you.

"Come on baby," He nagged, stroking your cheek. "a man like me has, I don't know how to say this, but needs."

You knew what he meant, and it scared you. He had tried a month ago, when you have started dating, and you panicked. He had taken you home for the bar, and perhaps you understood it; that was what people usually do, at least he had told you that. And he was respectful about it too, any time his hand would slip up your thigh, you just had to give him a tight lipped smile for him to stop.

But he was right. Men had needs. Everyone told you about it, most of the time it was a warning, to not be so naive, because men could do and would do bad things to you, just because of these needs.

But Joel wasn't like those men, he was good, he was nice, he even brought you gifts every time he went out for munitions, like what looked like really expensive underwear.

"I know," You spoke slowly, slurred by the amount of whiskey you had taken. "I-I can do it."

A smile appeared on his lips, and once again he looked so sweet when happy.

"You sure baby?" He asked, but his body was already falling on top of yours. The rough fabric of his jeans slide through your thighs, and you felt his zipper line up against your core. "You'll make me the happiest man alive."

It felt sudden, but you had literally told him you were willing to do it, you thought.

He had jumped over you like a coyote over his pray, placing open mouthed kisses over you as his hand palmed over you. He pulled your panties to the side, fingers playing with the slickness you had deprived him off for so long.

His finger prints traced over your fleshy bit, the button that stood at the top of your slit, the one that throbbed when he pressed himself to you. You whined, his ministrations a bit too rough, too intense as you felt as if you were being electrocuted.

You gasped when his thick finger broke into you, a sting following its path. "So tight baby," He mumbled by your shoulder, your eyelids shooting close in pain. "have to open you up for my cock."

The way he said it made you felt even more dirty, but he was he one staining you, and if he liked it that much, it couldn't be so bad, right?

His wet finger left your cunt to fiddle with his belt, you heard the clunk zip sounds along his grunts as he lowered his jeans.

"Take a look baby," He called, and you slowly peeked your eyes opened to look between his legs.

In his hand he held his cock. It's red hot tip weep sadly, veins decorating its side; it was longer than his fist, and thicker than any vegetable you have seen around. A weird comparison, but it was all you thought at the moment.

You head begun to shake, eyes shooting pleadingly at him. "Joel, it's not gonna- is it even gonna fit?"

He chuckled, proudly, as his hand continued to pump precum around it. "It's supposed to baby, your body is made for that."

You nodded, biting your lower lip; he knew better than you. You felt the urge to ask him if he had done this before, but it was probably stupid.

"Lay down baby," He ordered, and you slowly plopped back onto your back. "Spread this legs nice and wide for me."

He saw you doubt, so he forced his body between them, hands at your knees. He laughed about something, looking down between your bodies. You felt the hot tip heavy against you, against the opening. Your hands clenched the blanket beneath you, knuckles turning white, and he pushed in.

Pressure, pressure, pain.

You yelped painfully as you felt the intrusion, body jolting away on instinct. He tutted at you, hands gripping your hips tightly.

"Baby, now we gotta put it in again." He scolded, your head swag from side to side, scared of muttering the words. You fought against his grip. "Stay still."

He growled the last part, and your heart hammered against your chest. You felt searing pain once again, as he pushed in. Your lips parted and a hoarse scream came out, surprising you.

A hand that could break your neck slapped against it, keeping your head still. He met your terrified eyes, tears rolling down your temples form the pain.

"God baby you wanna get us killed?" He barked lowly. "It's going to hurt more if you keep squirming; gonna do this quickly, rip the bandage, alright baby? promise you'll like it afterwards."

He kept talking, but your mind went blank with white hot pain as you felt his hips flush against yours as the agony stilled for a second. It all came back, crushing you as you heard his deep seated moan, your thighs fought against it, shutting close against his torso.

"Take it," He groaned, unlike his usual sweet demeanor. "Take it like a good girl, my good girl."

His hand still clasped over your mouth, and through your blurry eyes you could see his face, hear him; he was happy, he liked it. The praise went straight to your cunt, allowing some ache to dull.

He was going at it for hours, the sun now long gone as all you could do was feel him; the drag of your cock in and out in quick hard motions, his wandering hands pulling down your dress to lick and suck at your neck. And you heard him too, his groans and grunts and the dirty words he shot at you, becoming dirtier and rougher with each thrust.

"Taking my cock so good, bad girl."

"Such a whore, fucking an old man like me, huh?"

"Stop fucking whining, you love it, little perfect slut."

It became too much, any pleasure his strokes could cause disappearing as he lifted your ass off the ground to fuck into you. You whined, feeling the pressure on your clit, a throbbing. A hand came down upon your sensitive skin, slapping there.

You chanted his name, feeling sweat bead against your skin as he gave you blow after blow, sending you clenching around his cock.

"Gonna cum around my cock, huh baby? as I'm slapping your little pussy?" He questioned, and you blabbered a yes.

His thumb begun revolving around your soft point, the rest of his hand pressing down on your abdomen. You allowed the foreign feeling to take over you as his cock thrust up into you, hitting a spongy spot that sent your back curling against the ground.

"J-joel!" You whined, shrieking as you came undone under him.

Any muscle that tensed came undone too, cramping against you as Joel picked up your thighs, pressing them against your chest as he gave precise fucks into you.

"Gonna cum inside of you," He growled. "Fill you nice and deep, baby."

His body weight fell on top of you, stretching your legs even further as you felt his cock twitch inside you. The wetness spilled further inside you, and you quietly listened to his staggered breaths as you came down from your high.

The blood hadn't dried off the blanket as he said it was getting late and walked you to the truck. You waddled, slight pain in your lower belly as you followed him.

"Wasn't that bad, right baby?" He asked you, the light of the truck illuminating his face in a warm glow. His hair was messy, damp with sweat, and he lit a cigarette between his lips.

"It was good." You smiled absentmindedly. "Thank you, Joel."

[angellovesravon222]

"Love me a big booty bitch..."

Big booty activities can be a pain in the ass... Literally.

The party itself was lame, cheap ass drinks and wanna be thugs smoking on the couch, nonchalant guys in the corners of the room getting the attention of the all the girls that dare waste their time on a guy like that.

M/n didn't even wanna come, he just came for food and drinks, maybe a hookup if he was feeling it.

Now M/n was a decent looking guy, he was pretty attractive for a little gay boy, as his friends would say.

You sighed as he wandered around the house, making his way to the large kitchen. The whole house smelt rank as fuck and he just needed a drink and some fresh air.

You didn't usually wear anything skimpy, but why not try and get out of your comfort zone? It's Halloween for fucks sake! But even if you wanted to, you were extremely lazy. It was a party, why put so much work into your looks when it'll be hot, sweaty and packed in the house.

You walked into the empty kitchen, the only thing there being pizza boxes, packs of beer, and his sister making out with some random girl he's never seen before.

At least she was having fun.

You grabbed a few beers before exiting the crowded house, leaving through the backdoor and making his way to the side of the house where nobody else dared to go.

M/n huffed as he walked through the grass, turning around the house only to be face to face with... A druggie?

.

.

.

M/n let out a soft gasp as he stepped back to get a good look at the man. He wore all black clothes, like, literally all black. His jeans were baggy and black, he wore black air forces, his hoodie was black too! Safe to say he really liked the color black...!

He had a septum along with an eyebrow piercing, all in silver. It suited him quite well to be honest. His skin was as dark as chocolate, smooth shiny skin like a melted chocolate scoop of ice cream from Baskin robins.

He smelt like weed and a strong cologne, so strong it almost repulsed M/n. "Shit, sorry I didn't know someone was here... Can I chill here for a sec?" Ángel spoke softly as he swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked up to the man.

The boy only looked down at him, the cigarette in his hand clearly finished.. "I don't care." He said as he flicked the cigarette in the lawn before pulling out another, lighting it up.

"okay...?" M/n only sighed silently as he at beside the mystery guy.

M/n didn't bother looking at the guy, simply popping open a beer and looking out into the garden Infront of them. It was pretty calm and peaceful compared to the party inside.

The man beside him slid down the wall, settling to sit down next to M/n.

"beer?" M/n offered the man, only side eyeing the man, not making any effort to really use his body at this point.

"sure..." He accepted, taking the cold beverage and cracking it open.

"What's your name?" M/n almost hesitated to even ask but it's not like he knew anyone else at the party other then his sister. "Devon, you?" The man- er, Devon answered with a gruff voice. It was deep and raspy, almost dry. Probably from cigarettes.

"M/n, what you doing just sitting here alone?"

"I could ask you the same..."

"It got really hot in there. Too many people eating each others faces all over the place..."

Devon chuckled as he set his beer on the floor, leaning on the house.

They both relaxed with one another, not realizing this wouldnt be the only time they'd be together..

Many hours had passed, Devon and M/n getting to know each other very well as time went on. They shared many secrets, backstories, and many more. If only they knew they'd be revealing more than just a few stupid secrets..

Boner alert

Soft plaps of skin slapping and groans echoed in the closet, party music barely seeping through the closet door. Faints moans filled the closet, each one getting louder and louder along with skin slapping.

Your breath hitched as Devons hands traveled around your, one hand playing with your nipple while the other jerked your throbbing dick off.

"So fucking tight..."Devon groaned as he nuzzled his face into M/Ms neck, inhaling his scent.

His smell was addicting to Devon, almost making him go crazy...

"Don't tell me you're a virgin..." Devon chuckled, looking at your fucked out face, red and sweaty with your brows furrowed. Small tears rolled down your cheek from the harsh rhythm of Devon's thrusts and overstimulation of his cock ramming into your prostate.

"I asked you a question... Be a good boy and answer me." He practically growled in your ear, waiting for your answer as he slowly stopped his pace.

"I... I am! Please just-!" You gasped for air, barely able to get any words out as Devon slapped your ass cheek, leaving a bright red cast on your skin.

He slammed back into you, resuming his pace. Precum seeping out of your cock onto the wood floor, your hands red from holding onto the wooden walls

"What a whore... Just giving your purity to some guy from a party. How'd does it make you feel? Huh? Cumming for a guy you barely even know..."

He shamed you, even while still slamming his cock into you while his free hand gripped your sore butt cheek. You couldn't handle it, the torture, overstimulation, and down right degrading...

"How would your mommy feel knowing you let some guy fuck you? Cum in your insides? Feeling every inch of your body while barely knowing you? What a slut." He groaned,

You moaned as your orgasm crashed into you like a semi truck, throwing your head back as your cum splattered on the wall and dripped to the floor.

Devon chuckled as you came, his pace never faltering. His grip on your neck tightened as he pulled you up, his other hand letting go of your cock and moving to grip your thigh. His other hand did the same, moving under your thighs and lifting you up, dick still embedded in your tight hole.

Big tears swelled in your eyes as Devon kissed pressed light kisses on your cheek as he slowly thrusted in and out of you. It was a much more forgiving pace than how it was before.

"I can't... I can't keep going!" *You whined, throwing your head back as Devon bit the side of your neck. His hips slowly slapping your butt, his pace getting faster after each slap.

"I know you can, don't fail me now. I haven't even came yet, you need to let me cum..."

Devon whispered in your ear before returning to bitting your neck. His cock was leaking inside of you, throbbing as he thrusted faster into you.

"fuck... I'm almost!-" Devon grunted, his grip tightening around your legs as he hugged them to your chest. He thrusted as if he'd die if he slowed down.

"Fuck, ahh! Im gonna cum again!" Your eye burned as tears rolled down your cheeks, another orgasm crashing into you as your cum squirted out of your throbbing cock.

Devon wasn't holding up good either, his cock throbbing in you as his pelvis harshly slapped against your butt, leaving it sore and red.

"Auh, fuck! I'm gonna cum in you! Gahh, fuck!" Devon practically screamed, cum bursting out of his cock hole and covering your insides in a milky white substance.

Thankfully, the sounds of loud music completely covered the screams, whimpers, and skin slapping that was coming from that dingy closet.

Devon leaned against the wall with you still in his arms as he slid down. He slowly unhooked his arms from your legs, his warm cock still wrapped around your cum filled walls.

"shit.." You whimpered, leaning on Devon's chest. Your pants were still bundled around your ankles, neither one of you cared to ever pull them completely off. Probably for convenience.

"shit indeed, fuck..." You both sat in silence for a while, needing rest from that huge fuck session. Your legs were sore from being contorted in positions you've never been in just for Devon's pleasure. And yours, you can't lie.

Devon wrapped his hands around your waist, heavily breathing down your neck. He rested his cheek against yours, both of you finally calming down.

"Round 2?"

To be continued <3

[ysrjune]

wait i lowkey have an idea!! so sam is at a party with friends and stuff. and he sees this girl and he’s like star struck. like “wow this girl is stunning” then he tries to go and flirt with her and make her all nervous and flustered? WRONG! she makes him all nervous and flustered! she teases him and shit and it’s like super cute. Then he gets all nervous, begins to stutter, etc etc. i hope u like the idea!! tyy 🤭🤭

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 🎲

summary: sam highkey a bitch LMFAOO

"you wont." corey rolled his eyes at sam with a beer in his hand. "what makes you think that you'd be able to make a girl like her nervous? you're a loser, dude." the blond laughs at his friend. sam rolled his eyes back and blew cigarette smoke into coreys dumb face. "twenty bucks I can. I mean, I talked to lyssa last year." he takes the cig out of his mouth and crushes it under his shoe on the floor.

"no, she talked to you." corey corrects sam and takes a sip of the cheap beer that didnt even taste like REAL beer. "and she CONTINUED to talk to you. all that happened was you warmed up to her, and its not like you even lasted long. that relationship was a good six months before it took a toll." jeez, he didnt have to call sam out like that. "alright, shut your big mouth." sam shakes his head, looking over at the girl he had his eyes on for the past hour "we dont gotta bet anything, kay? just watch me do it. no problem." sam says with confidence and puts his God awful shades on.

she was talking to a friend with a drink in hand.. not that cheap beer or any other alcoholic drink—just punch. right when sam was about to approach her, his breath hitched and he walked right past her to go over to the drinks. he looks over at corey, and ofcourse his friend is making faces at him and laughing. "told ya so." he could make out what corey had said from afar. the tall boy groans and stays in a corner with his cup of punch, waiting for her friend to leave so he could get to the other one with nobody else making him nervous.

to his surprise, it didnt take too long.. maybe 5 minutes before her friend went to go talk to her boyfriend. swiftly but also shyly, sam went right up to her with a small smirk on his lips. "hey, uh.." he starts, staring into her eyes. "youu???" she chuckled and sipped her juice. "i-im uh.. im.." he looks up at corey, who was laughing, then back to his little crush. "im sam.. monroe.." he wanted to kill himself. why did he say his full name? you introduce yourself just as he did. "why d'you have shades on? we're inside.. pretty dark, too." aside from the colorful lights shining on everyone's skin. sam was under a purple light while you were under a green.

"um.. i... uh.." he looks down to his feet nervously. "i dunno.." he shakes his head, now smiling. "i just uh.." he finally looked at your face. "thought they would make me more comfortable, I guess." he says. "you scared of girls?" you smile back. "no.." his tongue plays with the metal inside his mouth from his lip piercing. "so, whyre you talking to me sam. need something?" "no.. i mean—uh.. yeah.. sort of." his foot shuffles, making it too obvious how nervous he is. "like.. your number maybe.." "you want my number.. why?" you cross your arms just to tease. ".. to call you? uh.. take you out sometime.." "I dont know. you seem timid about what you're asking." you laugh playfully.

".. I dont know what that means." he takes his shades off but keeps his gaze anywhere but on you." you raise your eyebrows and stay put for a few seconds before bringing him down for a kiss. hes just some random guy from a party, what harm would this do? he'll forget about it by the morning.. hopefully. sam wasnt too bad of a kisser, but he was obviously he hadnt been kissed in a long time. he was desperate and a little sloppy.. grabbing onto your waist and snooping down to your ass.

to his unexpected surprise, you pulled away, causing him to whimper softly. "mmh.. whyd you do that? kiss me.." he keeps you caged in his arms, foreheads pressed together. "cause it was better to get to the point than letting you continue to embarrass yourself." you leave another kiss om his lips before bringing him to a closet and doing a few things.. 😊

by the end of the night, he got your number.. and twenty bucks from corey just because he was impressed. "your huzz game goes SO strong, dude." corey says.. and sam slaps him because thats stupid as fuck to say. "I already told you to not use words that I dont know, idiot."

@erosmutt @d0llfilth @xhunnybeeex @anakinstwinklebunny @literally-izzy

[b0n3s-is-gay]

can u do dallas winston smut w breeding kink🤭 like he HATES children but he won’t mind the reader pregnant with his child

Different

Synopsis: Time at Dally's place is always chaotic. Sweet sex just ain't in the cards, but nobody is complaining. (Porn with little Plot, I don't know what else to put)

Tags: Porn without a lot of plot, breeding kink (As stated in the request), talks of pregnancy, swearing (This is Dallas we're talking about), cigarettes, mentions of booze, Dallas is a warning himself, degrading(?), Praise, hair pulling, rough sex, set right before the events of the movie.

Dallas "I fucking hate kids" Winston, one might think that he doesn't want kids. And most the time, they're right. Kids aren't on the agenda, but seeing you taking care of Ponyboy and Johnny? Shit, he might be a goner.

That last bit of you taking care of Pony and Johnny was how you ended up here in the first place. It was an innocent gesture, 100%, but something about you caring for the boys just made him was a mini winston... Wouldn't be to bad of an idea, even if he didn't want kids a few months ago.

Now you're in bed, Dally fucking you from behind like a cheap whore. Voice raw as Dally just kept going. It had been 3... maybe 5 rounds and he was still fucking going.

"That's right- Fuck- you're doing such a good job... Such a good. fuckin'. job." Dally moaned loudly, punctuating his words with a thrust. "Such a good whore... Gonna fill you up, make you pregnant..."

Even if Dallas wasn't one for children, something about having them with you made this different. The way you talked, treated them, and acted like a mother rather than a friend to them...

"Such a good cunt... Gonna make you a momma..." Dally slurred as he leaned down to your neck and bit down, sucking and licking your pulse point as his fingers found their way to your swollen clit. "Bet you like that, don't you? Yeah... You're a good slut, a good momma..."

Dallas smirked as his cock bullied the spot inside your gummy walls that made your toes curl and your thighs shake. "Dally, n'more..." You begged as your head fell into his pillow.

"Come on, you can give me one more.. yeah? You can cum one more time on my cock, right pretty girl? You can take another load, right?" Dally grunted as he grabbed your hair and pulled you up so you couldn't cover your voice with his pillow.

Dally quickly flipped you over and pushed you into a position so you were facing him, moving you like you were a toy rather than a human. He then forced you to look at him thrusting into you. "Yeah... Take it..." Dally panted as he came for the final time of the night.

"Such a good girl..." He whispered as he gave you a deep kiss, pulling out of you and then looking down as his cum spilled out of your weeping hole. "Don't go wasting that now..." He chided as he used his fingers to push his cum back in, not letting a drop go to waste.

"'M serious about a kid, in case you couldn't tell..." He hummed as he lit a cigarette, watching as you twitched on his bed from overstimulation.

[bippot]

Damsel

Story Summary -> Vigilante notices a girl and her not-so-nice boyfriend arguing, and just as the hero is about to reprimand the bad boyfriend, she does something unexpected. When she finds him a week later, they come to learn that they mesh together quite well. Will that chemistry remain when she knows who's under the visor?

Tags -> Unhealthy Relationships, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Secret Identity, Idiots in Love, First Meetings, Coffee Date

Would you prefer to read this on AO3? Click here!

It was rare that the damsels Vigilante saved stuck around for much of a conversation. He'd kill the guy harassing them, the criminal's blood would splat on their pretty faces, and they'd run away in terror from the very sight of him. He'd get the occasional quiet, "Thank you," or the very loud, "Why the fuck did you kill him? You fucking weirdo!" but nothing more than that. Yeah, it sucked. He was used to it, though.

Maybe it was the suit. Adrian thought he had an approachable face, and his mask was hiding that. It wasn't as if he could risk taking his mask off - that would be so stupid - because anyone other than the 11th Street Kids knowing his identity was out of the question.

Then he came across a couple having an argument one night. That wasn't out of the blue: couples have arguments every day. Yet, they don't always happen at 12pm in the dingy alleyway between a shitty bar and a tattoo shop that had awful reviews - apparently, their infection rate was almost 80%. How they were still in business, he'd never know - and although the alley tended to be a hive of delinquency, there didn't seem to be any dealings going down. This wasn't a good place to hang out. Vigilante patrolled in this area for a reason.

The girlfriend was far too beautiful to be in this part of town. She was dressed up nice, far too nice, and had pretty nails and make-up as if she'd tried really hard to look her best for this date. The man, on the other hand, looked as if he was still wearing his work clothes. Even from where he was hiding behind the dumpster, Adrian couldn't help but notice how defeated she seemed. If she'd been livelier, maybe he would've enjoyed watching the whole thing go down. He could've treated it like he was watching one of those trashy reality shows, but, y'know, it was actual reality.

The girl was tired. So tired that she didn't care enough to raise her voice. She wasn't hysterical. There were no tears. No passion. Just a sad smile and an even sorrier, "I can't do this any more."

"Do what, babe?" The boyfriend replied, taking a drag of his cigarette, only to blow the smoke directly in her face. She let out a long-suffering sigh, waved it away, and stepped out of his breathing range.

"It's our anniversary, Charlie."

He scoffed, "I know that. Why the fuck do you think I brought you here?"

"I didn't expect to go to a perfect, like, fancy spot, but we could've gone to a restaurant, or maybe somewhere where your shoes don't stick to the floor because of how gross it is," the girl said, rubbing circles into her temples with her fingers in order to ease the headache that was forming. 

Adrian had only been in a few short-term relationships during his life. They never lasted long enough to reach an anniversary. But he knew that this bar was a poor choice of venue. It was cheap, seedy, filled with lowlifes, and, well, it smelt. Really bad. Boy, if Adrian was in the guy's position and had the chance to celebrate with a beautiful girl, he would've taken her to the new pizza place that opened a few doors down from Fennel Fields. It wasn't fancy, but there were candles and comfy booths and lots of flowers, and the food tasted fantastic. Every time he passed it, Adrian thought, 'That would be a nice spot to go on a date,' and that thought was immediately followed by the deprecating, 'Like, I could get a date.'

"I like this bar," Charlie defended himself. He flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Stomp it out for me, Y/N?"

Y/N looked down at her nice new shoes. She'd bought them specifically for tonight, and yeah, they were expensive and probably a bit impractical, but she wanted to make an effort. She agreed reluctantly and squished the butt underneath her shoe, but that was it. Y/N had never been a person who cared too much about appearances, whether about herself or those around her, and she knew that her shoe could be cleaned. In this moment, in the here and now, Y/N felt as if it mattered more than anything.

"Can we go home?" she urged, her voice so small and fragile that Charlie barely heard her at first. 

"I thought you wanted to fucking enjoy yourself, honey," Charlie responded, his expression hardening. "Do you think I wanted to do this tonight? My buddies said they were going to the range tonight, but I'm here. With you."

"Okay, Charlie." She wiped a hand down her face, smudging her eyeliner a bit. "Next time your buddies ask you to go to the range, you should go with them."

"Cool, thanks," Charlie grinned wolfishly, flashing a row of perfectly straight teeth. He didn't understand why she was being so chill about this whole thing, but he wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. 

Her hands rubbed up and down her bare biceps in order to warm herself up a bit. "Yeah, it's not as if you'll have a girlfriend to hold you back from doing whatever you want from now on," she announced confidently. She was determined, despite her fear, because she knew that her life would be so much worse without Charlie in it. 

Life as a single woman would be filled with freedom. No more arguments or screaming matches. No more being disappointed when Charlie chose his friends, his job, the Knicks game, and everything over her.

"Babe, knock it off," Charlie warned her.

It was at this part that Adrian knew what kind of guy Charlie was because just as Y/N was about to put some distance between them, he swiped his hand out and clamped his hand around her wrist, yanking her harshly towards him. "Ow. Let go, Charlie." She tried struggling free, but he held her tighter, keeping her firmly in place.

In an instant, Vigilante was revealing himself to step in. There was no way this situation could get any worse, right? If Vigilante stepped in now, the boyfriend would run away, and she'd be free of him from this moment on. "The lady wants to leave," Vigilante interrupted in a way so cheesy that the couple stopped in place instantly and stared at him. 

The arrival of this new person didn't cause Charlie to loosen his grip; quite the contrary. Y/N let out a pained whimper, and she was sure she'd have a red splotch on her skin when this was all over. "I think you might be hurting her, dude," Vigilante pointed out, taking a step closer to the pair, making Charlie tense up in anticipation of a fight. "You gonna let go, or do I have to make you let go?"

Charlie glared at the masked hero. "Fuck off," he growled. "She's my girl, 'dude.' I can do whatever I want with her."

Before Vigilante could say anything else, a punch happened. Y/N reared back and used her free hand to pummelled her boyfriend - ex-boyfriend now - right on his nose. He recoiled with a howl of pain, then cradled his reddened nose, looking ready to attack again.

"What the hell was that for?!"

Adrian was in love. He'd always been a sucker for a woman who was prepared to literally fight for herself. It was badass! She was a badass! She was so incredibly brave, fighting for herself instead of giving in.

With a grunt, Charlie lunged for Y/N, but Vigilante wedged himself between them before he got the chance. "Woah, woah, dude, cool your shit!" He pushed the guy away and stood protectively in front of Y/N. Vigilante, ever so gently, pulled her behind him like he was her personal bodyguard.

"It's probably best if you leave now, bud," Vigilante said, glancing down at Charlie, "Cause if you lay a hand on her again, I will force you to eat your own fingers."

That seemed to scare Charlie off a bit, since he took a step back. He glared at Vigilante for a second, thinking over how many bones the maniac would break if he tried one more time to grab his girlfriend and pull her away, before he realised that was a terrible idea. He scowled and muttered something under his breath, then turned to Y/N with a sneer. "We are going to talk about this tomorrow, Y/N."

"I will drop your stuff off on your doorstep tomorrow, but that's it."

"But-"

Vigilante unclipped his gun from his belt and waved it at Charlie. "I'm gonna shoot you in the ass in 3...2...."

Without hesitation, Charlie bolted down the street. Once he rounded the corner, Vigilante giggled, "The safety is on, fuckin' idiot!" to himself and placed the gun back on his belt.

Y/N didn't move from where she was standing. She stayed frozen in her spot until, all of a sudden, her throat released a joyous cheer; her eyes were bright and shiny, and she jumped up and down. She couldn't contain her excitement.

"Thank you!"

"Me? You're the one who sucker-punched him! You were just like, POW!" He mimicked her punch, and even though she couldn't see his face, she could tell that he had a wide grin. "Ooh, that had to hurt!"

She laughed, feeling so, so giddy, and she wrapped her arms around his torso to give him a big hug, causing him to stumble slightly, but he caught his balance. He didn't know what to do. What do you do when a random pretty girl throws herself at you? In Adrian's case, just stand there awkwardly as she hugs you. It wasn't exactly an experience he was well versed in.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump on you like that," she apologised, her cheeks burning. She pulled away from him and stepped backward. 

"No, no, it's okay," he insisted, trying to sound as confident as possible. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. "I uh... are you, y'know, good? Like, that was super cool and all, but does your fist hurt?"

"A little," she admitted, rubbing the knuckles of her right hand, which were beginning to swell. "It was kind of cool of me, wasn't it?"

"It was epic, Y/N!" He cheered. "Just super hot!"

Y/N laughed again, though this time it was far more flustered. She tried her hardest not to react in any way to his comment, but there was a prominent blush on her cheeks, which told a different story. And it only got worse when he continued to compliment her. 

"I mean, this dress is, like, perfect on you, and then you took a swing at him and..." He made a horny groan. "I gotta stop before I pop a boner."

He was expecting repulsion or disgust, but instead Y/N cackled. She had a great laugh. It was warm and bubbly, and she didn't seem to shy away from how lively it was.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that last part out loud," Adrian murmured as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, I, uh, wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw him grab you and..." 

He glanced down at her wrist to find that a red mark was already forming, so Adrian gently reached for her hand and brushed his gloved thumb across the sensitive skin there. "This is going to bruise. You got any Arnica at home?" he asked, concern colouring his tone.

"Probably, yeah. I bet there's a tube somewhere in my apartment."

"It sucks. Everyone knows you don't bruise pretty girls." He tipped his head just a little bit as if he was thinking. "Unless they ask and you have spoken about boundaries and consent and degrees of impact play beforehand."

Honestly, Y/N didn't know how to respond. He'd said it so casually, almost as if he hadn't complimented her, then proceeded to talk about safe, rough sex like he was talking about the weather. He continued to stroke his thumb across the veins in the middle of her wrist, and while she appreciated the gesture, she also didn't think it was fair to Charlie to indulge in this other man literally five minutes after their argument.

"I should... I should go," Y/N muttered quietly after a moment. Vigilante nodded, reluctantly letting go of her. "Thank you, again. Thank you for cheering me up. I needed it."

"Anytime."

He smiled softly, his gaze dropping to the ground momentarily before meeting hers once again. He gave her a nod and watched as Y/N started walking away, trying her best to ignore the overwhelming desire to get to know the funny guy in the hot superhero suit. Just before she was out of sight, she turned back around to give him a little wave, which he returned without hesitation. He waved his arm from side to side rather than his hand like a child. It made her laugh once again, and that was entirely his objective.

"She was so hot, oh my god," Adrian mumbled to himself. "Focus on patrol, dude. Gotta get my mind off that fuckin' babe."

To shake away the thoughts, he literally shook his whole body. He twisted and turned and swung his arms around as if he was performing a weird dance routine. After a few moments, he stopped moving and just stood still to see if it had worked.

He bet Y/N would've found his little jiggle funny.

"Shit."

Nope. The thought of her was still firmly planted in his mind. She was stuck there, and a part of him never wanted her to leave. It certainly didn't help that he came across her in the exact same alley a week later. She wasn't in date attire this time, just a nice t-shirt and skirt, but still was a knockout.

Clearly, two drunk guys also thought so too, as she was politely trying to decline their advances despite their persistent attempts to convince her to go on a date. They both seemed oblivious to her disinterest in their proposition and kept pressing her further, making her increasingly uncomfortable. "Come on, baby, let me show you a good time!" The first one cooed, reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinched away and attempted to move out of his reach. "Aw, c'mon, why you gotta be such a prude?!"

As Y/N went to reply, she noticed a familiar red visor walking up behind the two men. Vigilante was the reason why she was here. She'd intended to thank him for giving her the confidence to officially break up with her douchebag boyfriend and offer to buy him the most expensive cocktail that the bar sold. But as they often do, a man - or in this case, two men - had to go and try to ruin a woman's night.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"There we go, sweetheart, there's that smile you were missing," the other of the pair purred.

"Look behind you," she whispered with glee.

The two of them whipped their heads around, only to immediately lose all semblance of coherent thought when they caught sight of Vigilante. Their eyes bugged out, and they began stumbling backward, trying desperately to get away from the hero. 

"Heeeeeey, Vigilante, we were just talkin' to our girl and-"

"Oh, you were just talking?"

"Uh, yep."

Vigilante narrowed his eyes. The two guys looked scared shitless now and even though the red visor obscured his dark expression, his gaze, plus his posture and body language, gave him a dangerous aura. He slowly walked closer to them, and they scrambled to try to run away. The playfulness of his usual demeanour returned for a moment to ask Y/N, "Want me to beat them up?"

"Honestly, yeah. They're dicks."

"Fuckin' sick."

In an instant, Vigilante took the lid off the nearest bin and chucked it at the legs of the fleeing men, sending them sprawling onto the concrete floor with a cry of pain. Vigilante didn't waste a second before stalking towards them and focusing on the one who'd creepily stroked Y/N's face - who he called Creep #1 in his head - and kicking him in the stomach so the guy let out a whimper.

Creep #2 attempted to crawl away, but he didn't get very far. Vigilante grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him off the ground. The man stared up at him with fear in his eyes and started spouting gibberish, begging for forgiveness. Vigilante ignored him and lifted him right off the ground before slamming him against the wall. "Personally, I think you should apologise to the pretty lady. What do you think, Y/N? Do you want an apology?"

"I'd love an apology."

"You heard the lady," Vigilante urged, "Apologise."

Pathetically, the guy babbled out a few words, none of them understandable, before finally settling on the fact that he was sorry. With that being said, he started sobbing like an infant, begging for mercy and for someone else to save him. The sound of his pleas did nothing to deter Vigilante, however, and he simply dragged Creep #1 beside his buddy and held a gun to his head. "Your turn," Adrian hissed menacingly, pointing the barrel into Creep #1's temple.

Thanks to their previous meeting, Y/N knew that he hadn't clicked the safety off and knew that he was just threatening them like he'd done to her ex-boyfriend. She could indulge in the power of having Vigilante as a guard dog without having to worry that he was actually going to blow their brains out. Well, he could. With one little click, he could make this situation very messy. 

Maybe it would be best if she cut this short in order to prevent that from happening.

"If you promise to leave women who you don't know alone, I'll let you run away now," Y/N offered, and they were nodding frantically. 

They didn't need to be told twice and rushed to mumble out apologies before running away and disappearing down the opposite end of the alley.

"Fancy seeing you here, Y/N."

"I was looking for you."

This was unheard of. Nobody ever sought him out. Usually, it was the other way around.

"You were looking for me? Like, really?"

"Really."

He swung his arms back and forth like a child who couldn't sit still as the excitement bubbled up inside him. The possibility that she'd had one thought - even one that was fleeting and negative - about him was huge news. Their time together, no matter how short it had been, had left an imprint on her brain.

"I just wanted to, um, buy you a beer or cocktail or a smoothie or a coffee. Whatever you want, actually."

"What about a hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, I'll get you a hot chocolate. I don't know if there's a coffee shop open at this time, but we can look."

So, the search began. She began to walk out of the alley in search of a cafe, and he hurried after her, trying not to make a fool of himself by tripping over his own because he couldn't stop staring at her ass. Did he stumble after every other step? Yes, yes he did. Adrian caught up with her eventually. She'd been talking to him about something, probably guesstimating how far they'd have to walk, and thanks to the mask, she had no idea that his brain was switching between 'wow, she has a great ass' and 'stop being a fucking pervert.'.

Soon, a glowing Starbucks logo could be seen in the glowing distance, and, luckily, it was in the safer part of town that she'd parked in. Y/N guided him towards her vehicle.

"Why are you buying me hot chocolate?"

Y/N nonchalantly shrugged and kept her eyes on the street ahead of her. "To say thanks for saving me from an awful relationship... and just then, I guess, so double thanks."

"Oh." He was so relieved that she couldn't see the dopey expression on his face or the pink across his cheeks and nose. "Double you're welcome, then."

The pair decided that it would be best if they used the drive-through. The wanted serial murderer Vigilante couldn't walk into a Starbucks without someone calling the cops on him. That wouldn't have gone down well at all. Besides, it was nice for them to continue their alone time.

While Y/N ordered and interacted with the bored teen at the drive-through window, Vigilante ducked down into the footwell in the hopes he couldn't be seen. "Who's that guy?" The college kid at the window asked as they pointed towards the lump of Kevlar in the passenger's seat. 

Furrowing her brows as if she was confused by the question, Y/N smirked, "What guy?" and drove away before any further investigation could be conducted, leaving the poor kid to wonder whether he was seeing things.

They parked up in a nearby lot and just sat there, talking, both taking sips of their hot chocolates as they spoke. It was a bit weird to watch an adult man push a straw up his superhero mask in order to consume a whipped cream-topped drink, but Y/N had to admit that he was quite cute while doing so. And even when their drinks had completely depleted, they continued talking. Adrian had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be on patrol, but as much as he tried, he was unable to focus properly on anything else when Y/N was sitting next to him with that beautiful smile of hers.

"How does your mask work?" Y/N enquired, and there was a hint of something in her voice that Adrian couldn't quite place in the moment, but he would come to understand in a minute or two.

"It's a pull-on."

"Yeah?" She leaned across the gearstick, her fingers drifting from the centre of his chest up to the hemline of his mask. She hesitated a moment before her forefinger delved underneath the fabric. "Is it a full-on/full-off kind of thing? Or can you, y'know, roll it up to here?"

With her other hand, she poked at the area between the top of his lip and nose.

"It can roll," Adrian said in almost a whisper. His heart was beating hard and fast. 

Why wasn't he doing anything? She was one tug away from revealing his identity, and he just sat there, completely frozen. He watched as she lifted the bottom of his mask and rolled it up enough to reveal his mouth, which was parted slightly in surprise. Did he have any idea what she was doing and why he was letting her do this? No, not a clue. Did he just accept whatever it was she'd planned, assuming that would respect his boundaries despite the fact that they didn't really know each other?

Luckily, what she wanted to do was exactly the same as what he wanted to do.

"Vigilante?"

"Hmmm...?"

He'd often been told that he was dumb, but right here in this moment, he was so glad that there was nothing in his brain. He couldn't form a coherent sentence, so he didn't even try. He willingly let her tilt his chin and didn't even try to hide the way his breath hitched because of that.

"I don't have a boyfriend anymore. I'm completely single and want to thank you for saving me. So...?"

"Oh!"

Now, he understood. His lips were on hers immediately, and he kissed her with everything he had in him. His hands moved to cup her cheeks, fingers ghosting along the contour of her face until they met her hair and tangled themselves in her strands, holding her to him like a lifeline.

"You taste like hot chocolate," he mumbled against her mouth as he pulled away, causing her smile to stretch wider than she thought possible.

"So do you."

She smiled coyly, her voice barely above a murmur, before she leaned back in again. They kissed again. And again. Each time growing more heated than the last.

"C'mere," he whined as he moved his arm around her hips, gently tugging her across the console and onto his lap. She brought her legs up on either side of him, allowing herself to press against his chest and her hands gripping onto the fabric of his suit.

With every passing second and each smack of their lips, the desire that was beginning to build up in Adrian grew stronger. His suit was great for battle, but thanks to his mask and gloves, his touch sensitivity was severely lacking, so he broke apart for as long as it took to bite his gloves off. As soon as they were removed, he couldn't stop the way his palms had drifted from where they started just above her knee up to her thigh, the edge of her skirt brushing against his bare hand, and up and up and up until he had a handful of her ass.

"Fuck," Adrian muttered as he felt her panties under his thumb. He couldn't think of a better word to describe the sensation. It was overwhelming. Exhilarating. And so, so sexy. 

It was 'Fuck.' 

"Fuck," she echoed. The word was breathless, a little husky, and filled with longing and need. She had to pull away. Her breath was heavy, her chest rising and falling in excitement as they looked at each other with lustful eyes. "Do you wanna, - I can't believe I'm going to ask this like we're horny teenagers - wanna get in the backseat?"

Vigilante stared at her for what seemed to be forever as he processed what she'd said. A smirk found its way onto his lips, making his dimples appear. "You mean, like, fuckin'? Right?" he felt the need to confirm, just to make sure. 

He'd read situations like this wrong before, and he didn't want to fuck this up. She nodded and laughed a short, breathy laugh, and suddenly, he was laughing too.

"Awesome, I'd be honoured to fuck you."

Though her car wasn't the biggest, she was climbing past the gap between the front seats. For a few brief seconds, her ass was directly beside his head, and, yeah, Adrian wasn't going to pass up a chance to spank her. "Hey!" She exclaimed, though there wasn't a hint of anger in her tone or annoyance on her features. 

Instead, Y/N sat in the backseat and beckoned Vigilante to follow her with a seductive finger curl. Obviously, he complied and was crawling his way into the back of the vehicle for some debauchery. The car got all steamed up from all their heavy breathing and general sweatiness combined. It wasn't the most comfortable they'd ever been, to say the least, but they were still incredibly satisfied when all was said and done.

Y/N flopped her forehead onto Vig's shoulder pad as she caught her breath, her heart rate slowly coming back down to normal after their physical activity.

"I really liked fucking you," he said bluntly, "Like, seriously, that was amazing. Fuckin' fantastic."

"I really liked being fucked by you."

She did an extremely unattractive snort, but that didn't deter him from tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and cupping her cheek. Their faces were inches apart, and he could see all of her freckles and each little detail of her facial features. He wanted to memorise every single one of them, no matter how fleeting these moments might turn out to be.

Vigilante placed a soft, gentle kiss on the side of her head and put a hand behind her neck to massage it gently, making her sigh blissfully and relax more into his embrace. "We should go soon. I think this parking lot closes at 12," he commented. Y/N looked up at the visor still covering his gaze, her eyes going all doe-ish, and hummed in agreement. 

Yeah, she wanted to stay in this moment for as long as she was allowed to, but she'd definitely be fined, and her car would be stuck in the lot until the morning. 

"I have an apartment," she added.

"Oh, cool. So do I."

"Let me rephrase that. I have an apartment with a big, comfy bed that I wouldn't mind - " Y/N paused to brush her thumb along his bottom lip. " - sharing with you."

"...Wha? Are you being for real? Am I dreaming?" 

This was going so well that there was a high probability that it was a fantasy. Maybe if Adrian closed his eyes hard enough, he'd wake up to find himself lying in bed at home with a wet patch on the sheets. But they proceeded to repeat the debauchery as soon as they stepped within the threshold of her apartment, and then they repeated it again and again. And again the next day. And the day after that too. And quickly, a routine began.

Every night, Vigilante would: 1) carry out his patrol, 2) make his way to her apartment, and 3) then tug the bottom half of his mask up as he knocked on her front door. He would be bringing her into a snog the second she was revealed to him.

They didn't always fuck - though it was more often than not - but often found themselves chatting away instead, laughing or telling stories, and sometimes even just kissing. It was as if they were a couple, except for the fact she had no idea who he was.

But she would. Life has a way of making things happen, no matter how unexpected or unwanted the thing may have been. Was it Y/N's choice to go to Fennel Fields for a family dinner? No, that was her father's fault. He'd heard that the mozzarella sticks were pretty tasty, and that was enough to sway her ol' pa.

Throughout the dinner, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She had no idea whether it was malicious voyeurism or maybe she just had something in her teeth. Either way, she could feel eyes burning a hole through her skull. She glanced around for a clue of what was going on or who it might be, but there was no sign of anything amiss.

"You okay, honey?" Y/N's mother whispered, noticing how distracted she had been. It wasn't that unusual for Y/N to zone out during family dinners, especially when her brother's stories got super boring, which they often did. 

"Hmmm...? Yes, yeah, I'm okay." Her eyes scanned the restaurant once more. Still nothing. "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

On her way to the ladies, Y/N noticed a certain busboy with serial killer specs that seemed somewhat familiar to her. A customer asked him a question, and he tilted his head to the side and looked upwards as if he was searching his brain for what to say. Weird. Vigilante did that too. 

It had been hard to notice at first. The visor hid most of his facial mannerisms, but she always had a particular fondness for his eyes. Honestly, it may have been a coincidence. People are allowed to share mannerisms. A lot of people talk with their hands, but that simple commonality doesn't mean the individuals are alike in any way. 

So, she let it slide and went to the bathroom just as she said she would.

It was unfortunate for Adrian that the layout of the restaurant meant that to get to the kitchen, you'd have to pass by the entrance to the bathrooms. He'd been attempting to avoid Y/N as soon as he saw her arrive. That became impossible to do as the pair bumped into each other when he walked directly in front of the bathroom door as she was exiting it.

If he didn't have super quick reflexes, they both would have been wiped out. He managed to regain his footing and grabbed hold of her elbows to steady her and stopped Y/N from tumbling backward. His eyes widened as soon as he realised who was before him, and he quickly let go of her arms as soon as he registered who she was.

"Oh, shit! I'm so sorry. Did I-"

Same mannerisms, same voice, and now that he was up close, she could see that the bottom half of his face was similar to. She hovered her palm over the top portion of his face, and yeah, things made sense now. This random busboy was Vigilante. There was no way she could've mistaken him. 

She cooed, "Hey, baby."

Every single particle of Adrian's being wanted to soften, but he kept his mouth in a frown. Sure, the corners of his lips kept twitching upwards, but he was trying.

"D-do, do I k-know you?" He stammered, though he was very unconvincing. 

The cat was out of the bag, and there wasn't any way it could be stuffed back in. Not when she titled his name badge so she could read what it said.

"I'll see you later, Adrian. Leave this uniform on for me. There's no need to dress up, okay?"

With those words, she gave him a peck on the cheek and returned to her family dinner without giving him the chance to protest. Adrian stared after her for what felt like hours before his manager yelled at him to get back to work.

Working after that was hard. His mind was elsewhere. It was running through all the scenarios that could go wrong because of this interaction. All of them ended terribly. And all of them ensured that his work performance had plummeted dramatically. So dramatically, in fact, that his boss thought he'd come down with some fast-acting disease and sent him home early.

Adrian was at Y/N's apartment half an hour before she got home. He'd debated with himself about picking her lock multiple times but ultimately decided against it since he was dressed as himself and one of her neighbours had greeted him as they passed.

"Fancy seeing you here, Vig." She whispered his name teasingly and smiled at him as she opened the door for him.

"Uh... hi," he murmured, unsure of what else he should say. He cleared his throat and tried for a nonchalant, "...Can I come in?"

"You usually just walk in these days," she responded, closing the door behind him and crossing her arms across her chest.

"Well... um..." He scratched the back of his head nervously, shifting his weight from foot to foot, "I wanted to see you. And, uh, for you to... see me. I totally understand if you're not into it now that the mystery is gone, but-"

He was cut off as Y/N pulled him closer by his collar, placing her hands on either side of his face and pressing her lips against his own. Adrian's eyes closed as he reciprocated the kiss, slowly leaning his body closer and closer towards hers.

"I imagined what you looked like so many times."

"I'm sorry. You probably were expecting -"

Once again, he was interrupted by Y/N snogging the hell out of him. "You're better than what I expected, so pretty," she breathed between kisses. Adrian ran his fingers through her hair and held her firmly against him. Their tongues entwined together, sending sparks of electricity throughout their bodies.

It took 0.0000002 seconds for him to come to a decision on how to proceed. His shirt was whipped off and thrown somewhere else before his lips pressed against hers and pinned her to the nearest wall.

"Promise to keep my secret?"

"What secret?"

"...The Vigilante thing."

"Yeah, I know. I was doing the... forget it. I promise not to tell anyone about your alter ego, Vee."

Y/N giggled when she felt Adrian's nose gently bump hers. Gently, she took his hand and led him towards her bedroom. She'd done that so many times before, yet this was the first instance where she got to witness the lovesick look on his face.

From here on out, she would continue to see that look since it had never left his face when she was around. And if he happened to have his visor on, she knew what was hidden underneath and how dopey of a smile he'd have.

*Click here for my masterlist*

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[dollyzdaydreamz]

Whiskey and Worn out Souls

John Marston x Fem! Reader (Dutch's daughter) Description: The events at blackwater and your fathers erratic behavior has you caught up in your thoughts at the saloon with the gang as they celebrate a petty win over the O'Driscolls. Two men decide to heckle you over your gunslinging outfit and you can't help but let your frustrations out on them. ⚠️Warnings: Violence (reader is a gunslinger, reference to Blackwater massacre) sexism, some people drink, reader has Dutch’s smart mouth, reader doesn’t drink but smokes a cig (don't smoke yall:)

angst/overthinking, daddy issues lowkey (^-^)

⚠️forgive grammatical errors, it's literally 2 AM rn (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ⚠️i dont own any of the rdr2 characters, they belong to Rockstar (≧▽≦)

The saloon was a lively mess, full of drunken laughter, piano playing, and the ever-present stench of stale beer and poor decisions. The gang had taken a petty victory against the O’Driscoll's as a reason to celebrate, and the drinks kept on coming. But while the others laughed and drank, you sat against the bar in your usual gunslinging attire: the pistol gifted by your father long ago strapped to your hip, a bullet belt around your waist, worn down jeans that reached just past your ankle, a shirt under your fur lined vest, and muddy boots. Your mood was darker than the cheap liquor in the bottles laid out on the counter. 

You were trapped in deep thought as you fiddled with a chip of wood on the oddly sticky bar counter. Maybe, it was the Pinkertons steering closer to the gang, seemingly breathing down your necks at every train heist or bank robbery. Maybe it was seeing your fathers slow, yet subtle dissent to an even more distasteful degeneracy, ever since Micah’s unfortunate introduction to the gang. Maybe, it was the image of that poor woman’s brain plastered on the wall in Blackwater after your father had let a bullet fly at her skull upon Micah’s encouragement.

A few of the boys, noticing your off-mood, had asked if you wanted to join them across the bar, but you quietly declined, unable to shake the confusing thoughts whirling in your brain.

Which meant, of course, that some fool had to try your patience.

“That ain’t no way for a pretty lady to dress, miss” a baritone voice drawled beside you.

“I don't know, somethin’ about a woman in men’s clothing does something for me.” a more nasally voice chuckled. 

You barely spared a glance at the men, hoping they'd get bored and run off with one of the working girls eventually.

Across the room, John shifted slightly, already pushing off his chair to intervene, but Dutch lifted a lazy hand, stopping him.

“Hold on there,” your father warned him, leaning back in his seat with a small grin. “Let’s just…enjoy the show” 

You shifted in your seat to face them when you realized they weren’t going to leave just yet, eyeing them down as you fished a cigarette out of your pocket. One, a wiry rat-faced fella with the confidence of someone who'd never been clocked in the mouth. His friend, bigger and dumber-looking, smirked. His yellowed teeth at display as his eyes lazily raked over your figure.

You scoffed as you brought the cigarette to your lips and crossed a foot over your knee to light a match with the sole of your boot, “And who’re you two? The local drunk and his pet pig?”

The bigger man blinked “Huh?”

He huffed, trying to regain his footing. “Well, you uh-you look like you belong in…one of them mens whorehouses up north that folk talk ‘bout.”

You snort, admittedly finding the insult a bit creative, “Like the one your pa’ works at?” 

Arthur choked on his whiskey from across the room,

“He still doin’ those two-for-one deals, or did business slow down?” you asked, feigning curiosity.

Micah, of all people, stifled a chuckle behind his beer glass, leaning forward with interest, always up for listening in on some stirring drama.

The broader man frowned. “The hell did you just say ‘bout my pa?”

“Ah your right, I was outta line mentioning your father…” you apologized.

“Damn right” the smaller one said, puffing out his sternum.

“Maybe I should’ve asked if your mama was givin’ out referral discounts” you added, crushing your cigarette with your heel before standing up and meeting the oaf face to face. 

That was the final straw. The bigger man snarled and raised his beer bottle at you,

“Who the hell do you think you are little girl?!”

Feeling a fit of anger wash over your previous indifference, your patience snapped,

“Give me that,” you grunted, snatching the bottle from him, “I’m your old friend amnesia.” (stealing lines from my pookie John(✿◡‿◡)

Without a flicker of hesitation, you smashed it over his thick head.

The man staggered, eyes rolling, before dropping to the ground in a dazed heap.

You dusted off your hands and turned to the remaining man, who was frozen in shock.

Rat-Face took one look at his unconscious friend and quickly decided he had somewhere else to be.

“Now,” Dutch groaned as he stood up, slamming his bottle onto the counter with a piercing clink “does any other brave soul care to share their unsolicited fashion advice with my daughter?” He asked, putting his arm around you as he grandly gestured to the audience.

Silence.

“Alright, boys, let’s clear out. Leave the lady be,” Arthur sighed, shaking his head as he approached the lingering onlookers, “unless you wanna end up like this poor feller” he mumbled giving the unconscious giant a sympathetic look. 

The small crowd eventually wandered off, some returning to their drinks whilst some distracted themselves with poker. 

Dutch tapped a heavy hand on your shoulder, “I trained you fairly well.” He chuckled drunkenly with Micah, who turned to you with a loopy smile,

“Youu, had them twisted like a pair of knickers!” him and Dutch cackled once more, before taking another swig of beer. 

Your gaze drifted to the man on the floor, then at your crimsoned hand, before it caught the dried O’Driscoll blood on your father’s knuckles as he tightly gripped his beer glass. A shiver ran down your spine, What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe I am a damn man, starting dumb bar fights. Suddenly you were hit with the overwhelming need to just get out of there. You sighed, grabbing your hat from the counter and pushing your way past the saloon doors.

John’s grin faltered as he watched you grab your hat and storm out of the saloon, clearly still stewing in your thoughts.

He exhaled and followed.

He found you by the lake, leaning against a lamppost, flicking stones into the water absentmindedly. The moonlight reflected off the surface, casting a silver glow over the waves and onto your face.

John approached quietly, hands in his pockets. He picked up a rock and tossed it in, but instead of skipping, it plopped straight down.

You huffed. “You never were good at that.”

John smirked. “Well, at least I didn't drown tryin’ this time.”

You turned, arching a brow, oblivious to his obscure reference.

He crossed his arms, leaning on the post beside you. “You really don’t remember? When we were kids? That time I tried skippin’ a rock real far to compete with you, but I-” he faltered a little, face flushing slightly, “I tripped and fell face-first into the lake.”

You paused, raking your mind for the memory until it came back with a chuckle, “Right, now I remember. Arthur had to haul you out, didn’t he?”

“Damn right he did,” John muttered. “I thought I was done for!”

You let out a small chuckle, but your face still held that quiet tension.

John sighed, skipping another rock. “You wanna tell me what’s…goin’ on? or are you just gonna keep throwin’ stones ‘til the lake dries up?”

You hesitate, rolling a smooth rock between your fingers, unsure of how to express everything on your mind. 

“I guess…” you exhaled, feeling your chest tighten, “I just keep thinkin’ about what happened on that boat in Blackwater. About my fathers recent…behavior. That woman? She didn’t-she didn’t deserve that.” 

You slouched, kicking the ground with your feet, “but if I say somethin’ then suddenly I’m just a doubter, hell maybe even a softie. Now I got random bastards at every corner telling me I ain't ladylike enough for not wearin’ a damn corset with my jeans” you huff, throwing another stone.

John’s faltered, initially unsure of how to comfort you, “Well…they don’t know a damn thing about you.”

“Maybe,” you murmured. 

“But sometimes-” you turn to him, letting out an exasperated sigh, “I wonder if I even know me.” 

“Well, what do you mean?” 

“I spent my whole life hating my father’s ways, the blood he’s spilled,” you look at your cut up hand with a flicker of shame, “but, really, I’m just like him.” 

John was silent for a moment before shaking his head. “That don’t make you him. You ain’t Dutch. You’re you. There ain’t a soul in this world that can tell you who that is but yourself.”

You looked at him, feeling something warm settle your chest, before thinking of a quick way to divert the sensation “Well, that might be the most well put together sentence you ever uttered Marston.” 

John rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” 

He nudged you with his shoulder, before turning around to head back to the saloon.

“And Marston?” you call out, to which he turns back around

“if I ever see you near a lake again, just—y’know. Make sure Arthur’s around.”

He let out a genuine laugh, shaking his head before walking back, and for the first time that night, the weight on your shoulders felt just a little lighter.

divider is made by dollywons on tumblr :) images from pinterest, but collaged by me

[assortedseaglass]

Talk Refined - Chapter One

Michael Gavey x Reader

[Masterlist]

Summary: When Michael Gavey unwittingly insults a fellow Oxford student, they enter into a game of intellectual cat and mouse.

Content Warnings (this chapter in bold): Language, Smut, Saltburn Spoilers

Pool was never your forte. Truth be told, you were more of a darts girl. There was something though, in the soft click of the balls knocking together and the damp thunk of them landing in the pocket that scratched an itch on your over-worked mind.

Hilary term was coming to an end, and with it brought the dread that your extended essay title had been submitted. ‘“For the sake of some colour;” women as decoration, in response to Turner’s High Street, Oxford (1810)””. No going back now.

You’d escaped the January madness that had descended on your best friend, Esme. Like most other courses, she had exams at the start of the new year and spent her days in the library and nights in the pub. Much like now, come to think of it.

“You’re up,” you called to your friend as you missed potting a red. “Esme!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she shimmied between the pool table and a few pub patrons, taking her cue in hand and leaning over the felt green. Click, thunk. A yellow sank into the corner pocket.

“Who were you talking to?” You indicated a man in his early twenties, eyeing up Esme’s backside as she leant over the table to reach another yellow.

“Bartender,” she missed the ball and passed the cue back over the table. You took it and swiftly potted a red. “Nice one. Just borrowing this,” she lit her cigarette with a metal lighter. When she was done, she tossed it back to the bartender and he winked.

The two of you’d met at a humanities and arts, inter-college social less than two weeks into your first term. Dress as your subject and be ready for a night of frivolity even Elagabalus couldn’t imagine. You’d found some of silk scarves in a charity shop, bought cheap pearls from Primark and gone as the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Outside the Blenheim was where you first spotted her. Dressed in a bedsheet draped as a peplos, she had climbed a lamppost and was swigging wine straight from the bottle. That is a girl I want to be friends with, you’d thought, and promptly beelined for her and begged for the bottle.

“You doing philosophy?” You asked after chugging the cheap merlot.

“Classics. And you, I’m guessing history-”

“History of art, yeah.”

The next morning, you’d woken in her dorm room at Brasenose, the autumn sunlight blinding and your breath smelling as if something had crawled inside you and died there. Esme didn’t mind. Her mouth was stained red from the wine and a hickey the size of Brazil adorned her neck. You’d been inseparable ever since.

“Bollocks,” you missed potting a red and, as Esme swept to grab to pool cue, the pub erupted in song.

“RUBY RUBY RUBY RUBY!”

“Ahah ahah ahaaaaaaaah!” Esme sang the refrain in your ear as she twirled you round, the cue discarded on the table.

“DO YA DO YA DO YA DO YA!?”

“Fuck’s sake,” It was hard not to smile despite your best efforts. You felt like a twat but no-one was looking at you. All were too busy singing to notice the two tipsy girls dancing by the pool table. In any case, the only person whose opinion mattered to you was the one spinning you in her arms. One wayward spin and bumped you into the pool table. Giggling, you opened your arms to be embraced once more-

“Oh shit,” Esme whispered hastily, suddenly standing straight and flattening her hair. “Got any lip gloss?”

“Erm,” you patted your pockets. “No sorry.”

“Damn,”

“Who’ve you seen?” you smirked, standing by your best friend’s shoulder and following her line of sight. Well, it could have been any number of students in the packed pub. There were some rugby lads, double polos with both collars popped. Pretty boy Felix Catton and his posse of poshos. It could have even been that girl Eleanor, now greeting a friend at the bar. Esme and Eleanor hooked up at the Brasenose Christmas party. Esme said it was “unexpected” and “not her usual flavour”, but you’d met her once after tutorial, and the way she looked at her tutor’s bottom as it wiggled down the corridor in her Peacock’s pencil skirt was not one of envy. “Well?” You asked impatiently. “Who is it?”

“There, blue check shirt, dark hair.” Esme pointed at the bar where such a man was standing. Two pints of lager in hand, he turned and seemed to look around the pub. “Cute, isn’t he? He’s at Brasenose too, doing English I think.”

“Oh right.” As a Wadham girl, you had never seen this boy before. You supposed he was quite good-looking, in a boy-next-door sort of way. You thought perhaps he would be bonny, were it not for the solemn expression on his face. He meandered through the crowd to a small table at which sat another boy.

The two were starkly different. Where Esme’s boy was dark haired, the other was fair. Esme’s boy was stocky, but even sat down the other was gangly, and while Esme’s boy clearly wasn’t an avid reader of Esquire, the blond boy looked like he’d rolled around Oxfam’s bargain bin in total darkness and worn whatever stuck; a pair of baggy cargo shorts pulled up far too high and cinched tightly with a black belt, a pair of Merrell trainers and a novelty tshirt. THIS IS HOW I ROLL. Below the wording was an anagram and equation.

If it weren’t for the middle-aged glasses and frankly atrocious haircut, he’d be quite good looking too. Two Oxford virgins; Trinny and Susannah’s wet dream.

“What’s his name then?”

“Oliver, I think.” Esme was licking her lips and fussing with her bangles.

“You look great,” you swatted at her hand. “And the other one?”

“No idea. They’re always hanging around together. Oliver,” she said his name with some uncertainty. “Oliver never says anything, the other one’s always talking a mile a minute but I haven’t really seen him about. Doesn’t go to any parties.”

“Him and the girl with-”

“Agoraphobia.” You said in unison. The characters of Esme’s college were more vivid to you now than those in a Dickens novel.

“I bet he does maths,”

“I told you, he does English.”

“No,” you tut. “The other one.”

“I reckon it’s physics.”

“Put a pint on it?”

“You’re on,” Esme smacked your hip. “Come on, there’s a table by the bar.”

Following the plume of her cigarette smoke, Esme led you to the sticky wooden table and ordered you a pint of Thatchers. She, a pint of Stella. At the table beside you both, Maybe Oliver and The Other One were talking quickly. Well, the maths-slash-physics boy was. Maybe Oliver was staring distractedly towards the other end of the pub. You looked over your shoulder. Felix Catton was settling down with another round of beers, his stupid eyebrow piercing gleaming in the low pub lights.

“Swap with me,” Esme whispered.

“What?”

“Swap with me so I can look at Oliver.”

You sighed and stood up, shuffling round the table to sit parallel to Oliver. Esme smiled at him as she sat down and he smiled back. When she giggled, you kicked her under the table. Now across from maths-slash-physics, you could see him clearly.

This close, you stood by your assessment that he could have been handsome. His light eyes were framed by not just those hideous glasses but thick, dark lashes. He had a jawline and cheekbones that would make Agyness Deyn jealous. His lips, though strangely curved were plump, and he had a distracting habit of frequently wetting them. But there was something so distinctly and undefinably creepy about him. He talked like a snake, quickly with hissed “s”s and “t”s. You noticed with unease that he barely blinked as he watched for any minutia in his friend’s reaction, and he moved with an almost jerky stiffness. All elbows and angles. This strange combination of beautiful and revolting made him impossible to ignore. Like catching yourself in the mirror after dying your hair. A strange feeling of the uncanny.  

He caught your eye, sensing you staring at him, and you quickly glanced at Esme. Shit. She’d been talking to you about something.

“-of course, it’s easy to compare the Iliad and the Aeneid, but really they’re very different.”

Aha. She was trying to impress, hoping Maybe Oliver would hear. “Oh yes?” You leant forward on your arm and wiggled your eyebrows at her. “Tell me more.”

Esme was clearly delighted that you’d cottoned on to her plan. Brushing her hair from her shoulders and leaning forward too, she continued. “Well, you have to start with the language. One is Greek and one is Latin. Now, we go through this in linguistics. Everyone has to get up to speed with their Greek and Latin so we’re all on the same level-”

You giggled and she kicked you under the table. Esme knew you already knew this and didn’t care. You knew that Esme was just showboating. When you kicked her back she got the giggles and glanced at Maybe Oliver. His eyes were still trained on the back of the pub, and she sighed, taking a gulp of beer. In perfect symmetry, you drank your cider and in the lull you admired the lengths your friend went to flirt with a seemingly average boy.

“-Jameson spends the whole time staring at her tits, completely ignoring the fact she can barely do her times tables.”

Esme choked a little on her drink and your eyebrows shot upwards with barely contained glee. This was far more interesting. You and Esme watched each other, communing telepathically about the intriguing conversation between the boys next to you.

“-times tables, Oliver!”

“Told you it was maths!” You whispered at Esme. Without a word, she got up with a smile to buy you another pint.

“-just fuck off and do history of art, love, save us all the trouble!”

You stilled in your seat, cider halfway to your lips. Did he just-? You ran the sentence over in your mind. “Fuck off and do history of art, love, save us all the trouble.” It wasn’t the first time you’d encountered snobbery about your selected study. Friends from school deemed it “hoity-toity,” and even your parents had worried about your career prospects.

“But what can you actually do with a history of art degree?”

You’d thought Oxford would be different. Surrounded by other young minds, eager for knowledge and an appreciation of the world around them, freshly opened up like your first bottle of champagne; long-awaited, exciting and with a little bit of bite. Just for the adults.

“Excuse me?” Your heart was pounding in your chest as you leant over a little and smiled at the pair of boys. You were proud of your subject but that eagerness to prove its, and your, worth was impossible to ignore. Oliver and Maths Boy looked at you.  “Do you,” you cleared your throat. “What’s wrong with history of art?”

The gangly boy scoffed and turned rigidly in his chair to face you. Like most other nerds, you’d expected him to shy away from anyone outside of his carefully selected circle. This boy, however, seemed to take up an enormous space in your mind. He was confident. Already taken aback by his vicious comment, that threw you even more.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s an easy option that’s become an elitist haven for the middle class.” He pushed his glasses up his long nose with a bony finger. “You ever met any of those ‘students’?” He put air quotes around that last word and you flinched, neck bristling with anger. You doubt he’d have noticed if you put your top over your head and did the Cupid Shuffle; he continued as if nothing happened.

“Load of public-school wankers spouting their useless opinions on aristocrats lounging about in gilded frames, just so they can justify getting a job in daddy’s gallery. It’s an irrelevant, niche subject for people who think their view of the world is superior to us mere plebs’.”

“Michael,” Oliver murmured. He turned to you, not quite looking you in the eye. “Sorry-”

“Here’s your pint,” Esme placed another Thatchers before you. Both you and “Michael” ignored your friends.

“You think it’s irrelevant?” You took a swig of cider without taking your eyes off him. Angry little prick, this fella. You knew the like; maths, physics, economics, law. The students were all the same. Thinking they were better than everyone else because they could swan off into the sunset with £40k job straight out of uni and reap the benefits that the arts provided them without any need to know better. The designer clothes and fast cars, the beautiful buildings they worked in, the nails on the woman ripping open the condom wrapper…

“What’s irrelevant?” Esme said brightly. She held out her hand for Oliver. “Esme, hi.”

“Oliver-”

“History of art, apparently.” You said haughtily.

“Ouch. Who said that?” Esme sat down beside you, still smiling at Oliver.

“Michael.”

“Who’s Michael?”

“Michael Gavey.” The man in question announced himself by extending a long arm in Esme’s direction. She shook his with slight shock and raised her eyebrows at Oliver. He lowered his head in shame.

“Our girl here’s a history of art student.” Esme patted your hand. If you, Esme and Oliver expected this to soften Michael, it didn’t work.

“Ah,” he smiled, mirth lighting his eyes. “That’s why you’re so tetchy. Which school was it then? Cheltenham? Roedean?”

“She went to state comp actually,” Ever your champion, Esme came to your defence.

“Scholarship student?” Michael sneered.

“No,” you rebuffed quickly.

“What’s wrong with that? Me and Oliver here are.”

“Nothing You were the one trying to get me to say it was.”

Michael smiled with satisfaction and an awkward silence fell between the four of you. The clink of glasses and drunken chatter continued around you. This wasn’t the first charged student encounter that had happened in this pub, nor would it be the last.

“I suppose you think maths is superior?” You folded your arms and raised an eyebrow. A challenge. Prove it then.

“Of course it is,”

It was your turn to scoff. “Why can’t there be room for both?”

“There is room for both. Mathematics is just more important.”

“Jesus,” Oliver rubbed his hands over his face.

“Mathematics is the foundation for everything. The modern world as we know it wouldn’t exist without it. Technology, healthcare, finance, governance, everything. It prevents chaos. Without mathematics, society would collapse.” He fidgeted in his chair to turn more vividly towards you, his hands excitedly grasping for something in front of him that didn’t exist. Maths, probably. “We create predictions and complex design systems so that life as we know it can exist, and continue to exist.”

He looked at you as though you should have been impressed. You supposed his excitement was quite sweet. In truth, you knew maths was important. History of art student though you were, you weren’t an idiot. You were at one of the world’s top universities for God’s sake.

“But what’s the point of existing if there’s nothing to enjoy? To live for?”

“Pardon?” What had he expected? For you to roll over and kiss his feet? Take him round the back of the pub for a quick knee tremble? “Oh yes, Michael, tell me more about Fermat’s conjecture! More! More!”

“Art is what makes life worth living for. Its history helps us understand politics, religions, societies and peoples of the past.”

“All that from staring at a Bruegels?” Michael looked at Oliver with a laugh, hoping for back up. Oliver was tearing up a beer mat.

“Yes!”

“Well, it’s never done anything for me.”

His arrogance and ignorance was astounding. This final comment was the drop that sent you overflowing with exasperation. “Yes it has,” you snapped. Michael glared at you. “Aside from what I literally just said, art has done everything for you. Take today for example.”

At this, Michael sat forward. He couldn’t resist a reasoned argument with concrete evidence.

“You woke up this morning at Brasenose, is it?” He nodded. “At Brasenose, in a dorm with Carol Vorderman posters on the walls, posters designed by graphic designers who studied art. Those posters line the walls of a building almost five hundred years old. From barely known architects to Powell and Moya, each added to its history with their extensive understanding of art and beauty. For some reason you then got up and decided to put on that God awful tshirt which, although many would believe otherwise, was designed to be aesthetically pleasing or visually arresting. The latter it certainly is. There you go. Art.” You were on a role.

“I’m assuming you had lectures or tutorial today? The book you read? The covers were made by, you guessed it, artists. You came here with Oliver and decided to get a craft beer because you’re a pretentious prick, and got the darker of the two because, and I agree with you here, the label is prettier. You’re gonna go home in an hour or two when you’ve had one too many pints and ogled that pretty girl at the bar,” you pointed at Eleanor. “Whose thong caught your eye above her low rises. Fashion? That’s art by the way and extremely influential on society ‘as we know it’.” You quoted him back and loved the way his lips quirked into a tight line.

“And thinking of her and her pretty thong, you’ll whack out ZOO mag and whack out a swift one over some big-titted page three girl in a pair of lace knickers that were designed by someone with a fashion degree. Art.”

Esme and Oliver stared at you. A manic, self-satisfied smile was plastered on your face, and when you downed your pint to cool down from the warmth that outpouring had exerted, Oliver actually smiled. Michael said nothing. Did nothing. He was entirely, utterly unreadable. You wanted to smack him.

He glanced from you to Esme, to Oliver and at last to his pint. Like you had done, he picked it up, finish it in three gulps and placed it back on the table. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.” What the fuck was he talking about? He spoke to his friend as if you and Esme had ceased to exist. “Going for a slash. Get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.” He stood from his chair, unfurling like a stick insect, and made purposefully for the gents’.

Your mouth fell open. Esme chuckled nervously. “He’s a charmer,” she said to Oliver.

“Yeah, ‘scuse,” he muttered, shuffling awkwardly to the bar.

You both sat in your chairs, baffled silence befalling of you. “Well, no double dates for us then.” Esme said.

You laughed. “No date for you fullstop.”

“Yeah,” Esme glanced at the bar where Oliver was now waving at someone. You watched as he made his way over to Felix Catton and his friends. “Bit dull, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Oliver sat down as the rest of the posho’s table cheered. “Though if he’s friends with Felix Catton…?”

“Didn’t realise you were so shallow?” Esme teased.

“I’m not! But the parties, Esme, the parties!”

“I know, I know, I’ll remember that Christmas one forever. Oh God, here he comes,” Esme shrank in her seat. Michael was weaving through the crowd back towards the table.

“Why isn’t he going to sit with Felix and Oliver?” You whispered. “He better not be coming back here.”

You and Esme watched as his approached slowed, faltering when he noticed Oliver and his pint were missing. He glanced around, looking at his feet as if to find Oliver on the floor. It was painful. Watching the realisation dawn on his face. You and Esme knew it before he did.

A hand raised in the air; he had spotted Oliver at Felix’s table. You watched, with pity and embarrassment, as Michael waved and Oliver turned away.

“Shit,” Esme said.

Hand moving to push up his glasses, Michael, with head hung low, left.

“Shit,” Esme said again. “Bet you feel like a bitch for shouting at him now.”

And despite his pomp and arrogance, his cynicism and creepiness, you really did feel awful.

Notes: The amount of research I did for this was wholly unnecessary. Added some links because 2006/2007 was quite a place. The script hit me like a fucking train. It says, “Back with Michael: CRUSHED.”

Many thanks to @thecruel for their help with the transcript of the Saltburn pub scene, and to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for the Michael Gavey inspo, your headcanons are always spot on.

Tags: @lexwolfhale* @theoneeyedprince @lovebittenbyevans @fan-goddess @ellrond @very-straight-blog @arcielee @tsujifreya @liv-cole @myfandomprompts @annoyingkittydetective* @elizarbell @solisarium @thekinslayersswordhand @nightdiamond8663* @slowlysparklyninja* @kate-to-the-ki @bellaisasleep @xxxkat3xxx @lacebvnny @moonriseoverkyoto @ewanmitchellcrumbs @moonlightfoxx @pendragora @aemonds-holy-milk @st-eve-barnes @sapphire-writes @babyblue711 @targaryenrealnessdarling @slytherincursebreaker @bottlesandbarricades @valeskafics @anjelicawrites @exitpursuedbyavulcan @barbieaemond @chattylurker @itbmojojoejo @humanpurposes @cyeco13 @heimtathurs @in-a-mountain-pool

*could not tag

[clio-just-clio]

@detectivehole , unprompted, at 4 am

[Transcript:

"Jeremy Massachusetts 1985, get your ass downstairs right fucking now!" my mom yelled at me, early one morning. she's a real bitch when she's off her ketamine. that's my name, by the way, but everyone just calls me Jerma985. im 38 years old, highschool senior, with mid length chestnut brown hair and cerulean blue orbs. im kinda plain looking, but i think i'm passably pretty i guess. nothing like the other girls at school... like ludwig- he always gets all the boys. whatever. "coming, mom!" i shout down in an annoyed tone. i throw on a quick, sporty cute outfit; white tank top, blue shorts, white cartoon gloves, and black sneakers. i sweep my silky locks away from my face, and try to smile in my vanity mirror. it doesn't reach my eyes. "goodbye, michael. im off for another horrible day at Twitch High..." i say to my pet rat as i grab my backpack and baseball club gear and head for breakfast. when i get downstairs, i don't see any food. "mom," i ask, "what's going on?" she puts down her four cigarettes and glares at me with her burning, furious globes. "i ran out of money for drugs- even the cheap shit like pank paint to huff- so im selling you for crack money." "what?!" i yell, feeling like i've just been run through a meat grinder. "that's right. you new owner is outside right now. grab your shit and get the fuck outta here, you psycho." she says, fishing out a heroin needle. i turn away, holding back tears, and head for the door to accept my new fate- when i open it, i expect to be greeted by some freak who's going to just use me to farm content, but that's not the case. in front of me is my new owner, and he is...

"hey" he intones handsomely, "how many baseballs can you fit up your ass?"

...the one and only ballfondler!!!

like for part two of my jerma fanfiction]

[r4fe-cam3ron]

— BUT I WILL TRY TO DROWN YOU OUT | e. munson x reader

| warnings; this is a flashback so this is to my ‘truck driver!eddie’ au (this can also just read as a plain eddie fic!), i try to keep this as gn as i can - but sometimes there will be a few slip ups, FATHERS!!!!!!, eddie has a sister, this one is slightly long, mentions of alcohol, abuse, and blood!

| an; i’ve missed writing for him and his little family so so much :( but i wanted to do some more back stories for this au as well!

— special tags; @munsonbee - you always have the most wonderful things to say about this au and i will never be able to thank you enough for showing so much love to this and me :(

— THANKSGIVING | 1985. 

Eddie fears that this was forever. This…sickness that he inherited from his father. The pushing away, the pulling back when things get too hard too quick. 

Or maybe things were good and he had to ruin them just as his father did. 

You had arrived, catching Eddie slightly off guard. Especially from the two trays you carry inside the trailer. He blinked owlishly, which caused Wayne to smack the back of his head in a teasing manner. 

“Go help. I raised you better than that, boy.” 

Eddie was quick to stand then, hopping off the bench where he had sat next to Wayne, jogging up the steps and inside to the warm house. “Uh, what are you doing here?” He wipes the sweat from his palms, watching as you shove something into the stove under the ham that Wayne had been cooking. 

You shrug and turn to the refrigerator now, pushing what looked like a pie inside. You then walk to him, folding your fingers in front of you as you rock on your heels with a shy smile - you look so pretty Eddie short circuits. 

“I wanted to see you,” You nod. “My family always has our thanksgiving meal early. And my mom talked to Wayne before I just popped up.” 

Eddie smiles softly. “You’re welcome here anytime.” 

You nod and step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders now. “I know. Still - manners and all,”  You move your head side to side. He grins and presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling you close. “Would you want to come stay with me tonight? We're setting up the Christmas tree.” 

He chuckles and you pull away, pouting at him. “Why are you laughing? It’s tradition.” 

“For you. I think it’s ridiculous.” 

Your arms slightly loosen their hold when the words slip out, the playful pout now a frown as you look away from him. “I mean, you don’t have to come,” You shake your head and pull away from him. “I just thought since Wayne has to leave tonight you’d have someone to stay with on the holiday.” 

Eddie shrugs. “It’s fine. It’s just another day.” 

Slightly pursing your lips together, you only nod this time. You turn from him and walk into the kitchen, opening the cabinets. Eddie’s suddenly confused but ignores it, stepping into the kitchen as well. 

“Need help?” 

“No.” You reply shortly, turning towards the table and placing three plates out onto the table. 

“Add another,” Wayne’s voice catches her off guard, looking over at him. “Uh, Alan is coming.” His eyes cut over to Eddie who’s jaw ticks slightly. 

You only nod, walking over and grab another plate, placing it down onto the table along with the others. 

When Alan Munson arrives - Eddie’s honestly surprised - there’s another woman on his arm, and an air of cockiness, cheap cologne, cigarettes and leather. He’s loud - extremely loud. 

The woman next to him - Alison you come to learn - is a pretty brunette with wide eyes, almost like Eddie’s mother’s eyes. 

And even if you were still slightly upset at Eddie for his comment earlier - which was a petty comment - your hand grabs his from under the table, squeezing when you feel his foot bouncing. 

He barely touches any of Wayne’s ham he had cooked - and it was something he looked forward to every year. 

“Don’t waste your food, kid,” Alan slaps his shoulder roughly. Eddie winces slightly, moving closer to you. “Raised you better than that.” 

“You didn’t raise me though,” Eddie quickly retorts. “Wayne did. And I can put it up for later - that’s what we usually do on Thanksgiving. If you would’ve been there, you’d know.” 

Alan’s chewing slowly comes to a stop, brows lifting slightly as he stares at him. “Watch your tone, Edward.” 

“Of course, Alan.” His fork clatters into his plate as he stands, the chair sliding out from under him quickly. You flinch when it hits the wall, the frame rattling. 

The door opens before Alan or Wayne could say anything. Georgia steps in, a bottle of wine in her hand as she lifts it up. “Uncle Wayne! Eds!” Her voice is slightly raspy and her lips pulled into a grin. 

It drops when she sees Alan. 

“You didn’t tell me he was coming.” Her eyes look at Wayne who finally stands. 

“I didn’t think he was going to show up.” 

Georgia looks at him. “Always like you to show up randomly.” 

“My first born,” He looks at Alison who leans into his chest, cheetah print boots pressing into the floor. “Georgia. Just like her mother with that complaining.��� 

“Don’t you talk about her like that. Georgia or mom.” Eddie snaps, looking at him. 

“Eddie—” You stand from your chair. Alison stands when Alan stands as well, moving out of his way. 

“I said to watch your tone, son. I’m not foolin’ ‘round,” Eddie’s stomach churns when the smell of beer drifts into his face. He has the right mind to throw up all over Alan’s snake-skin boots. “Or I’ll make you—”

“What? Regret it?” Eddie steps closer to Alan. He notices the smirk that pulls at his lips. “I’m not some kid you can toss around anymore. I hit back now.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne warns him. He knew this is what Alan wanted and he hates that Alan is getting what he wanted. But Eddie is his fathers son. His blood is in his veins - no matter how much he wanted to deny it. 

“Maybe Georgia’s more like me,” Alan nods. “You’re more like Elizabeth. I know that defensive look any—”

Eddie throws the first punch before his mind has time to think about it. He watches as Wayne stumbles a bit, the spikes on his boots clicking slightly. 

Your hand covers your mouth as you watch with wide eyes, your heart beating in your ears. 

Eddie’s anger has multiplied now - it’s burning his fingertips, tingling through his legs. He will not allow a man who never actually knew his mother to talk badly about her. 

There are nights when he prays for forgiveness for killing his mom - not that he actually did - but he knows that she would’ve still been here if it weren’t for him. 

Eddie knows she loved both him and Georgia fiercely. He also knew that she thought having him would maybe fix Alan like he was when Georgia was born. But now, he sees that he didn’t fix it. 

He made it worse. 

He killed his mom. 

And if he could, he'd time-travel back to before she even met Alan and would warn her. Warn her about how evil he was - the epitome of the devil. 

Even if that meant he wouldn’t have a sister. 

Even if that meant he wouldn’t be born. 

He wished that she would’ve been happy. 

He wanted to give his life for hers so she could live again. The only thing she’d be afraid of was bees and not the hand of some man who didn’t even deserve the clothes on his back. 

Alan slowly stands from his hunched position, a small laugh breaking free from his busted lip as he shakes his head. “She never fought back though.” 

Eddie lets out a scream and he feels the tears that had suddenly dropped down his cheeks. His hands grab the collar of his flannel, tossing him to the ground before anyone could stop him. 

There’s a buzzing noise in his ears when his knuckles meet Alan’s face and he can still feel the tears that slip down his cheeks. The punches grow weaker, his bloodied hand dropping to his chest as his shoulders shake with sobs. 

He’s knocked onto his back then, Alan shifting onto his knees. The sound of the buckle makes his eyes squeeze shut. He's six years old again after that one time he accidentally stepped on a single cigarette. 

He can feel the tingling from the metal across his hands again. 

Wayne interferes before the belt could even meet Eddie’s back, shoving Alan into the wall across the room. Eddie stays laying on the ground, shoulders shaking. 

You watch as Alan gets tugged out of the trailer now by Wayne’s hand on the back of his head. Alison follows after them quickly. You look down at Eddie, walking over and kneeling by him as your hand lands on his back. 

He’s quick to pull away from your touch as if you’d burned him. “Don’t touch me,” He seethes. Your own tears had formed, watching Eddie cry on the ground. “Don’t. I don’t need you or your pity.” 

Your heart breaks and you shake your head. “No…No, baby. Don’t—I want…” 

“I want you to leave, now,” He stands from the ground. You’d seen too much. You’d seen how frightening he was and that’s how you’re going to remember him for the rest of your life - that’s what he told himself. “You’re only with me because you took me on as a charity case. That’s it. There’s nothing there.” 

You quickly stand from the ground, shaking your head rapidly as you reach out for him. He steps away, eyes narrowed at you, expression stern. “No…no, I love you. I’m in love with you, Eddie. Please,” Your voice breaks. “Don’t shut me out. You’re shutting me out.” 

“Leave!” His voice makes you flinch and another tear rolls down your cheek as you stare at him. A small noise leaves your throat when you look away, face crumbling as you walk away from him quickly. 

Georgia stands there, wine bottle still in her hands as her eyes remain on Eddie. She wanted to lecture him but she also knows now is not the time. He’s shutting himself down and there would be no way of getting through to him until he cools down. 

Once he knows you're gone, his shaky hands reach for the pack of cigarettes that are on the counter. He walks past Georgia who now sits on the couch by Wayne, walking out into the cool air. 

He stops when he sees Alan, jaw ticking. This is the longest he’s stayed after any type of holiday. He walks down the steps and sits on the last one. He slips the lighter from the pack, lighting the end of the cigarette. 

Inhaling deeply, he blows out the smoke and stares up at the sky. It’s silent between the father and son. 

“I don’t think you’re a good person.” Eddie finally speaks up. 

Alan lets out a small laugh and it causes Eddie’s blood to boil. “And you are?” 

Eddie thinks for a moment, inhaling more smoke, letting it swirl in his chest before blowing it out. “I’m too much like you for that,” He says. Alan stays silent and stares at the back of Eddie’s head. “I almost forgot your voice.” 

“What?” 

“Your voice,” Eddie says. He can’t turn and look at him. “I almost forgot what it sounded like. I was hoping it’d be completely gone from my memories until I could make a new one for you - make you sound more happy. Create different memories than what I have,” 

He looks down at the ground. “Then when you popped up - like you always seem to do when you want or need something - everything came back to me. Just like that time you busted my hands up with the metal of your belt - the same one you’re wearing now,” Wayne looks down at his thighs, clenching his jaw. 

“Just for…accidentally breaking one cigarette. One,” He puts out the rest of his cigarette and stands. “I wish I could forget your voice instead of mom’s. Because hers,” His voice cracks. “Her’s is almost gone. And she can’t just pop up when she wants to, to remind me what it sounds like.” He makes his way back up the steps and towards the door. 

“I did love you all.” 

Eddie stops, eyes closing as he shakes his head. “That wasn’t love. That was you angry at your responsibilities and you didn’t know how to handle them. But that wasn’t our fault, Alan. You could’ve left. Saved us the pain,” He looks at his back now. “We wouldn’t have cared.” 

Alan says nothing else then. Eddie walks inside, shutting and locking the door behind himself and walks past both Wayne and Georgia again to his room. He falls onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling. 

The glow-in-the-dark stars that you’d bought and stuck up on his ceiling lights his room up enough. He stayed silent, his breathing wasn’t as heavy as it was before and his heart had calmed down a significant amount - luckily. 

He feels the bed shift and a shoulder brush against his. 

“I’ve missed you.” Georgia finally says, eyes staring up at the sticky stars. 

“Hm.” Eddie nods, tapping his fingers on his stomach. He doesn’t necessarily believe it - she never calls. Never visit. When she graduated, she left without looking back. 

He didn’t hate her for it. But he didn’t like her for it either. 

She looks over at him. “I do, Eddie,” She nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t take you with me. But I just…I needed space from here. From everything that reminded me of—”

“Reminded you of dad,” He nods. “I know. I’m sorry I’m so much like him.” 

“Reminded me of mom,” She finishes. He looks over at her. He can make out the quiver of her chin. “From everything that reminded me of her,” Her voice catches in her throat and she sits up, wrapping her hand around her throat, rubbing at the tightness. 

“You remind me so much of her and I can’t…” She shakes her head. “I hate her,” She finally blurts. “I hate her so much for leaving. She wasn’t supposed to leave us. He was,” 

Eddie slowly sits up now, staring at her. He’s never seen her cry. She was always the one who held it in - wiped his tears. Sometimes Georgia envied how easily he could cry. 

“But she’s the one who’s gone. I love her. And I miss her. But I hate her. Everything is so confusing. I-I don’t know…I don’t—” Her chest heaves and hands become shaky as they push through her hair. Eddie pulls her close, hugging her tightly as she had done him so many times as a child. 

His eyes close as his cheek presses into the top of her head. “It’s okay…I know,” He whispers. “I know.” 

It takes a while, but eventually her sobs are reduced to sniffling. She pulls away, wiping at her face and nose - her head pounds. “Sometimes I believe Alan is a good man,” She says. Eddie looks at her quietly. “He’s good when I compare him to his own father. And…and that’s enough for me not to…for me to try and not hate him,” 

Her breath shudders when she inhales and she looks at him. “Dad and I are more alike than I care to admit,” She nods. “And when I feel that pure…rage - that pure anger - I realize how much we are truly alike. And it feels like a sickness that has no cure.” 

Eddie stares at Georgia quietly. She always reminded him of their mom - a gentle, caring person who truly would lie their life down on the line for anyone. 

He always reminded himself of Alan. A man who pushed and pushed and pushed until everyone around them finally realized there’s no sense in keeping close to him. 

But maybe they’re both just like Alan. 

“I’m sorry for not calling.” Georgia looks at him with shame. 

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s okay,” He whispers. “It’s not your fault.” 

Georgia says nothing but she knows it is. She stands from his bed. “Call that girl, okay?” She looks at him as he looks down at his blanket. “Or just go to see her.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll still be here for at least three more days until I go back home,” Home. That pained him to hear from her because he wanted somewhere to feel like home. “I want to meet her. But you need to apologize to her.” 

Eddie nods slightly. She walks out of his room but turns and peeks back in. 

“I love you, buttercup.” Georgia sounds just like their mom. 

Eddie looks up, smiling softly when he feels tears pooling in his eyes. He prays he can still remember her voice - even when he’s old and wrinkled. 

“I love you, superstar.” 

Georgia smiles and grips the door frame slightly before stepping into Wayne’s room he’d given up for three days so she could sleep comfortably. 

Eddie stands from his bed, grabbing his warm jacket and slips it on before walking out of his room. He stops when he hears snoring and ticking from the chair. 

Looking over at Wayne - a man who welcomed a teenage girl and a young boy into his home - he smiles softly. He steps over, grabbing an extra throw that was on the couch and places it over his knees. He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head before stepping outside into the cold. 

—

He wants to back out, wait until tomorrow to visit you. He sees the television playing It’s A Wonderful Life, although the movie is almost over. There’s some Christmas lights already hung around inside. 

His eyes stop on the tree and his heart pulls in his chest. It was too late to join. 

The door opens and he stands up straighter when he notices it’s your mom. “Hi,” He says. He doesn’t know how much you exactly told your parents, but judging from the slight pitiful smile that pulls on her cheeks, you said enough. “Uh…is she—”

“You can come in,” She cuts him off. “It’s cold out and I made my hot chocolate.” 

Eddie peeks in and sees you looking at the door at him, arms crossed over your chest. You nod slightly. He then looks back at your mom with a small smile, stepping in when she steps to the side. 

She shuts the door softly, locking it behind him. “You’re also staying. Roads are icy and it’s starting to get late.” Eddie follows her into the kitchen as you follow behind as well. 

A red cup filled with rich hot chocolate and melted marshmallows is placed in front of him after he sits down at the table, shedding his jacket. You grab it from his hand and hang it up before sitting next to him. She places a plate of warmed pecan pie in front of him as well. 

Your mom grips his shoulder softly, walking out of the kitchen allowing you both to have some space. The main light in the living room turns off, the glow of warm Christmas lights are enough to keep it well lit. 

Eddie takes the first sip of hot chocolate, cheeks and chest warming instantly. The glass almost burns his palms as he lifts it and then puts it down. 

“She still thinks you like pecan.” You finally speak. 

Eddie glances at you before looking down at the pie, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah…I feel bad for saying that I liked it.” 

You smile and reach for the plate, eating it yourself so a slice doesn’t go to waste. 

“I wanted to apologize for what you saw tonight and for what I said,” He looks at you. You stare down at the plate, playing with a pecan that had fallen from the caramelized sugar. “I…when I get angry - too angry - I tend to shut down on everyone and everything. It’s not a good thing, and I do want to work on it,” 

“I should’ve never said that to you,” He shakes his head. You finally look over at him, nodding your head slightly. “I love you. And that scares me because I don’t…I don’t want you to end up regretting it.”  

You place your fork down and stand from your chair holding your hands out. He grips your hands and you pull him from his seat. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close. 

“I wouldn’t regret it,” You shake your head. “I don’t,” You pull away and cup his cheeks. Your chin dips slightly as you stare up at him. “You’re my best friend, Eds. You’re all I want - I can never see myself with someone else.” 

The laugh he forces out is watery and his brows pinch together as his eyes stare down at the ground, blinking away the tears that blur his vision. 

Pressing a kiss to his lips before the corner of his lips, your arms wrap around his neck once again, pulling him close. He leans into you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as his shoulders shake. 

Your hand rubs at his back while your other tangles into his hair. “It’s okay…It’s okay,” He adjusts his grip onto you, fingers and rings digging into your skin. “I’m here,” You kiss his temple, moving your forehead to his, nodding slightly. His nose brushes against yours as he nods with you. Your hands cup his jaw once again.

“I’m here.”

| please do not copy my work! comments, feedbacks, reblogs, & requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated! ✿

[pennyserenade]

picture this | chris o'doyle x reader

summary | there is an american woman, famous for her place in the background of protest photograph, and there is man from the ira. one week of every summer their infamous lives join and they forge a simple something a part from it all. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | ira mention, vietnam war mention, smut, a little bit of an age gap (reader is around 30, chris is 40), friends with benefits, co-workers (?) with benefits, protected sex, fingering, pinv, consensual sex, tender word count | 3.8k a/n | this took way too long to write and i'm sorry about that, but i hope you enjoy it!

Near the middle where the bone protruded on her knee, there was a dainty, thin scar that grew fainter with time. Somewhere–in past publications and museums, in scrapbooks and freshly-printed history books–the scar is being newly formed: she is twenty-two, attending her senior year of college and nothing makes more sense to her than standing up for other people. There is a sign in her hand, uncomplicated in both its design–white board, black lettering–and its demand (PEACE IN VIETNAM). Her youthful face is twisted in pain, her fingers folding the edges of the sign in agony as one knee touches the cement. If the camera had shuttered one second later, you would watch as the other gave way too, and you would see her mouth open wide to let out a scream that would only be masked in the cacophony of other screams.

She is not front in center in the photograph, but near the middle, only captured because of the chance way the bodies moved in that single, precise moment. Behind her is a crowd of soldiers, no older than any of the other students, who will later claim they did not strike first. They will accuse a dusty blond boy who died a week later from injuries he sustained during this photograph. This happened at a college campus she thought she would love forever. Now the degree she got there collected dust in a drawer, and she spent much of her free time trying to do anything that mattered.

Tonight, Chris found she was uncharacteristically romantic, full of cheap, potent beer and the inane idea that because they met once a year and fucked without purpose, that what they did was markedly adult. It wasn’t that she really thought that, but was an easy notion to be taken with; friends she had known in college were getting married and settling down, or already had, and the most consistent relationship she’d had in five years was this annual, week-long endeavor. Of course she knew that what they did was more sophomoric than trying at a real relationship and failing, but she could delude herself into thinking it was more mature on the basis that she did not love him and he did not love her. She told herself because they liked each other intellectually, personally, apart from having sex, it was different:. They had shared interests. He really did think she was clever. When he laughed, the laugh came from some place within him, an innocuous place that did not have coal to burn from in Ireland, but stirred happily back to life with her. When he kissed her, he did it for pleasure. He let her dress and undress herself. He lit her cigarettes the way he did for other acquaintances. When they were at her apartment like this, locked together in the quiet hours of the night, she was unabashed, witty, the least vain and neurotic version of herself.

Chris’ leather jacket hung on the back of a chair in her kitchen, his shoes tucked vertically by the door. His arm sloped over the back of the sofa, hovering near her body but not quite reaching it. In his current state, he looked at perfect ease: dress shirt unbuttoned, the glimmer of his silver St. Christopher’s pendant shining beneath the harsh lighting, a content smile on his face. If one were to glimpse inside her home, one might think he was a permanent resident.

“For a man so supposedly out of touch with the world, that mustache of yours is pretty in vogue, don’t you think?” she teased warmly, nodding towards his mouth. Her beer bottle sweated against the coffee table, without a coaster to protect the wood beneath it.

Growing more comfortable, Chris’ hand moved down, his fingers grazing against her knee. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks almost immediately, and he knew that the touch excited her, simple as it was. She watched carefully as he leaned down, quiet, and pressed his lips to the scar there. It was intimate, too familiar. She was an adult, steady minded, logical, and yet the simple act drove her to wordlessness. This was what a week with Chris always looked like, why she so craved it and feared it: it dizzied her, grounded her in a place that had not ever existed since she was twenty-two. It came back with tenacity whenever he stepped into her life.

Chris had no shame, leveling a satisfied smirk in her direction. He took in the sight of her face, his hand traveling further up her leg, exploring the width of her smooth thigh beneath his hand. She became tense under his touch, taut with anticipation. He nudged her legs apart with a tap of his fingers. Slowly, as if she had never done it before - not for him, not for anyone - she spread them apart.

“That’s right, my girl,” he cooed. Beneath the fabric of his tight slacks, his cock began to stir in interest.

This was a ritual his body knew what was going to happen next–because it always happened next. His pale blue eyes went a shade darker, the pupils widening as he trailed over the insides of her thighs with his fingers. Up close like this, he could smell the perfume on her, a heady, intoxicating scent that he relished as she leaned back on the couch for him. He rose up to her neck, tonguing at the flesh nearest to her throat, humming contentedly as her thighs attempted to close around his explorative hand.

He nudged alongside her jawline with his nose, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on her neck. Beneath her skirt, he began rubbing soothing circles on her thighs. He could feel the heat emitting from her cunt, was thoroughly taken with the idea that in this state, he could just as well do anything he wanted to her. For months now, he’d been thinking of this, of her — of her soft whimpers, of the scrunch of her face as she came, of the taste of her, acidic and lovely. He’d palmed himself in the dark of night too many times to count, re-imagining the moments she hung up her inhibitions for him. He wanted her more than he could bring himself to admit.

He reached up and felt for the outline of her underwear. There was nothing. “No knickers?” he murmured against the warmth of her skin.

She shook her head, almost coy.

Chris pressed his lips to hers then. At first a light peck, the feeling of her lips against his was better than he remembered - better than anything he could possibly imagine - and he could not help drawing himself more closely to her. His hand carded through her hair, and when she opened his mouth for him, he groaned softly, ghosting his mouth above her own. They sat like that for a moment, staring at one another, measuring the depths of each other’s want before his tongue touched hers, and she eagerly gripped on the side of his shirt, pulling his body over her own. His feather touches on her thighs crept higher and higher until his fingers ghosted over her cunt. She canted her hips up, pleading silently, as his tongue ran over the top of her mouth, possessive and needy.

“What’s a matter, darlin’? No one touched you while I was away?” he teased. The Irish lilt drove her wild as it spread itself across the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Her nails dug into his side and Chris relished in the sting of it – at this something painful, that could also be nice. There was always a terrible, incessant part of him that wanted to know that things could still be nice.

She attempted to mold her form to his again, mewling from his curious lack of inattention. Chris grinned – nearly beamed – as if in wanting him, she was granting him some longed desired freedom. He knew her cunt ached for him; he felt the heat of it as his hand cascaded further up. Instead of touching her, he brushed lightly over her, grazing everywhere except the spots that would do anything for her. A protest finally rose up in her throat, but as Chris pushed the fabric of her skirt around her waist, whistling at the sight of her before him, it only came out as a weak sound instead. She looked at him, glassy eyed. Even in the dim lighting, he could see her glisten.

The alcohol made her pliant, but not incapable; whereas sober she probably wouldn’t let his curious eyes linger as long as they were, she allowed it now, slightly thrilled. The feeling ran up her spine when he brought fingers to her, spreading her puffy lips apart. She stifled a moan, gripping the edge of her couch, arching into his touch. With Chris, nothing ever managed to feel lewd; it felt like the most correct thing in the world, like he was drawing up a map and saying ‘this is where you are, this is where you belong, this is what you’re meant to do.’ It made her dizzy, how much she wanted him to merely touch her – not to mention how badly she wanted his cock, his tongue, anything at all. She wanted to tell him. To say: you could do anything you want with me. I’ll lie on the carpet, naked, let you look forever if you just keep looking at me like that, making me feel like this. Keep making me want you, just this much.

She didn't feel bad about it all—it made her feel strangely, inexplicably whole. Better because she didn’t love him, because she only liked him, and he only liked her, and yet they still wanted to touch one another like this, look at each other like that. She’d waited her whole life to feel that way.

“You’re mine,” he told her. The voice sounded as it came from deep within him, a place he didn’t rightly know existed until it did and he couldn’t help but reveal it. “Aren’t you? My girl, waiting for my fingers–” he circled over her opening, watching blurry eyed the way it closed around nothing “--waiting for my cock, wearing no knickers, hoping that I’ll what?” When they made eye contact, she found she never wanted to tear her eyes away from him again. He looked like he could devour her whole. “That I’d notice, fuck you soon as I seen you?”

He clicked his tongue, entering a single one of his thick fingers into her cunt. He tightened his jaw, watching the way it disappeared into the warmth of her. She was wet as hell. When she pushed at his shoulder, squirming a little beneath him, his lips curled up at the end into a small, genuine grin. He liked the way her face contorted, how she pushed even though she wanted more.

“That f–feels good,” she moaned.

“So fucking wet–” He entered another finger into her.

His nose once more rubbed along the smooth outline of her face. How badly he wanted to know the entire shape of her–to reach inside, extract a piece to take home. His fingers rubbed against the spongy top of her walls, and he measured the beat of her heart, the wavering of her breath, the ghost of her against his skin as he adjusted above her. His other hand grazed beneath the fabric of her shirt, peeling it up.

As he hung his head, a shag of hair concealed his face. She pinned it back just as he licked just above her breast. Her body arched up towards his own and he groaned, pulling his now wet fingers out of her and gripping at her hip. He pinned her against him, knocked his nose against hers, before kissing her; he sucked at her bottom lip, ran his tongue over the back of her teeth.

Chris wanted her to make a mess of him, and to let him make a mess of her. He wanted her spread and wet, wanted to plunge his cock deeply inside of her, wanted to run his tongue over the creases between her legs, wanted to suck her clit, bite her nipples, to see her mouth around his cock, his fingers, wanted to watch her pupils dilate, her mouth form into a neat ‘o’, to hear the thud of her heart against his ear, a sound that would no doubt make his own heart beat quicker, and more happily than it had in months.

“Please,” she told him, and he couldn’t resist.

Her fingers found the buttons on his dress shirt and diligently began to undo them as he reached between their bodies to push down his slacks. As she moved the shirt down his arms, he caught her lips against own again.

“D’you have a condom?” he asked, urgent.

“Over there.“ She pointed to the drawer beside them. He kissed her again before leaning over and grabbing the pack out of the assortment of junk she had stored there.

His brows furrowed as he took one of the wrappers out of the pack. He tried not to think entirely much about the fact that there was empty space where others had been, and tore the end as she hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and drew them down around his hips.

Swallowing, he took himself in his hand. As he pinched the tip of the latex, she reached out, stilling his hands. Before he could ask her what she was doing, she was doing it. He watched with widened eyes as she put her mouth around the weeping tip of his cock, taking him slowly into the warmth of her mouth. His fingers gripped the back of the couch and he sucked in a shallow breath. “Jesus Mary—“ he uttered, face tinting red. Her eyes glanced up and he nearly shuddered; they were glassy, impish, delighted as she flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock, tracing the vein up.

He felt drunk when she hummed around him — everything going straight to his brain all of the sudden. What she could not put in her mouth, she stroked with her hand. Chris could not peel his eyes from her. She’d done this before, of course, but never with so much self-possession. Saliva glistened on his cock and cornered the edges of her lips as she pulled back. He wanted to reach out, to touch her. To tell her good girl and watch the way the praise settled over her skin. But it all happened too quickly; she was already moving off of his cock before the words could come up. “

Now,” she told him, still holding him in her hand.

Chris understood; he nodded and adroitly peeled the condom over himself.

She laid back, spreading her legs apart to make room for him. He looked down at her, reverent, but still with the mind to be clever. “Mind me if I’m wrong, but I thought you women liked a bit of foreplay?” he joked, running his finger alongside her thigh.

Her lips mirrored his own. “This entire day’s been foreplay.” Her own fingers sprawled against his stomach, wrapping around his sides. She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Like you said, I’ve wanted you to take me as soon as you saw me.”

It didn’t take much more convincing for him. His head dipped, his mouth on hers as he guided her back on the couch. She wrapped a leg around him, their tongues rolling against one another’s as he positioned himself over her. Even through the cotton of his undershirt, he could feel her pebbled nipples against his chest. He sighed, kissing at her jaw, her neck, leaving wet kisses over her collarbone. Reaching between her legs, he ran two fingers through her folds, testing how slick she was for him. He sucked hard on the skin over her breast—hard enough to leave a bruise—and hummed agreeably as she coated his fingers.

“My naughty, naughty American,” he delighted. He spread her folds apart with his fingers, rubbing over her core teasingly. She looked him in the eye, mouth parting to let mouth a silent moan.

Chris repositioned, replacing his fingers with his cock, rubbing the head of it through her folds. He went slack jawed with her as he teased the tip inside of her, stretching her entrance with the fat head of it. Her nails, which had been ghosting over his skin, dug in slightly. After a few moments, he pulled back out, much to both of their dismay.

“Don’t know if you’re wet enough,” he whispered against her lips, grinding his hips in an upward motion. She whined, pouting.

“I am,” she insisted.

“Not for me,” he replied, his hand reaching back between their bodies. He pressed two fingers inside of her, grinning as her brows drew together. “You’re mine,” he told her again, dragging his fingers along her walls. “You can fill yourself with whatever or whoever you like while I’m gone, but I want it to be known that this—“ he rubbed the top of her cunt, reaching a deep part of her that made her squirm. “—is mine. All fucking mine.”

She was intoxicated, the heady fumes of desire spreading out around them. He thrust his fingers inside of her, widening them apart to stretch her for him. Wrapping her hand around the back of his neck, she brought him down to kiss her. He did, parting from her only to cast his translucent eyes down to where he was touching her.

“Fuck, I’m wet enough, Chris,” she said murmured his lips, frustrated. He laughed.

“Not enough. Want you dripping,” he said back, a bit stern. She could see it, suddenly, the way she hadn’t ever been able to before: an etch of seriousness that told her he could be a somber man. She found it terribly attractive. She sucked at the end of his tongue.

“If you fuck me properly, I will be,” she retorted, drawing her fingers around his sides, up to his back. She traced alongside his spine.

He scoffed, though she could see in his eyes he liked the teasing.

“You’re not being very nice to me. Don’t know if I should.” They both watched as he dragged his wet fingers up to her puffy clit. He traced wide, light circles around it. She held her breath, drawing her legs up involuntarily for him.

“You’re clenching around nothing, baby. What a pity.”

“Chris—“ she breathed out. “Chris.”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he nodded in approval, righting himself over her again. He applied more pressure on her clit.

“My pretty-“ Chris took himself in his hand again, lining his cock over her entrance, “-pretty girl all worked up.” He shook his head as if chiding, before thrusting his hips forward slowly. His eyes followed his cock as it disappeared into her, her cunt stretching beautifully around him. She was a goddess, laid out before him, wanting and waiting. Despite his desire for all of her, he thrilled at the slow taking of her. He was savoring it, remembering the tightness of her cunt, allowing the curve of her nails to embed themselves into his mind as well as his skin.

When he found himself fully seated inside of her, he turned his head, kissing the side of her lips, his eyelids, her nose. She pulsated around him. “You feel so tight,” he told her, gradually pulling out, only enough to feel the squeeze of her around him without losing too much of the warmth. He nearly sighed in contentment as he moved back inside.

She was already flush and warm all over from the alcohol in her system, and the feel of him inside of her felt less like an intrusion, as much as it did a missing piece to a lifelong puzzle. His cock was better than his fingers, thicker, longer, going deep as he grinded his hips down into hers. Impatient, she told him, “Faster.”

He huffed out a laugh, but obeyed, drawing up more quickly this time, pressing into her with more intent. She bit back a moan as she felt the plunge of him inside of her. Her knees went higher, something he encouraged by hooking one of them around his arm and thrusting roughly inside of her.

“Fuck, like that,” she moaned, nodding as he went impossibly deep inside of her then. She felt herself grow wetter—could hear it too, the slap of their bodies growing nosier the more intense he grew with his thrusts. It was no longer an issue for him to slide in; her body beckoned him, made all the room so he could seat himself closer and closer to her core.

Chris began to whimper as his thrusts grew more erratic. The pendant on his necklace swung as he watched the way his cock entered her, hitting her in the face as he pushed inside. Her tongue latched onto it, drawing the cool metal into her mouth. When he looked back at her, his eyes were full of unadulterated want. He shuddered, his hands falling over the back of her shoulders, attempting to draw her closer than she already was. She felt the fabric of his undershirt against her sensitive nipples, felt the drag of his pubic bone against her clit as he worked himself inside of her; he was all around her, hot, tangible, lovely, human. Hers.

His fingers wrapped tightly around her shoulders, almost with a bruising intensity, as he began to twitch inside of her. She looked him in the eyes, nodding, urging. He came then, the warmth of his seed inside of her making her gasp, even through the latex of the condom. Her arms wrapped around him, and she panted, smiling.

Pressing a kiss to her breast, he steadied his breathing. She brushed her fingers through his unruly hair, enjoying the faint tickle of his mustache against her skin.

“I’m still gonna make you cum,” he promised, cupping his hand around one of her breasts. They adjusted, so that he tucked himself beside her on the couch, their legs intertwining. His touch was curious more than attentive, the tips of his fingers caressing her warm flesh.

“We’ve got all night.”

“I know,” he smiled, licking behind her ear. Her eyes shut closed, and she pressed away the thoughts that this was not friendly. The alcohol made her feel pleasant, warm, and she did not care.

“Gonna make you cum a lot, my American,” he murmured, biting her earlobe.

She kissed him softly and he returned the kiss in kind, resting a hand on her cheek. He wanted to tell her something terribly romantic, to confess that he liked her quite a lot, that he enjoyed being here more than she would know. But Ireland was such a quiet, fearful place and the IRA had made him wearier than ever; it was best to say nothing than to say too much. It was better to show. His hand drew up between her legs, his eyes glimmering as he pulled away from her.

I want to know all you, said the line he traced up her thigh.

Alright, she consented, parting her legs for him.