#professional pool sticks

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Between Dreams and Sugar

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Torture, gore, angst, violence & death, suggestive joke, fluff, happy ending, rescue fic but who rescues who...>:)

A/N: Guys, I have a confession - I don't think I can write Ghost properly lmfao. This is horrifically mid.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was so much blood coating your body that you had forgotten where the wounds were and weren’t. It flowed from you like viscus water—a homogeneous mixture of congealed shades of red like rubies except for the simple fact that this was not beautiful; it was not desired or sought after. 

 On the ground, soaking in indistinguishable pools of crimson, ripples are sent out when your limp foot twitches mutely in its clutch. That was all you could do now. Twitch. Writhe. They didn’t even bother tying you to the chair anymore—just let you slouch half out of it like a school kid who had gotten too drunk the night before. 

Hell, you wished you were drunk. 

“Sergeant.” 

You wished you could feel your fingers. You wished you could move your neck up from its bend position as if it was a wilting flower; hair stuck to your skin. Blood dribbles out of your mouth. Drip…drop…drip…drop. 

You’d bitten your tongue open in a vain attempt to stop yourself from screaming, hadn’t you? You…you can’t quite remember.

“Sergeant!” Groaning long and low, the violent chills that wrack your form only serve to make yourself bleed out faster, tension forcing precious life fluid out from burst veins and slashed ankles. 

Cuts far span your legs and shoulders. Your back is nothing more than a painting of burns coated with sweat and infection; puss sticking you to the backrest of the chair like yellow-colored adhesive. Your clothes are the opposite idea of modesty. Tattered, torn by blades to create harm. Fuck, could you even breathe properly anymore?

Lungs only create a wheeze—you’re not getting enough oxygen to function. 

A dark growl bounces off the walls.

Ghost struggles against his binds, uniform also in a state of disarray with very obviously broken ribs and bruised chest. Splotches of yellow-white mounds signal blunt trauma over the pale skin that’s already laced with old scars. 

They’d all but anchored him to his chair—and even then the red marks that blister are a signal of the brutality of the large man as he peels back his skin to try and struggle himself out. 

You whine, the loftiness stuck in your brain addictive; to pull back that curtain was as much of a struggle as staying awake. That harsh Manchester accent was something to draw closer to, though, professionalism a key to the lock on your failing consciousness. The reminder of companionship.

“G…” Your vocal cords fizzle, “Ghost…” 

“Open your eyes.” Every word was enunciated, deep and guttural.

Parting your lips, more blood drowns your lap in thick globs, and soon your battered throat vibrates with coughs that make you see stars, mild panic the moment you realize that you can’t breathe. 

Jerking forward, you gasp, eyes snapping open as your neck bends ahead in desperation. Mucus and other bodily fluids spray over your lap, tinged scarlet, but the blockage in your throat is dispelled as your broken ribs quiver in agony. 

Whimpering like a kicked dog, you wonder how long it’ll take for Ghost to realize getting you to focus on him was pointless. If this all continued, you’d be dead within the day. 

But you entertain him.

Head slowly balking back as your jaw hangs loose, you rest it on the wooden frame behind you as softly as you’re able with a most likely concussed brain and a fractured skull. Only one eye opens, and even then it’s half-glued to your cheek with dried blood. 

Ghost’s balaclava had been ripped off. It felt wrong to see him in the open like this. Exposed. It was quite obvious he disliked it just as much as you did. 

Blue eyes blazed at you; blonde hair going this way and that as crimson fell down the swell of his Adam’s Apple from a very broken nose. That gaze was unrelenting, and even with your blurry vision, you knew it would be unwise to look away. 

His stubbled jaw sets as a heart can be seen skipping beats in his breast. You were totally out of it, enough so that you missed the way his lungs slightly released when you had pulled yourself back to the present. 

The gulping sigh.

“That’s it, Sergeant.” You cough once more, wet and haggard, and your head falls back to your chest before you have to force it back up on shaking muscles. It was getting harder. “Easy does it, then…Thought I lost you.”

“C–can’t,” the useless feet flicker over the ground, sloshing through fluid in unstable jumps as you slur out, “Hurts, Ghost.”  

A slow and dark inhalation meets your ears before a sudden grunt of a struggling body; jerking arms as the chair squeals with old nails being torn out. 

“I know, Birdie, I know.” His tone is lesser now as he bites back a curse as the blisters on his arms pop, the rope burns turning a vile color as his muscles strain, “But you keep those pretty little eyes on me, yeah?” 

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. 

Black Operations were dangerous, yeah, but never had the Lieutenant been so down in the gutter as he was right now. Mainly because of you, no, entirely because of you. He could withstand months of torture—mental and physical—with no problem. He’d done it countless times before. 

But never had he been forced to watch someone hurt you instead of him.

They would come in every day, these pitiful excuses for German drug runners, and would make him watch as they ripped open your skin with blunt knives and other tools coated in rust. Questions would be asked—questions that Ghost knew he could not answer even if it was you who would get punished. 

Every time you would flinch when the door to this concrete basement opened, it was harder to keep his tongue from wagging. He was watching you die; letting it happen. 

Fuck, it made him sick.

Ghost violently reems a shoulder up and down, not caring about the long stripes of now oozing blood on his forearms or the pain that the action brings bone-deep. There was so much scarlet flowing from you. Too much.

What he knows for certain is that he can’t let you die here. He’d never forgive himself for that.

How is she still conscious? The question was utterly genuine as Ghost’s dead eyes narrowed dangerously, sparking with urgency at the uneven risings and fallings from your chest. 

“Fucking hell,” the Lieutenant growls, each word punctuated by a desperate attempt to free himself. He had to get you out of this. You were his responsibility; his team. 

His…Ghost pants, sweat dripping down his arms.

You didn’t abandon him, how could he do the same to you? When questioned you hadn't given up his true name, hadn’t blabbered to save your own skin so you could avoid a horrible amount of pain. Pain that Ghost knew well. 

Pain that was never supposed to be known to you.

Your screams would haunt his nightmares until the day he died. 

“Ghost,” blue eyes freeze, snapping away from the sight of the bone around his wrists becoming visible through a thin coverage of remaining flesh. He pauses like a guard dog. Your optic was glinting, flicking with failing consciousness. The movement of your chest sputtered as the man clenched his teeth together. “You’re hurtin’ yourself.” 

“‘Bout to do even more damage, yeah?” he gets back to it, working enough blood into the rope to make it slick; dripping. “If it’ll get me out of these bastard things.” 

The weak smirk on your face gives his brows a deep furrow, sweat glistening on his forehead.

A part of him hated you. Hated you for the way you had this effect on him. He shouldn’t care if you lived or died—that wasn’t his cross to carry. 

But you’d made him soft these last few months. Soft, and weak, and disgustingly concerned for your safety. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t Ghost. 

“Gonna b…bleed out, y’know.” Your tongue slips, mind so loose that anything that comes to the front slips out like water from a slip-and-slide. Fingers twitching, your limp body grows so cold that you shiver. 

“Negative.” Ghost barks, slipping one hand partially under the restraint and his flesh, acting as a zipper, starts to go with it. He hisses under his breath, body hot and spilling. Mutilating himself. “Shut your damn gob.” Blood splatters to the floor, “I’m gettin’ us out of ‘ere.”

“Tell me a joke.” Blue eyes flicker, blonde lashes slipping over pale cheeks. 

You feel another wave of pain shutter through you—one that makes you whimper as quietly as a soft breeze on a summer day. 

“Joke?” Ghost hisses, glaring over at you without heat. “The fuck are you on about?” A wobbling eyebrow raise is all he gets. 

He grunts feral-like, evocative of a bear that hadn’t gotten his supper. Your lid droops and panic spikes.

“How long can a fish breakdance for?” Ghost slips a hand free, snarling in the back of his mouth as the entirety of his left hand is left ripped open, the fissures itchy and welling. Wasting no time, the limb goes to assist the other, pulling with ripped-off fingernails at the tight knot. A side-eye is sent your way.

Only you weren't moving. Lips snap in a moment of obvious concern, not only by the tone but by the way the man jerks forward in the chair—no matter if one arm and both of his legs were still restrained.

“Love!” The door handle rattles with screeching chains, but Ghost is occupied with raging at you. Ordering you to stay awake with terrifying eyes. It was as though for the first time in a long time there was true fear in his throat. True hatred. 

Chucking voices heat veins that he had long since thought were cold, and the Lieutenant composes himself with a sharp pause. He leans back slowly into the chair; jaw so tight his molars almost crack in the back of his mouth like candy. Your face is tilted downward, and Ghost memorizes the make of it, trails his gaze slowly over every slash and cut that mars you. Feet slap off the concrete as multiple people enter the room, but it was like a switch had flipped internally, walls going up.

The mask was still there, even if all that physically remained of it was the black paint in his sockets.

He’d return every mark, from a bruise to an open wound, tenfold. But you needed to wake up first. You…you needed to.

You had to be okay.

Three men encircle the two of you, faces hidden and obviously enjoying a bit of their own product.

“Look at this, Lutz, the man got a hand out of the binding.” Blue eyes travel to stare dead-on into a pair of blown pupils; mind gone. 

The second man goes to grip your hair, forcing your head up in inspection. Ghost’s vision immediately travels over, biceps going tense like a dog with its hackles raised and vision going red. 

“Don’t worry about that. It’s one hand, what can the Bastard do?”

“Oh,” another laughs, though his body is wound tight, “careful with the woman, Alric—the beast looks like he’s about to snap at you.”  

The three share sly looks. Alric, the one with your hair in his grip, shakes your head back and forth, blood flying around in the air as your limp body jerks. Ghost lunges, but he only makes it as far as the chair allows him before he’s shoved back by a hand on his chest. 

Moving quicker than an animal, bone snaps, and an agony-laced scream echoes off the walls not a millisecond later. 

Ghost had gripped that hand and twisted, making the wrist joint completely flip on itself. Blank blue eyes watch with glints of sadistic glee as the man wails, grabbing onto himself and falling back onto his ass.

The one holding you instantly releases your hair and rushes to his friend. 

“Holy fuck!” Everyone divulges into frantic German curses, Ghost making out a command to leave and go see a doctor.

“Cheers. Good luck with that, ya’ Bastard.” Grumbling under his breath, the Lieutenant realized he was probably enjoying this more than he should, but always his attention shifts back to you. How you hang limb, battered face covered by your hair, and loss of blood steadily leaving your hands curling into the palms—

Ghost’s eyes widen slightly as the two still try and calm down their companion. Your hand. It wasn’t curled because of onset rigor mortis. You were holding a blade. 

The Brit’s large chest swells with pride; jaw going somewhat slackened as he stares at you. So you were faking it….Fucking hell, Sweetheart. 

Slowly, his vision peels to the empty sheath on Lutz’s belt. It wasn’t a big knife—nothing more than a three-inch blade on the end. But you were still conscious enough to hear these goons show up before he had; had used sleight of hand that anyone else in your situation would have just given up on. 

It was hard to hold back a low chuckle, but he managed. Fuck, you were something else.

The two unmaimed men shove the third out the door, shouting down the hallway as his sobs and sniffling nose reverberate even as he’s out of sight. 

Grunting, the Brit shifts his hips, lips pulling in a snarl at the bouncing electrical wire that goes up his ribs. Many were broken; along with his nose and a dislocated shoulder, but he knows he can deal with it. Getting you out and to the Evac point was his top priority—his wounds weren’t over-the-top life-threatening unless they went too long without treatment. 

You on the other hand. 

Lids narrow on the way the knife-holding hand shakes with exertion when simply applying pressure. If this was going to happen, it had to happen now.

“That was a nice little show,” Alric growls, standing in the middle of the two in the chairs and keeping a considerable distance farther from Ghost than you. Blue eyes blink blankly, emotions swiftly wiped away. “One-handed? I’m impressed.” 

Ghost raises a single blonde eyebrow, “More where that came from.” 

Alric smiles.

“Emil—get the gun.” Legs slowly tense, but other than that there’s no outward display of nervousness. 

Seconds later a barrel is level with Ghost’s forehead, the chilled metal pressing deep into his blood-coated skin. He doesn’t balk back, he doesn’t even flinch, just watches with a dim flicker in his optics that remains even after he blinks. Like a cat’s slitted pupils. 

It would be no use shoving the gun out of this man’s hands—he would fire before the Lieutenant was able to steal the weapon for himself. 

“I’m getting sick of this game, Soldier. We’ve been through this day after day.” Alric swipes at his nose, white powder stuck under his nostrils. Ghost can’t stop the small tick of his mouth. “Tell me who you are,” the gun swivels, and the Brit’s heart seizes up. It points at your abdomen. “Or the girl gets a nice new stomach.” 

Lips thin into a small line as hidden fury swells. 

“Alric…” Emil seems nervous, his feet shifting and hands twitching. The aura Ghost was emitting was like a dark cloud around the room; sheer size and indistinguishable emotions rose to drown out all else when a threat to the beast’s bird was brought into the picture. There had been multiple times throughout the days when the men had been scared to touch you at all for fear of the look that had been leveled their way. Those eyes…fuck it was like a demon was stuck in flesh. In blue so close to gray the color was more like the concrete of a prison cell. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“Tell me.” Alric growls as Emil gets closer to you. Ghost stays silent, unblinking as his fingers curl into fists. His knuckles crack from the force. “Tell me!”

Emil bushes your shoulder and you lunge. Bringing the blade into his chest, your form brings the both of you to the floor in a splash of scarlet and twin screams of pain. 

The Blonde’s heart seizes at the sound in an aggressive bounce.

Alric whips around, eyes widened and gun loose in his grip. Ghost wastes no time, trusting your judgment, and shoves himself forward. A shot goes off as the Lieutenant rams his shoulder into the man, but the bullet bites into the far wall instead of your back as you dig your knife into Emil’s throat; wrestling for life. 

The chair still attached to Ghost was a problem, but his body weight was used to his advantage. Sinew bunched as a growl exits his lips, Alric and him slamming to the floor in a flurry of rabid intentions and the likeness of wolves caught in a trap. Ghost’s eyesight goes red, remembering every cut and beating you went through for him in the reflection of Alric’s eyes. That pathetic drug runner had made you bleed. 

His bird doesn’t bleed.

Teeth and nails are tools kept for animals, and now that the gun was too far from grip and you were limp beside the gargling body of Emil, Ghost decided that being a bit insane might do him well at the moment. 

He had to get you out of here. And in no world was this man going to get away to live one day more.

“Please, don’t,” Alric begs, clawing at his behemoth build, “I’m not—I wasn’t—!” 

Blood-stained teeth snap into the thin flesh of a visible neck as dead blue eyes keep you in sight like a dog does the moon.

—

You don’t recall anything after slashing one man’s neck and even that is a blur of flashing colors; instances of one waxing expression waning into another. Trapped between bouts of failing consciousness and pain that could rival someone getting their bones snapped one by one. 

But you know the feeling of moss on your cheek. The shadow that sits above you and the fingers that prod at your back, pressing cooling salves of Silverweed into the burns and cuts. Your eyes weakly flicker, a low moan stuck in your throat. 

Every limb is a cinder block.

“Stop your moving.” The command was stiff but quiet, and the pressure on your spine increased. Flinching, the sensation of tight bindings all along your body became apparent to you, slowly but surely. 

“That…hell?” You cough, throat bare and dry. Sweat drips down your temple. 

Blinking rapidly, you try to focus on the cold wind whipping past your bare skin, the trees in the distance of what appeared to be a glade. The sound of a running stream makes your ears perk.

A canteen was suddenly shoved to your lips and you grunt in surprise, water slicking your closed lips.

“Drink.” You don’t argue, peeling back your lips and letting the liquid drip into your mouth, most falling to the moss under you and getting re-adsorbed into the earth. “...There’s a girl.” 

The metal container disappears just as quickly as it showed up, and you lick at the corner of your lips, cheeks burning at the comment.

Ghost kneels above you, bar a shirt, and you narrow your lids to focus on the black and blue splotches completely covering him. He still doesn’t have a mask, and you glance over the blonde stubble; the scars, and the aggressive set of his eyebrows. The blood had been washed away, and you wondered if the stream in the background of this place was still stained with crimson and the telltale black of eye paint.

“Simon,” whispering seemed appropriate, though you don’t know why. Your voice was better now but still, your body refused to listen to your instructions. Every plea to move your arms or legs was denied, sharp needles poking into your flesh that made you shake. “What…?” 

Blue eyes blink down at you, something hidden in the depths. A finger curls to flick a stray hair from your face slowly. Skin brushes skin.

“Snagged what I could before I ran off. Wasn’t much.” That harsh voice, the gravel in it. You frown weakly, your lids heavy. “Bandages. Extra shirt. Blanket I used to stop the bleeding.”

He won’t tell you he was begging you to wake up when he’d been stuffing old fabric into your open wounds. 

Coughs wrack your frame, whole body jerks that overtake what little peace there was to be found. A hand tilts your head back to the ground, patient as the other grabs your hair, peeling the strands away as a flood of vomit escapes your mouth. 

Eyes burning and face hot, you sputter as a thumb runs deep circles over your scalp. 

“Easy…” Ghost whispers, tattoos like obsidian in the darkness of the world around the two. Late afternoon and this was the first time you’d woken up since he’d been carrying you. A nail was taken out of his heart. 

Seeing your eyes flicker, even filled with the tears as they were, was a blessing he’d thank whatever God that was out there for. “Easy, Sweetheart. Breathe for me.”

“Fuck,” you gasp, shaking more than a leaf. “Fuck it hurts, Simon.” 

He shifts you slightly away from the bile, the familiar words burning his lungs. 

“Evac point is four miles.” It felt like a death sentence to you, your eyes going buggy at the thought. “I’m carrying you there.” 

“Bullshit,” you pant, wheezing. “Your arms are destroyed.” 

Ghost blinks before scowling, sending a glance to his limbs. They’re both raw and skinned, just like his fingers; red with burst blisters the size of rocks. One hurts far more than the other.

“They’re nothing.” 

“Nothing pretty to look at,” blue eyes narrow on you in annoyance, but the dry-humored Brit doesn't miss a beat.

“Seems you’re in good spirits, Sergeant. Fancy walking on your own?” Your lips flick, delirious and high off of whatever pain meds that Ghost had found when he had been carrying you out of the basement of that house. 

Try as he might, the feeling of your dead weight was worse than he ever could have imagined. So, outwardly, he stayed numb but knew that every little look from you was as beautiful as a sunrise. 

“Want me to try?” Palms begin to shift, a hand pressing deep into the moss that bends and yields to your form. 

Ghost snaps forward.

“Fucking Bastard!” He puts weight on the back of your shoulder as you hiccup dull chuckles, “Quit it! Else I’ll leave you here to annoy the damn plants.”

The threat was empty, and your eyes softened as they spread their fatigued gaze over the span of the Brit’s visible skin, glee leaking out. Ghost sighs, shaking his head sharply at you, agitation stuck in his skull as it always was.

So beastly, this man, but his hold on you was about as gentle as you could imagine. 

Your attraction to him was anything but one-sided. You knew his emotions as well as your own; it was quite obvious to everyone but him. The long looks, the concerned glances. His touch freely given.

He had given you his name and, to you, that was about as close to a proposal as a ring was. You’d kissed; you’d shared beds and shared skin. You knew when he was being horrible to himself deep in the confines of his head.

“Simon,” you whisper, and a blue gaze stays stubbornly away, glaring at your burns with venom. A tired smile peels your lips. “Simon.” 

A huff is all you get, a bush of skin as breath wafts over your bare back. Your hand goes to touch his knee, brushing softly over the torn fabric. The flinch would not be noticeable to anyone but you. Brows pull slightly tighter. 

“I had a dream about you, y’know.” Speaking hurt, but the attention that is finally brought your way was worth it. Birds chirp in the distance.

“What’s that?” 

“Hm,” you lightly nod, cheek ruffling moss as you take down slow inhalations. Staring into each other’s eyes you for a moment forget the agony under your skin. “You were trapped by a giant fish underwater.” 

A Blonde eyebrow raises, slow smirk unable to be hidden. It was impossible not to be entirely taken by you. How you speak, how you breathe. Even like this, you had placed a spell of black magic over him, binding the darkness that made up Simon Riley—Ghost—to your every action and whim.

“That right, Sweetheart? What happened, then?”

Chuckling, Ghost’s hold goes to your neck, massaging the skin so delicately that you lose your train of thought for a moment as shivers erupt, “I had to save you.”  

Lips press to your scalp, a bent nose digging despite the shifting cartilage as lion limbs shake with a want to drag you to him. Such a rabid beast that devotes himself to your life.

“You tend to do a lot of the savin’, Love.” It’s muttered into your hair, softly, lowly. Compliments are rare—Ghost prefers actions above all else—but they’re treasured. 

You know what he means.

“Yeah, I love you, too, you brute.” Deep chuckles dance in your ear, and you both stay there for a while, simply breathing in each other as the sky bleeds into the earth. So content, your heart had slowed, the salve in your wounds and the bandages compressing the areas with the most problems and forcing them to be numb. 

When you had nearly fallen asleep, Ghost had peeled back to look down at you; eyes malleable as they slipped over your battered body. 

“Hm,” he hums, reaching to his side and grabbing for the shirt he had stolen. After a few minutes of quiet curses and apologetic kisses, the large piece of fabric was over your top. The Lieutenant had begrudgingly admitted that the scraps of pants you had on now would have to do until you got proper attention. 

“Giving the squirrels a show, then, Simon?” The man rolls his eyes deeply at the sarcastic comment, rubbing up and down your legs to keep circulation going as he readies to move you.

“They better keep quiet ‘bout it,” Ghost grumbles, running a hand through his hair, “Else I’ll have to rip a few tails.”

“So violent,” You wince when your shoulder is gripped, neck limp as your upper half was rotated. Gnashing your teeth, the Lieutenant shushes you comfortably, raising your body to rest in the crook of his large arm. Muscles tense and loosen, your cheek now resting on your Lover’s pec. You hear him hiss silently at the pressure on his broken ribs as guilt hits you. “Not the squirrels’ fault.” 

“It is if they keep looking at ya. Only I get to see you like that.” Your pain-laced laugh is cut off when you’re lifted, large hands under your knees helping equalize your body. 

A strained whine exits your lips, straining to get air as you pant and clench your eyes shut. Ghost wasn’t doing much better—gritting his teeth and tilting his head back. 

Feet stumble before righting themselves, lids opening as lashes flutter over bloodless cheeks to stare down at you. 

The word seems to stop.

“...Tell me you’re alright.” You heard that for what it was—Tell me to keep going, because if you don’t then I won’t be able to. 

Blinking up at him, your nose slots under his chin as you feel him shake with exertion, lips pressing deep into his raging pulse. You swallow down saliva as his grip on you tightens, pressing you closer; giving you his body heat.

“I’m okay, Simon. Not…not lost yet.” 

“Good.” He lets his eyes close for a moment, taking you in as he lets his nose be coated in your scent, the flesh under his fingertips. Ghost knows some of your wounds reopen, and, thus, his bare feet start off into the woods. His men would still be at the Evac point waiting for them. Price would have given the order. “...I’ll be needing you ‘round. Might lose my head otherwise, eh?”

“You do seem to have a few loose screws when I’m not near.” 

“That was an exaggeration,” Simon grumbles. 

You scoff, trying not to puke at his limping steps. The word swirls, but the man carrying you stays ever clear. “No,” you whisper, “No, it wasn’t.”

Scared lips pull up, but the birds respond for him. 

Less than ten percent out from the Evac point is when you drop a tidbit of a thought to the man.

“Y’know what I want, Ghost?” The large Brit side-steps a downed tree, sweat dripping down his chin to splatter to your skin.

“What is it?” He pants, sparing you a glance as his eyebrows are constantly furrowed in concentration. Your talking made it easier to push on.

“A fucking cake. A big one.” Blue eyes blink and his feet nearly stumble to a stop before he forces on. A gasp of a chuckle makes your heart skip a beat as voices start up from the next tree line.

“Keep talking to me, Love, and I’ll buy you the whole bloody bakery.” Soldiers burst from the bushes, and Ghost calls out identification as everyone gapes. Guns immediately lower.

Medics rush forward, but still on high alert, the Lieutenant snaps at them, bringing you closer into his hold as he pushes onward. 

“Where’s the fucking heli?!” Everyone stops and points. Huffing, Ghost shoves forward. 

“The whole bakery?” You slur, giggling and feeling the kiss on your head. 

“Every bastard pastry’ll be yours. Count on it.” 

—

“Simon, you promised.” Your wheel-chair bound form pouts as the man in question deadpans from behind you, leaning on the handles. His balaclava can only hide so much.

The air is sweet with the scent of desserts and bread. 

“Birdie, you can’t eat all ‘O that, you’ll explode like you took a .308 round to the head.” The woman behind the counter pales, pulling at the collar of her shirt with her smile becoming strained.

“Is that a challenge?” You glance over your shoulder, smirking wide. 

“No,” Simon blanky states, the skin over his nose bridge and under-eye completely black and blue. 

“I think that was a challenge.” 

“It wasn’t.”

The customers grind their palms into their eye sockets, some tuning around in line and leaving entirely.

“Simon,” you intertwine your hands and lean to show him, eyes wide and pleading. “Please.” Drawing out the word, you smile with everything you can. 

The both of you connect in a battle of wills—you with that infectious innocent and sly nature, and Simon with a tight glare and tired eyes. A blatant will to please you in every aspect and a need to see you happy at all times. This goes on for a full minute before a loud sigh echoes off the walls, shoulders deflating. A hidden kiss is pressed firmly to your head.

You giggle loudly at the authoritative order.

“One of everything.”

TAGS:

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[formulawolff]

"keep 'em comin'" - m.v.

pairing: girl best friend!reader x max verstappen

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alcohol consumption, light marijuana usage, cussing, max munching on some cooter! (that will come later in the fic), enemies to friends to lovers, typical men behavior (being creepy in a bar), mentions of physical threats, kelly slander, THINGS ARE MESSY BETWEEN KELLY AND MAX (so if y'all don't like light infidelity/gray areas then don't read) yadayadayada (y'all already know the vibes)

a/n: hellllloooo! <3 this is my first time writing for max so if this isn't quite like him, i apologize in advance. this fic is based off of a request and i had to write about it since i've been feral for max (he finally took off that damned cap!) this may end up as a two or three part series. we'll see, we'll see!

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

"i see the decrepit hag decided to let you out of her clutches tonight. congratulations for being able to be out and about in public without her breathing down your neck!"

the figure standing to your left scoffs, muttering a few incoherent words under his breath. he slides into the booth, propping his chin up with a hand. the other finds the glistening glass, a bead of condensation rolling down, pooling onto the rigid table.

"about that."

"what about it?" you arch a brow, lips connecting with the rim of your own drink, "max, did something happen before you left?"

he shrugs, brows pinching together as he sips on his mixed drink, a decadent yet smooth concoction of his favorite liquors blended together, "it's nothing serious."

"max," setting your glass down, you lean forward ever so slightly, his name louder than normal over the overwhelming mixture of voices and volume, "what. happened."

"oh you know," he waves a hand, careful not to meet your piercing gaze, "she's upset that i was going out to see you. that's all."

the moment max mentioned her, you knew exactly who she was.

she was kelly piquet. max verstappen's beloved wag. the woman who scooped him up the moment that clock struck midnight on his eighteenth birthday.

the woman you loathed more than anyone in the world.

but you wouldn't tell max that.

after all, you couldn't. the pair had been dating for quite some time. and although max wouldn't say it outright, you were well aware that she was not going anywhere anytime soon.

no matter how much the two fought. no matter how much she wanted to make your relationship with max as strained as possible.

your friendship with max had a rocky start. tumultuous, even. the two of you met when you were both seventeen, as your parents were mutual friends. since max was involved in racing, and you aimed to pursue professional photography, max's father suggested that the two of you get to know one another.

of course, at that time, the last thing teenage max wanted was some nerdy girl following him around. especially when there were other teenage boys involved. cool teenage boys who enjoyed to fuck around with fast machinery.

he teased you relentlessly, tormenting you whenever he could. he ridiculed your photographic abilities, scorning the prints or slideshows you provided. often times, he stated that your pictures were, "absolute shit" and your clip compilations "were not going to get you anywhere in formula one."

of course, you matched his energy. after all, you weren't going to take anyone's shit. you knew you had to advocate for yourself. you weren't going to make it in the industry if you weren't assertive.

eventually, your snapshots landed you a job at red bull. well, max did have a part to play in that.

after a couple of years, the dutch driver apologized for the way he treated you at the time, requesting a truce. the truce would consist of you sticking around as his personal media manager.

in turn, he would promote your work to the world of formula one and assist you in your way up the ladder in any way he could. he would land your sponsorships. he would chip in some cash here and there to get you more advanced software or equipment.

the only stipulation was that you had to follow him.

everywhere and anywhere he went. every event. every interview. every grand prix.

no. matter. what.

of course, with the stakes involved, you knew it was too good of a deal to refuse. with max's rise to prominence in formula one, you knew it was now or never.

so, you accepted his offer.

oh jos verstappen, what a bastard you were.

cause now, here you were in vegas, sitting across from the man you loved. well, the man you were in love with.

hopelessly and utterly in love with.

"that isn't unusual for her," you scoff, hands reaching for your purse, "i do have something that could lighten the mood!"

"and that is?" max's gaze follows your hand, making note of the delicately wrapped joint between your fingers.

"my friend mary jane!"

"you of all people know i shouldn't be smoking," the dutch driver shakes his head, yet proceeds to scoot out of the booth anyway, "i'll still come out there with you. i won't be taking any hits though."

"yeah, yeah," you wave a hand, "that's what they all say."

as you slip out of the booth, you feel max's hand connect with your lower back, almost guiding you through the throng of locals. a few of them chirp greetings to max, others chattering, creating a buzz within the air.

well, there went any sort of anonymity.

so much for keeping a low profile for the weekend.

yet, when in vegas, that was almost impossible to maintain. especially when you were a man of max's caliber.

the two of you manage to slip out, just before fans started asking for autographs. of course, max obliged to a few, signing a cap here and an arm there.

even though it was quickly approaching december, the air was mild, dipping in the low fifties. max hovers to your right, shuddering as a breeze rolls through. you curse as it quenches your flame, motioning for max to stand closer.

"can you shield me for a moment, pretty boy?"

"pretty boy?"

from the way the words tumbled from his mouth, max seemingly was not to keen to the idea of being referred to as pretty boy. yet, he inches even closer to you, providing a barrier as the lighter comes to life, igniting your delicate pre-roll.

"what else should i call you?" shrugging, you exhale, the smoke billowing into the night, "or do you prefer world champion?"

"how much did you have to drink before i got here?" the dutch driver cocks his head, his stare almost picking you apart.

"enough," you respond, lips curling into a devious grin, "don't act like you didn't like that."

"i did," he counters, "that's the issue here."

"and why is that an issue?"

"because we used to fucking despise one another. we used to tear one another apart. and now here i am, going out for drinks with you when i shouldn't be. here i am, looking forward to your texts or your snaps when i know i should be thinking about someone else.

fuck, even when i'm with her, my mind wanders to you. we're together all of the fucking time yet i crave you. i miss you when we're apart. what are you doing to me?"

before your mind can even formulate a coherent response, an individual saunters up to the two of you, drinks in hand.

it's an older man, approximately in his early or mid fifties. he's balding, as a few of the greasy hairs were poorly combed over. he was well dressed, but poorly groomed, as there was quite the scruff plaguing his feautures.

"good evening," his words are directed towards you, yet you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes were fixated on your joint, "i was wondering if the pretty lady could exchange a hit or two for a-"

"she's not accepting shit from you," max's voice is low, the driver taking another half step toward you, almost to shield you even further.

"c'mon man," the man drawls, the words slurred, "i wasn't fucking speakin' to ya. i was talkin' to her."

"and i'm talking to you," max's jaw clenches, "get the fuck out of here."

"and you are?" the man arches a brow, "surely not her boyfriend."

"actually i am," the words are forced through gritted teeth, the driver's fists clenched to his sides, "i'm her fiancé. i suggest you leave before i-"

"got it," the man exhales, rolling his eyes, "it was worth a shot. what the fuck ever man."

as he turns to head back towards the bar, you feel fingers find yours, intertwining together. max squeezes your hand gently, "are you okay?"

"fiancé?" relief ripples as you notice his demeanor crumble, "what was that all about? were you manifesting something or-"

"come on," max tugs at your hand, "let's go to another place. get a few more drinks. keep 'em comin'. keep the alcohol flowin', you know?"

"max," clicking your tongue, you frown as your realize your joint was burnt out, "what is going on between you and kelly?"

"i don't want to talk about her right now," the driver won't even look at you, keeping his focus on the glow and ambiance of the city, "we can talk about anything else but her. please. i don't even want to think about her right now. shouldn't you be relieved? why aren't you relieved?"

"because you look stressed the fuck out!" you retort, "and it stresses me out because i love you and i can't handle seeing you all bummed about some hag who is only using you!"

max freezes, your hand flying up to your mouth. heat floods your cheeks, heart thudding against your rib-cage as you realize what just came pouring from your mouth.

"did you just tell me that you love me?"

his voice is soft. dangerously low. merely a whisper, barely audible over the bustling noise of vegas.

tears well up, shame setting your body ablaze as you nod, biting your lower lip, "y-yeah. and i know i shouldn't-"

"shut the fuck up," hands meet with your cheeks, bringing you in close, "just shut the fuck up and come here."

in that moment, max's mouth finds yours. the kiss is tender, brimmed with nothing but passion, breathing life back into your lungs. it was grounding yet exhilarating, waves of euphoria crashing over.

he pulls away, forehead brushing against yours, "why haven't i done this sooner?"

"because kelly-"

"i don't give a fuck about kelly right now."

"give a fuck about me then," you murmur against his mouth, relishing the way his hands explore, roaming along your back, trailing down to your ass, "you think we should take this somewhere more private? before someone snaps a photo of max verstappen making out with his media manager?"

"that's a good idea," he nods, "i'll arrange an uber."

although it was merely minutes in the time it took between getting into the uber and making it to your hotel room, it felt like an eternity. yet, with the way max's hand gripped your thigh the entire drive, you didn't complain. the other hand held onto yours, pressing gentle kisses to your knuckles.

if only this was your everyday life.

if only things were different.

if only he fell in love with you first.

once the two of you were in the elevator, he maintained his composure, as there were other people stepping in and out. there was even a little boy, in awe that his favorite driver was staying in the same hotel as him. max was kind enough to gift him one of his beaded bracelets, a small memento from a win during the 2022 season.

if only that child knew what his favorite driver was really up to.

once that light on your keypad flashed green, his mouth was on yours, tongue gliding along your lower lip, practically begging for access. his hands were all over, tugging on your clothes, desperate to see what was underneath.

"fuck," there's a rumble in his chest as he lays on you on the bed, pinning you to the mattress.

"what?" you can't help but wriggle a little, slightly flustered by the intensity of his gaze.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this," a dusty rose hue tinges his cheeks, "i-i almost don't know what to do now. i've thought about it so frequently that i had it down to every little detail. and now i have you here, right where i want you but i feel like i'm going to fuck this up and-"

"max," tender fingers sweep locks of hair from his forehead, "do what you feel is right."

"i just want to show you how much i love you. i need you to know how loved you are."

"i think i have an idea," the tip of your nose brushes against his, "is there anything i can do to help?"

"will you let me taste you?"

instinctively, your hips buck forward, legs spreading so that he can have access. you can feel his cock stiffen in his pants, pressing against your inner thigh, aching for some sort of relief.

"yes," you nod, "you can taste me."

"f-fuck," his jaw nearly goes slack as you guide his hand through the waistband of your panties, the pad of his index finger circling your clit, "you're this wet for me? already? my poor baby. all soaked and desperate for me."

"m-max," the way his name falls from your lips is intoxicating, "i need you."

"are you sure this is okay?" he pauses, eyes meeting with yours, "if at any moment you need me to stop, just tell me."

"you are more than okay. i promise."

fingers delicately unbutton your jeans, rolling them down your legs. in the process, you peel off your hoodie and shirt, tossing them to the floor.

just the mere sight of you half-dressed had him coming undone, his inhibitions slipping away by the second. fuck, you were so stunning. someone who deserved to be worshipped and cherished.

far more beautiful than he could have ever imagined.

situating himself between your legs, max's mouth roams, placing wet kisses all over your inner thighs, hips, and abdomen. his tongue flattens against your heated core, savoring the way you squirmed under his touch.

"you need me to taste you baby?" he coos, cocking his head.

"yes," you plead, skin hot to the touch, your clit engorged, folds slick with juices.

"hmmm," he hums, hands grasping your thighs to spread you open further.

"once i get these off of you, you're all mine. and only mine. got that?"

yet, there was one thing that happened to slip max verstappen's mind that night in vegas.

well, one woman.

the woman he referred to as his girlfriend, but the woman he was not in love with.

kelly piquet.

[skywalkerslvt]

Leon Fucking You In A Sketchy Alleyway

❥Pairing: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

❥Summary: Leon and reader get horny while he teaches her how to play pool, so he fucks her in a sketchy alleyway.

❥CW: 18+, smut, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, sorta praise kink? 2.2k words

❥a/n: another very rushed and not proofread fic lol! Was half asleep when I finished writing it so I hope it's not too hard to follow. Enjoy <3

The day had been long and exhausting. You and Leon had spent hours on patrol, dealing with the usual chaos that the city seemed to attract. As partners on the police force, you and Leon had grown accustomed to each other's company, you developed a rhythm that made every situation–stressful or not–so easy. You guys were inseparable, best friends even, and you worked well together. 

After clocking out, a few of your coworkers suggested heading to a nearby bar to unwind. It was a dingy, dimly lit place, frequented by off duty cops and regulars looking for a cheap drink. You and Leon had exchanged a glance and shrugged–why not? 

The bar was slightly crowded, the stale air smelling of cheap beer and cigarettes. You found a table with your coworkers and ordered a round of drinks. The chatter was lively, everyone sharing stories from the day and laughing at old jokes. 

A few drinks later, you found yourself tipsy and alone at your table, your coworkers mingling around the bar. One of them was having a game of pool with Leon. You had decided to stay at the table and watch the game while nursing your drink. 

Leon stood at the pool table, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he lined up his shot. He leaned over, his body a perfect blend of tension and relaxation. God, he looked good. The two of you had developed a close bond over the years. You trusted him with your life, and he trusted you with his. Your friendship was solid, built on shared experiences and mutual respect. Over time, your friendship had grown into something deeper–an unspoken bond that nothing else could compare to. You found yourself drawn to him in ways that went beyond mere friendship, your heart racing whenever he flashed that boyish smile or offered a comforting word. It was more than just professional respect that you two shared; it was magnetic attraction that was getting harder and harder for the two of you to ignore. 

It wasn't until Leon had walked over and stood in front of you, that you realized the game was over. You had been so lost in your thoughts, staring at him, that you hadn't noticed. 

“Ever played?” he asked with a boyish grin, nodding to the pool table. 

You shook your head, taking a sip of your drink. “Nope. Never learned how. I've always wanted to try, though.” 

A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. “Want me to teach you? It's not too hard.”

You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nervousness. “Sure, why not? But be warned, I'm a fast learner.” 

Leon laughed as you stood up, grabbing a couple of cue sticks. “We'll see about that. Come on.”

As you walked over to the pool table, the noisy sounds of the bar faded into the background, your only focus being Leon as he handed you a cue stick and explained the rules of the game. His hands occasionally brushed against yours as he adjusted your grip and stance. 

“First, you need to get your stance right,” he said, positioning himself behind you. As he pressed his chest to your back, he began guiding your arms with his hands. “Like this.”

You could feel his breath ghost on your neck, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. You hummed in affirmation, trying to focus on the game. 

“Now, aim for the ball,” he continued, voice low and steady. “And don’t forget to keep your eyes on the cue ball.”

You took a shot, but missed the ball completely. Leon chuckled lightly behind you. “That’s alright, it takes practice. Here, let me help you get the hang of it.”

He pressed himself even closer behind you and placed a hand on your upper back, pushing you forward until you were bent over the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you felt him put his arms around you, his much larger hands enveloping your own as he corrected your grip once again and guided your hands into the correct position. His crotch was barely grazing your ass, but that was all it took to turn you on. You inhaled sharply at the compromising position you two were in, feeling heat begin to pool between your thighs. 

Leon noticed your sudden intake of breath, and leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, most likely from the few drinks he had. “Now, watch how I do it,” he said while guiding your hands.

With his guidance, you took another shot, this time hitting the ball. It rolled slowly, hitting another ball, but didn’t make any pockets. “I guess I’m not as fast a learner as I thought,” you said with a shaky exhale. 

Leon chuckled, the sound sending butterflies throughout your stomach. “You’re doing great. Just need a bit of practice. He moved his hands to your waist, his presence a comforting weight behind your back. 

"Want to try again?" he asked, his voice softer now, more intimate. You nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. He positioned your hands again, his touch lingering longer than necessary. The atmosphere around you grew thick with unspoken tension, each brush of his fingers against yours sending sparks through your veins.

As you lined up for another shot, Leon's hand slid from your back to your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip. "Just like that," he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. You could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, his closeness intoxicating.

You took the shot, and this time, the ball sank into a pocket. You couldn't help but grin, turning your head slightly to look at him. "I did it," you said, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and triumph.

Leon smiled back, eyes locking onto yours.“Atta girl! Let's try it one more time.”

As you took the shot, you felt Leon's body press even closer against yours, his crotch pressed firmly against your ass now, and you could feel his half hard cock through his jeans. His breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. As you took your shot, you experimentally pushed your hips back, slightly grinding your ass against his crotch. 

Leon's grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your skin as he fought to control his own desire. You could feel the tension in his body, the barely contained need radiating from him in waves.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice strained with restraint. "You're a natural."

You turned to look at him, the intensity in his eyes leaving you breathless. "Thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

Leon opened his mouth to say something, but abruptly closed it in hesitation. “Do you…Do you wanna get out of here?” He asked. 

You caught the hesitation in Leon's voice, sensing there was something more behind his question. Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his eyes for any sign of what he was really asking.

His gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips, a silent invitation hanging in the air. Without a word, you nodded, your own desire mirrored in his intense gaze.

In a heartbeat, Leon took your hand, leading you through the crowded bar towards the exit. The world around you faded into a blur as anticipation coursed through your veins.

The night air was cool on your flushed skin. Leon led you to the dark alleyway beside the bar, abruptly pushing you flush against the rough brick wall, and before you could even register the slight pain, his lips were on yours in a sloppy, open mouthed kiss. His hands roamed your body, moving up from your hips to your breasts where he groped you roughly. 

Your hands grabbed his now fully hard cock through the fabric of his jeans, causing him to let out a strangled moan into your mouth. You fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, the urgency in your movements mirroring his own need for you. Leon's ragged breaths mingled with your own as you finally succeeded, the sound of his heavy breaths filling the air as you pushed his jeans down his hips.

His hands had moved down to your thighs now, reaching up your skirt as he ran his finger along the wetness of your panties.

“Fuck…already so wet f’me,” he teased as he slid your soaked panties to the side, gathering your slick on his fingers as he pushed a finger inside of you while circling your clit with his thumb.

You whined as you began pumping his hard cock, precum staining your hand. “Leon…need you inside of me, now.”

“Fuck–I know, baby, I know. Just be a good girl and take my fingers for now. Then you can go dumb on my cock, yeah?”

You moaned and nodded, bucking your hips into his hand to gain more friction on your clit. 

With a wicked grin, Leon complied, his finger delving deeper inside you, curling and stroking in all the right places as you whimpered and squirmed against him. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, the sensation building with every thrust of his hand.

You clung to him desperately, your need for release growing with each passing second. Leon's touch was electrifying, his fingers expertly navigating your slick folds as you teetered on the edge of ecstasy.

Right when you were about to cum, Leon removed his fingers, bringing them up to his lips and tasting your slick. He grabbed your thigh, holding it up around his hip as he guided his thick tip to your entrance, pushing in slowly. 

You keened at how his thick cock stretched the walls of your cunt. You've never had a cock this big, and he was filling you so good. You clenched around him as he gave you a second to adjust, causing him to let out a low groan. 

Unable to hold back any longer, Leon rolled his hips into yours as he leaned in and began sucking marks onto your neck. His cock was angled just right and was brushing against that gummy spot that had you seeing stars. 

You began meeting his thrusts, urging him to take you deeper and faster. Leon’s breath was hot against your ear as he moaned dirty praises, igniting a fire deep within you. 

As his thrusts became sloppier, signalling his quickly approaching release, Leon began working his fingers on your clit, pushing you further to the edge. 

The alleyway echoed with the rhythmic slapping of Leon's hips against your own, mingled with your shared moans that filled the air.

With one final, deep thrust, he hit your g-spot perfectly, sending you over the edge. Your chest heaved as you let out a strangled cry, your walls clenching tightly around his cock. A wave of ecstasy washed over you, your cunt gushing around him in a release that left you trembling. 

The sensation of your velvety walls tightening around him was all Leon needed. His grip on your hips tightened, and with a guttural moan, he buried himself deep inside you. You felt his cock twitch as he spilled his hot cum, filling you completely. His body shuddered against yours, both of you lost in the overwhelming pleasure of the moment.

As the intensity of your orgasms subsided, Leon remained close, his breath warm against your neck. He gently pulled out, and you could feel your combined releases trickling down your thighs. He steadied you, his hands now soft and tender on your waist. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low, but laced with concern. 

You nodded, a dopey smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you replied, leaning your forehead against his. 

Leon chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “We should probably get back before the others start wondering where we are,” he said, but he made no move to pull away from you. 

“Yeah, we probably should,” you replied reluctantly, moving to adjust your clothes.

Before you could move to leave, Leon caught your wrist, pulling you back for one more kiss. It was slow and tender, unlike the kiss you shared in the heat of the moment. “This…this wasn't just a one-time thing, right?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. 

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

With a final shared glance and a knowing smile, you both made your way back into the bar. The noise and lights greeted you, a stark contrast to the intimate darkness of the alleyway. As you rejoined your coworkers, the atmosphere was lively, with no one seeming to have noticed your absence.

Leon slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. "Let's grab another drink," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You nodded, your heart still racing from the intensity of your time together. As you sipped your drinks and mingled with your friends, the connection between you and Leon felt stronger than ever, the weight of your shared secret hanging between you.

[cybercl0ne]

6-1 // army x f!reader

Summary: you get trapped in an elevator with 6 hot masked men, what could go wrong?

Tw: gangbang, double penetration, pure porn, 18+, vaginal penetration, anal penetration, no jimmy, creampies (possible impreg?), squirting, degradation, Cum. Everywhere. Multiple orgasm.

You were running late. Like really late and you knew rushing up 10 flights of stairs was not happening. You decided to call for the elevator instead, guessing that your boss would cut you some slack depending on your excuse.

As you elevator ringed, the rusty, grinding wires weary hilt in front of you, opening the door to welcome you only to see 6 masked men standing, staring blankly at you, waiting for you to get on. You feel flushed at how weirdly attractive these men looked, their gear making them look buffed and their faces covered by black mask, only keeping their majestic eyes available.

They hold the elevator for you, steeping on you squirm in a small circle around them, they give you space like you were foreign to them. “Thanks guys.” You nervously laugh, going immediately silent as you feel their eyes soften, a glint of unknown lust festering as well. “No problem little lady.” One says seductively, eyeing you, keeping contact as you stand in awe at how his voice rumbled through you. You nod, and hold your head down, trying to make the high tension settle down. All hell breaks loose when the elevator suddenly stops and you drop your smartphone, bending down to reach it, unintentionally giving a show to the men around you. Your skirt hiking up just barely before your ass, showing a corner of your colorful panties. One of them whistle another fall into line with sounds of amusement, one in front of you, you caught readjusting his clear hard on.

“My god, what a nice view..~” one calls out, the others joining in a laugh. Your body felt warm, your lower body growing in heat as these hot men surround you, ready to pounce.

“we’re you just waiting for us to jump on you little lamb?” Another questions. One wraps their hand around your waist, feeling your hips up and down, staring into your eyes for approval. As soon as you give your small nod and whimper the men ravenge you.

“You dirty little slut, getting on an elevator, waiting for someone like us to come along to destroy your little body.” They spit out, gripping your ass, one groping at your tits, pooling them out of your bra. You squeal as you feel your cunt getting more needy, your panties getting sticky with your slick. One of them proceed you rip your professional tights, another man going in for a kiss, staring their deep brown eyes into yours, kneeding your clothed clit as the others worked to get the rest of your articles of clothing out of the way, whipping their own cocks out. “grab my cock you little bitch!” A blue eyes one demands, his heavy British accent making you moan. “Look at her. She’s enjoying getting manhandled! Get my cock in her mouth, see if she’s smiling then?” He slaps your face, slapping his cock on your face. You poke your tongue out, focused on the pre that sticks to your cheek as he slaps it deeper onto your skin, groaning, rubbing it up and down your lips, teasing you.

“I’m gonna taste this sweet cunt, I just know it’s wet and ready for me~” a slim yet buff man replied, stroking his own cock as he rips your panties straight off, his gloved finger glazing your tight hole, his warm and slimy tongue taking its place. “Put your fucking hand on my cock, bitch!” One yells in another heavy accent, his cock way to big to fit in your hand, you attempt to grasp onto his cock, sliding your hand back and forth, your eyes rolling back as you choke down another man’s cock, his hairs prickling your nose as he stuffs himself deep. You clench around nothing as your pussy gets demolished. Feeling yourself on the edge of squirting, you scream out your moan through getting your throat pounded while fisting 2 other men’s cocks.

“Oh the little girls getting close!” The man attending to your cunt stops, and announces. Erupting a slap and a laugh from everyone. Slaps to your ass, face and pussy. You squirm as your climax was so close, them teasing you by slapping around your poor aching pussy. “Awe, baby girl wants to cum? Do you wanna cum baby?” One man says, pampering your face with kisses, his stubble tickling your face. Unable to speak with your cock stuffed mouth you nod.

“Use your fucking words baby.. what do you want? Tell daddy so he can give it to you…” he whines, using his now ungloved fingers to rub up and down your slit, his thumb grazing your clit.

The man pops his cock out of your mouth, shifting to your tits, as 3 other men use your hands and thighs. “p-please.. p-please let me cum!” You yelp, begging with teary half lidded eyes. As you beg you stick out your tongue for a man that jerks his cock over your face, his eyes squinting, telling you he’s close. He moans and finally shoots his hot cum out all over your face, it splurting on your open tongue and one of your eyes. The rest of the men join in, cumming on different parts of your body. One man slapping his cock on your ass, cumming alongside it. Another letting it out on your hands. The man that was in charge of your pussy starts up, tonging you until you feel that white peak, clenching around his slithering tongue, his ball-shaped piercing hitting your clit just right. “C-cumming!” You yell, shaking intensely as you squirt all over the bottom man’s face. The biggest man, lifts you up between your orgasm, making your squirt spray everywhere, drenching the boys as the big man lines himself up with your small, tight pussy, his cock twitching as it meshes in your juices, tapping lightly on your cunt.

“That’s a good girl, letting it rain like a fountain baby!” The man says, kissing your agape mouth. You feel like you’ve been fucked dumb even though you know that these men have just started their satisfaction. You looked down, seeing the big man’s cock, you immediately started to realize that he was the biggest for a reason. His cock twitched at the attention. The men laughed.

“To big for you princess?”

“Gotta make sure to stuff you nice and good honey…”

“I can’t wait to get a taste of that.” all around the men were commenting. Some with sweet replies, others with want and need, they all wanted a piece of you, rubbing their cocks in unison as the big man inches you down on his fat dick.

“N-no! I-it won’t fit!~” you screech, feeling your cunt being slip apart by the big man. “So…damn…tight…” the big man whispers in your ear, moaning heavily. “gonna stuff you so full of my seed that your stomach will grow.” He chuckles deeply, while bottoming out, stuffing you all the way down that you can’t even make a noise at first, only broken moans as your tits bounced from the recoil.

“She’s loving it! Look at her face, she can’t even process how fucked dumb she’s getting!” One points out, stroking his cock harder. “Careful, we don’t want her to break too easily~” another one joins in, groaning at the show he was getting. You felt your insides being rearranged, putting your hand to your stomach, you feel the bulge that dives in and out ever time the man harshly pumps his cock in and out of you. You heave and huff through it, bending your head back to kiss his groaning lips. As you make out with the man with his mask halfway up you feel his rhythm only growing more sloppy and harder, your tits flopping around uncontrollably as he pounds you.

“don’t take all the fun, let me enjoy that sweet cunt!” One interjects, closing into your face, smirking. The big man that was currently demolishing your insides laughs and suddenly stops, popping his cock out of your pussy. You whimper at the sudden empty feeling of his warm twitching cock not blanketing your cunt.

“Don’t worry sweet girl, you’ll be double stuffed in a minute.” You squirm at the tone and way he said it, looking in your eyes, kissing your lips deeply as he adjust himself to your pussy, the big man aiming at your ass, still holding you up.

“Sure you can take it little lamb?” A background man adds, coming up to you, using your bent thighs to stroke his cock. Another one tags along to your other thigh, some staying back, enjoying their front row seats to the show.

Both of the men that stood at your holes entered in at the same time causing you to yell out, tightening and clenching as he tore through your ass while the other guy played through your cunt, fighting his way to your cirvix.

“S-so tight! God damn, you’re gonna break my cock off princess!” He adds, pumping his long hard dick inside you, the big guy rutting deeper inside you. You felt your holes getting violated, being stretched and feeling the searing pain and pressure from them, your stomach showing a faint bulge once again. Juices started to pour out of you, your moans filling the air as they grunted, pounding your holes at an unholy pace.

“p-please n-no… I-I’m gonna break! I-I can’t take it.. w-wanna cum!” You huffed out, feeling yourself getting lost. The rest of the men grunted and moaned, some mixed laughs as they felt themselves getting close to. “don’t worry baby I-I’m close to!” The man pounding your asshole shouts, nibbling on your neck as the one destroying your weeping, leaking pussy grunts in approval, heading toward the same climax. As you feel yourself being overstimulated, drawing to close to cumming they both cum at the same time, both your ass and cunt getting pumped full of hot milky cum. You felt yourself tipping over the edge but as soon as he popped out of you another man entered you, finishing inside you as well.

“We all gotta take turns cumming in that pretty cunt~” one man says, exiting your warm, clenching pussy as another enters in, thumping inside you, unloading his hot seed. You felt your stomach about to burst as you also felt your cunt driving over the edge, your legs going limp as your eyes rolled back.

as the last man came inside you, you reached your climax, squirting a ton, pushing some of the fresh hot cum out with it. The men kissed all over your fucked out body, whispering sweet words into your ear, breast, thighs, and neck. You giggled, mind fucked and still squirting, coming down from the long high as the elevator finally opened. “That was fun, I hope we can do it again sometime~” the big man said, climbing out of the elevator with the rest of his friends who already readjusted themselves while you laid, displayed and completely fucked out on the elevator floor.

[nohoney]

touya x drug dealer! reader has been an idea that i’ve been wanting to do for a while. i had thoughts of cute flowing dresses, flutes of champagne, strawberries with brown sugar, and a powdery compact mirror with a credit card lined with white at the edge ♡

Touya hates going to the country club. He hates having to get ready to wear the stupid polo shirt and pressed pants his mother picked out for him. He hates having to take out most of his face jewelry, only leaving his eyebrow piercing as a slight rebellion to irritate his father. It’s all so annoying to him but to be fair—

They all hate going to the country club together.

It’s only an obligation for them to attend as a family. To show up so that Enji’s professional business ties can remain intact if the event is important enough. It’s the only time everyone agrees together as a family. Despite the fact that going to the country club is meant to be a luxurious get away, the Todoroki’s see it as anything but.

With the exception of Shouto who is too young to partake in anything, the rest of the family cope in their own ways to survive an agonizing event that none of them want to attend.

Enji smokes in private with the other men, Rei quietly nurses a glass of white wine as she makes polite conversation with the other wives, Fuyumi and Natsuo discreetly pass a weed pen between one another, and Touya…

Well he’s got his special friend that he knows where to find.

All throughout the club, there’s little signs that lead to a certain someone who exchanges little treats for just the right price. It could be money or it could be secrets or something else entirely, but the exchange given has to be deemed equal in value to what is handed out. There’s bouquets that are found throughout the entire club, all seemingly of the same variations except for one flower that’s meant to point you in a certain direction.

Touya walks through the club, noting the one flower that sticks out in the bouquets as a subtle sign of where to find you.

Following the secret path, it leads him this time to a room with only a single piano in the center and the white curtains drawn over the windows.

It’s a beautiful grand piece of shiny, lacquered black and is maintained regularly in its tuning. No music is being played though, all that’s heard is the tinkling laugh from one of the two people that are sitting on the piano bench. Touya walks with his hands in pockets, leisurely in his step when he approaches you. Next to you is the caddy that often accompanies your father on the golf course, amber eyes lifting to him and giving him a friendly nod.

“Touya, so nice to see you again!” you greet with a warm smile. You’re graceful in the way you stand up from the piano bench, sliding your hand along the caddy’s shoulders as you make your way to Touya. He leans down, used to the customary greeting of kissing each cheek from you. The perfume you wear is new, smelling more like citrus and freesia than the usual florals he’s used to.

Turning back to the caddy, you wave him off. “I’ll meet you later Keigo, okay?”

The feathery blonde haired caddy stands from the piano bench, pressing a kiss to your temple first before making his way out.

“So, what can I do for you today Touya? You wanna be perked up? Or you wanna relax?” You ask him immediately, leaning against the grand piano and clacking your manicured nails against the surface.

“You ever think that maybe I’m just here to see you? And nothing more?” Touya playfully nudged his shoe against your ankle, also noting the clean polish of your pedicure. Strappy white heels are your choice of shoe today to compliment your tea dress.

You’re this vision of a good girl, prim and proper, soft and sweet. All the mannerisms you exude are perfected and practiced, taught firmly from the all girls school that you attended. On the surface, you’re just simply the rich daughter to the man who owns the country club. You’re known to love lounging by the pool or reading under the shady trees by the garden. The older adults love to fawn over you, even trying to set you up with suitors but only if they’re screened through your father first.

Rolling your eyes at him, you flash him a smile that sends the message of ‘yeah right’ before you wave him over.

You lift the piano bench where your current stash resides. It’s organized meticulously of all types of different pills and already measured bags of different powders. Nude colored nails hover over the selection that you know him to always get, but you’re polite enough to ask first for confirmation before plucking the packed substances from their spot.

“The usual?”

Touya pulls money out from his pocket, the same exact amount that he’s paid every single time he’s seen you. “The usual.” he confirms.

You hold two baggies for him, one with two blue pills and the other filled halfway of white powder. Touya takes it from you and waits for you to take out the held out cash.

“Mm, this dress doesn’t have pockets. Can’t take it.” you smile as you shut the piano bench, “I’ll take a kiss though.”

Touya smiles back, pocketing his cash alongside the goodies you’ve given him. “Is that how you’re taking payments today? With kisses?”

He knows you want him, you’ve been wanting him ever since he had fucked you at your father’s birthday party just a few months back. He can still recall the champagne he tasted on your lips, the silky material of your party dress as he pushed it over your hips, the smell of peony and honey spritzed onto your skin when he had bit your shoulder. It was an amazing fuck, one that he thought about going back for, but he liked to see you dangle yourself for him. Beg him with those pretty eyes and try to seduce him with low cut dresses or leave lingering touches that you hoped pull him in.

You shrug your shoulders and play coy, stepping into his personal space to smooth your hands along his shoulders as if you were going in to hug him. “Special just for you, I’ll figure it out with the rest.”

His hand slides along the small of your back to pull you in and close the space. “You are so bad.”

“I happen to be a very good girl, my record shows that.”

“Your records were expunged by your dear daddy.”

“So therefore, I have done nothing wrong.” you giggle, “C’mon, stop teasing me like this. You never want to see me outside of this place. I only see you when you and your family come to the club for an event, and you guys always look so miserable.”

“And that’s why I’m here,” Touya’s hand drops lower, grabbing at your ass and relishing your little gasp, “because you help me get through these aggravating events.”

He teases you, has you chasing after him and keeps him entertained whenever he comes to this ridiculously posh club. You play the polite girl when you’re out among the crowd but he’s always felt your eyes on him whenever the two of you are in the same room together. If you could keep your eyes on him the entire time you would, but sadly you have to get pulled aside from so many people. From your inner circle, to polite introductions to your father’s colleagues, to the ones who want a little something to get them through the night. You carry yourself with grace and good posture, more than any girl that he had ever met.

You’re the classiest little drug dealer he knows.

And like every deal, a transaction has to be completed. So he leans down to kiss you, holding you tightly by your waist to bring you closer to him. You’re so eager for him locking your fingers behind his neck, sighing sweetly that makes him reminisce of that night you had together. The plush of your lips takes him back to that night, back when you smelled more floral and warm, when he had found you lounging alone at the pool and bored from your father’s party.

Surprisingly you pull away from the kiss. “I like you Touya, c’mon we had so much fun together at my daddy’s party. Don’t you wanna have fun again?”

“I never said that I didn’t want to do it again.” Touya points out as he takes a seat on the piano bench, “It’s crossed my mind.”

You pout at him, the gloss from earlier kissed off slightly sticky on his lips instead. Carefully you wipe away the remnants of the gloss from his lips, smudging it on the pads of your fingers. “You’re so mean, you know that? Don’t you know to not make your plug mad?”

“Ah, how can I make it up to you, princess? Please oh please,” Touya wryly plays along with you, “what can I do to get back in your good graces?”

You hold out your hand to him, “Take a walk with me.”

Walking out hand in hand with you, he is led out of the piano room and allows you to take him to wherever it is you have in mind. You pass by one person that you give a subtle signal too, Touya observing how they make their way to the piano room with a key in hand. He wonders how much you’ve paid off certain workers inside the country club to help and protect you.

He admires that about you, not being afraid to exercise your power. Maybe it just comes with being a spoiled brat who can get her record wiped clean when she calls her daddy with crocodile tears. All this wealth at your disposal and the only thing that entertains you is being the unofficial country club girl scout for xannies, oxies, and other treats.

Touya is led to different halls throughout the club, some he recognizes more than others, but not as well as you do. These are your grounds after all. The caddy from before is seen talking to a group of gentlemen, the elders clearly enjoying conversation with him if the boisterous laughter and the friendly pats on his back are anything to go by. Hell, Touya’s father is apart of the group and even he looks to be amused from whatever quip the feathery haired young man doled out.

Keigo must sense your presence nearby as he immediately looks up to see you. You blow an air kiss to him and he pretends to catch it in his fist. Touya can swears that when he looked at you, you mouthed ‘love you’ to him as they passed by.

He doesn’t know much about Keigo, only that he was brought on by you and that he happens to be very charming with many people. Looks wise, he can see why you went for him but Touya hasn’t taken any personal interest to get to know the caddy.

People pass by and give you pleasant greetings, all of which you returned kindly but never paused to have a conversation. There’s excitement running through you as Touya follows behind, wondering where exactly you’re taking him. He can tell by how eager your pace is that gives it away. It’s precious, he enjoys it too much.

You want him that badly.

━━━━✧

Touya’s not sure how he’ll explain to his mother how his pants got so wrinkled, but it’s a thought that gets pushed out of his mind as he smothers you in a kiss. He’s trying to recall his last excuse when his mother questioned how he became so unkept. The answer isn’t quite coming to him; all he can recall is just the adrenaline he had afterwards from fucking you so good. Normally he’s very smooth with his words, lying easily to anyone when it pleases him, but he had gotten pussy drunk off of you and his brain just wasn’t operating the same.

You and that cunt of yours.

He’s almost upset that he’s been denying himself this entire time. There were plenty of nights recalled the sloppy kisses from you, the elegant way you crooked your finger to bring him to you, and when you pulled on the roots of his hair when he had eaten you out. Truthfully he had wanted to chase you just as much when the deed had been done. But as he’s got you on your knees for him, Touya remembers why he decided to not give into you so easily.

“Please Touya? Please, pretty please?”

It’s so sweet when you beg.

He remembers after coming down from the high that arrogant look on your face when he had helped zip your dress back up. That because he had shagged with you then he was surely to come at your beck and call. Instead of giving in, Touya decided that he’d like to see you chase after him. To have you be the one sending text messages or letting late night calls go unanswered, declining private invitations from you to keep you frustrated.

He still has all your voicemails of you breathless and needy, begging softly for him to just want you back.

Your voice is small and pitched, whiny almost as you pathetically tug at his belt as you sink to your knees. You’re practically drooling for it, eyeing his bulge and caressing it gently through the fabric. Christ, he really made you that in love with his cock. “Oh princess, don’t tell me you’ve been pining after me.” He coos over you and tilts your head up to look at him, “All this time?”

“Yes, god yes!” You admit and jut your lower lip in a pout, “I would wait around for you, hoping you’d answer me or even come visit! I’ve always been so nice to you Touya, and you just ignore me!”

It is the spoiled brat in you that’s making you act this way. You’re such a good girl, a nice girl, a pleasant and sweet and pretty girl that there shouldn’t be any reason to give you this awful treatment. That’s how you see it. That you’re the one who blessed Touya with the rare gift of giving him personal access to you so therefore, he should be grateful and be falling at your feet.

Touya has his own pride though.

“Is that darling caddy you’re so fond of not enough for you?”

“I adore Keigo, I love him,” you admit, “but I want you too.”

You want him desperately, slowly crumbling your pride as you beg softly for him. This is what Touya wanted from you. To see you throw a bit of dignity away just for him.

“Yeah? You mean that?” he asks you, using a single finger under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“Yes.”

He could probably ask anything of you in this moment if it meant that he’d give himself up to you. Something that you would find worth it for him to finally cure your ache. Admittedly one of his fantasies with you is to use one of your fancy lipsticks to draw the filthiest names on your body and take pictures for evidence. He wants to write slut at your tits, whore written in fat letters on your back, maybe even cumdump on your tummy with an arrow pointing down to your cunt. Touya wonders if that would be too much though.

He wants to demean you so bad, knock you off your high horse and make you look pathetic.

Yet there’s also some desire in him to cherish you too. You are the darling of this club, adored and revered and Touya falls into that crowd too. That it wouldn’t be so bad if you were to wear a dainty necklace with his initial, have you in his car for leisurely joy rides down by the coast, and go on those stupid fancy picnics that you posted on your instagram.

“Need you Touya, need you!” you whine, catching his hand and leaning your cheek into his palm. Aw look at you, trying to look sweet for him, giving him doe eyes and batting your lashes.

There’s some laughter outside, just a small group passing by the room you’ve locked yourselves in for privacy. There’s a little sign that you hung on the door handles: the art gallery is closed. Nearby is a sculpture of a nude woman, crafted by one of the local artists here and was in the club’s newsletter not too long ago. Touya glances to it, finding it beautiful and better in person than in the photo they had taken of it. Art is usually better to see in person anyway-

“Touya!”

You’re not on your knees anymore for him, standing to your feet and smoothing down your dress. Ah, you’re upset now—actually upset at him. “If you don’t want me, then just fucking go. You’ve been playing these games with me and I’m tired!” you huff and try to pick up your heels that you discarded onto the floor when you had locked up the room, “Keep the stuff I gave you, I still won’t charge you for today.”

His hand goes to your wrist and he’s pulling you back to him, wrapping you up in a hug as he hushes you, “Don’t be so upset, it’s not a good look for you.”

“Well I wouldn’t be if you would just look at me!” you almost cry, sinking into his body and making a small noise when he hugs you tighter. “Everyone else wants me, why don’t you? Don’t you want me?”

It surprises him how genuine you’re being. You can’t be this upset, can you?

It makes Touya happy that he can make you this way.

“Never said that I didn’t, princess.” he admits finally, “I like you back, is that all you need to hear?”

He’s given a little nod, feeling your hand press at his bulge again. Your hand caresses his cock through his slacks and you sigh a little, slightly tilting your head up and nosing along his jawline. Touya bites down the smug smile that wants to sprout up on his face—this is how he wanted you, on his terms and not on yours. So now that he’s got you right where he wants you…

“Ow!” you cry out when Touya roughly grabs a handful of your hair right at the root, pulling you just enough to make you look up at him. He holds tightly and coos over your shocked expression, your wide eyes looking up at him with a small sense of betrayal. How could he switch up on you so fast like that? “T-Touya..!”

You pout up at him, your lips tempting him to kiss you.

“You’re not the good girl you make yourself out to be. Like you got everyone wrapped around your little finger, huh?” Touya speaks haughtily, his grip flexing slightly and tugging slightly on the roots of your hair, “Good girls don’t sell drugs out of a piano bench and fuck around with the piss poor caddy that’s so popular around here.”

“Maybe not other girls,” you hiss through your teeth, “but I can.”

You can do whatever you want, it’s how you lived your life. If there are any rules you’ve broken, you’ve always been very good to take care of it yourself mostly. Look at how you flout about, walking around with your pretty heels and waving the help over with darling manicured hands, discreetly handing cash and speaking with the sweetest lilt to get people to do what you please.

Touya snorts, but he does admire you all the same. If he had more drive to do anything, he’d probably be working under you too.

But he hates being inside this stupid country club, which is where you typically are when you’re not traveling or with your own gaggle of friends. This is where you like to work after all, and will be yours to run once your dear daddy passes.

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” Touya sighs out before leaning down to kiss you. He’s unexpectedly soft considering the tight grip he still has on you, slotting his lips against yours too intimately for someone who also wants to ruin you all the same. It’s a long kiss he gives you, that it even gets the butterflies fluttering inside of his chest.

He pulls back and releases the hold he had on your hair, twirling his finger in a circle to indicate for you to turn around. You present your back to him, getting flashbacks to when Touya had first undressed you. His fingers are cold as he fiddles with the zipper at the back and pulls it down slowly. The dress loosens from your body and you shrug off the thin straps. It falls to the floor in a pool surrounding your feet, and you’re left standing in a little cotton panty that’s lined with lace. Your nipples are perked due to the chill of the room but you don’t bother to cover yourself to retain some modesty.

You’ve been wanting to be like this in front of Touya for the longest time.

You’re given another wordless command, blue eyes briefly glancing down to the hardwood floor. Kicking your dress off to the side, you kneel down in front of Touya once more and watch as he unzips his slacks and pulls his cock through the opening. Your mouth practically waters upon seeing his dick again, so thick and with the prettiest color at the tip you had seen. You’re about to go in when he stops you with a simple little tut.

Glancing up at him, you wonder what he could possibly have to say.

“Don’t get too sloppy, can’t walk out of here with fucking drool stains on my crotch.”

Touya hopes to fuck you in his bed one day, have you squirt on his sheets, and then cum all over your face. But while the two of you are here, the two of you have to be able to come out look presentable. He can’t go as wild as he wants on but he fucking swears that he’s gonna make you fucked out by him one of these days.

You nod in understanding before swallowing his cock into your throat. There’s some dreamy sigh from you as you bob up and down on his cock; you really must have been aching for this. There’s enthusiasm as you swallow all his inches, looking up at Touya and going all doe eyed for him. See how much you wanted him?

He admires your small gags, the way your body lurches when you choke deeply on his cock, but he reminds you again to try to keep your drool from getting on him. Touya wants to fuck your face, he wants to make you cry from fucking your mouth too hard, and even slap your cheek. There’s so much he wants to do but this isn’t the time or place to do any of it.

You’d be pissed off too if he even attempted.

You pull off his cock, a line of drool connecting your lips to his cock still but it gets wiped away quickly by the back of your hand.

Touya grabs your wrist to bring you to your feet, pulling you to the nearest wall to fuck you against. Your hands brace the flat surface, grunting when Touya uses one hand to jut your ass back to him and the other presses your head to the wall. With your back arched, he admires your elegant form under the soft lighting of the art gallery. The lovely still life painting of a bouquet does not compare to how fucking beautiful you are in this moment.

He can’t wait until he can ruin you to tears.

He offers his fingers to your lips, your mouth obediently dropping to lick and spit on them. It tickles a little with the way your tongue drags along his fingers but he doesn’t allow it for long. Touya only needs just enough to finger your hole, even spitting on his own fingers before he does a careful but quick prep after pulling down your panties.

“Oh god… oh fuck…” you mutter, your eyes shutting as relishing in his touch, “Fuck me please!”

“Relax.” Touya is firm in his tone, acting cool and masking the equal desperation that is surging throughout his own body. He wonders if you notice how eager his fingers are to be inside you, biting his lip to force down the wolffish smile on his face when he feels how wet you are. All that teasing before that he had done to you was worth it.

It was worth all of it to lead up to this moment.

His fingers withdraw and he sucks on them, savoring the taste of your slick along his tongue. Touya recalls how he ate you out at your father’s birthday party, driving you wild with his tongue on your clit and the sweet noises you made. It would be nice to do it again.

Your body shudders a little as the head of Touya’s cock nudges against your pussy, a sharp little breath sucked in as the first few inches sink into you. “Fuck!” you quietly curse.

Touya would like to savor this, to take his time and work you up into a sloppy, pretty little mess. To finger your clit until you cry out of frustration and then choke you if you give him an attitude. There’s so many things that he wishes he could do in this moment. But you remind him—

“Please hurry, we can’t be in here for long.”

Because you’ve got people waiting for you. People waiting to eagerly meet you, whether at your piano bench or if you’re needed somewhere else to help maintain your father’s appearance. No matter how much Touya has this vision of what he wants, he knows that he truly can not have you in his own way.

But he’s grateful to get you anyway.

He thrusts in, sinking in smoothly but with a sharp clap of his body meeting yours. Your pussy tightens up on him from the brief shock that is also coupled with a small gasp. His hands grasp your hips tightly and he pounds away at you, noticing how you help with the motion by moving back into him as well. It’s quiet inside the art gallery so all Touya can hear is you and the sound of his skin slapping against yours as he fucks hard into you.

“T-Touya!”

It’s just as sweet as the first time, observing how you occasionally look over your shoulder at him and give him sweet doe eyes again. But this time they’re glazed over, your eyelids dropping as you get lost in the pleasure, relishing in everything that you had been waiting for. Touya wonders how many nights you spent fingering yourself to him, he imagines your embarrassment when he would leave your needy voicemails or nudes in his inbox unanswered, and he dreamt more than a few times of you riding that pretty boy caddy in front of him.

I want to fuck you again.

Those words almost slip out as he reaches a hand to finger your clit. Your knees buckle but you maintain yourself, your own little sounds struggling to be kept in. Touya can feel it already, he can feel you just about ready to snap if the way your cunt is clenching around him is any indicator of anything.

“Please cum, please cum!” you desperately whisper, “Please cum in me!”

I need to fuck you again.

Touya fucks harder to get himself to cum, looking down to see that you’ve creamed all over him. He’s grateful that he pushed his pants down enough so that none of it catches onto his clothes. It’d be nice if you could clean up his cock with your mouth after he cums in you, but you’ve got to come out looking as proper as you can be.

So no hair pulling, no spitting in your mouth, no crying to ruin your makeup, and no marks are to be left.

But if you’re going to beg him to cum in you, you should be able to accommodate a reasonable request.

Touya leans over, feeling his control ready to let go as he’s about ready to burst as he mutters in your ear, “Keep my cum in you, keep me inside you.”

His words have your eyes rolling back, answering him with a jittery nod and a sweet yes hissed into the air. “Yes, fuck yes!”

I am going to fuck you again.

Touya jolts into you one last time, pressing himself so deep that you whine his name. He’s emptying himself into you, spilling cum into that delicious cunt of yours. He chances putting a hand at your throat to choke you, his fingers careful at your windpipe and peering down at you as your orgasm wipes your mind blank and has you going limp that he has to catch you.

And then there’s silence.

He’s holding your body against him, carrying your weight as your mind tries to start back up again. Touya drinks in this moment because he knows he won’t get a repeat of this. He may never get the upper hand again now that he’s given you what you’ve been aching for.

He wants to keep coming back not to just buy off you, but to keep seeing you.

“Good, Touya?” you manage to find your voice and lean back against him, patting your hand against his arms that are still holding you tightly.

“The best.” He answers

You chuckle, nodding your head and still remaining in his hold with his cock in you. He wonders why you haven’t bothered to start making yourself proper—

The door to the art gallery unlocks and it has Touya jolting. All the curse words he knows flash in succession in his mind but you pat your hand against him. “It’s okay, it’s Keigo.”

Sure enough, it is.

The pretty caddy with blond hair is approaching the two of you with two small towels in hand. Had he been waiting outside the entire time?

Touya wonders if every move you’ve made has been calculated. Did you know for sure that he would finally fuck you today after keeping you waiting for so long? And to have your favorite toy waiting on hand to clean you up as well?

He takes the offered towel from Keigo but doesn’t offer a thanks. Touya wipes off the remnants of you off his cock, throwing the towel over his shoulder as he pulls his pants back up. His belt buckle clinks as he makes himself presentable.

“Can we stay and talk for a little Keigo?” you ask leisurely as the caddy places the towel over a wooden bench for you to sit on. You’re smoothing down your hair as you sit down, Keigo kneeling down on one knee to massage your calves. Your dress and heels still lay discarded as you appear to take your time getting ready to leave.

“Just for a little, okay? Hana is looking for you—“ Keigo informs you and laughs a little as you groan at the name. It seems he has the sense to not continue the sentence.

Touya is dressed, his pants not as wrinkled as he hoped they would be. Rei will probably take notice like she did last time but this time, he has enough clarity to give an answer that he knows his mother will not believe but does not have any backbone to question.

He supposes that he should go out there.

He’s got what he wanted anyway.

“See ya princess.”

“I’ll see you out there Touya.” You call to him just as he’s out the door.

Stopping by a restroom first, he puts himself in the privacy of a stall after locking the door. He retrieves the dime bag and admires the scaling of the cocaine inside the plastic. He fishes out a key from his wallet, using the tip of it dip into the bag. He inhales a sizable bump into each nostril, wiping his nose clean before flushing the toilet for the sake of seeming as if he had used the facilities.

He joins Natsuo and Fuyumi, the weed pen offered to him as well but he declines. Just a little further down, Shouto is with two boys that he seems to have made friends with. One of them is blond and huffing his chest while the other has hair the color of an evergreen tree and seems to be the mediator of whatever fuss is going on.

Touya leans back into his seat, just a touch more awake as he tastes the drip at the back of his throat.

━━━━✧

It’s a relief when it’s finally time to leave.

Enji and Rei are side by side, she’s holding onto his arm for balance, teetering slightly to the right but is corrected by her husband as he helps her into the car. Shouto is waving his friends goodbye before going along to Fuyumi’s side. She asks him if she had fun and he answers yes. She is no longer high but Natsuo takes a small hit of the pen one last time to tolerate the car ride.

Touya is about ready to take his place inside the car when he hears his name. He looks back to see you walking towards him and he decides to walk to you so that none of his family eavesdrops.

“Thank you for seeing me today, I really enjoyed your company.” you speak with a bubbly lilt and your smile more pleasant than usual. Of course you’re happy—you and Touya finally fucked again.

“Thanks for having me.” Touya responds a little flatter than he intended to, just trying to keep his family off his tail so that they don’t ask questions.

“Text me later.”

It’s not framed as a hopeful question; you’re telling him to text you.

“I will.”

He means it.

No more ignoring or being coy, not anymore since you got what you wanted and Touya knows that he’s given up the power to you. It was nice to briefly wield it but he knows in the end that you are the one to hold all the cards and have things aligned with how you want them.

Touya avoids his father’s gaze as he gets into the car. He leans back into his seat at the very back of the car, crossing his arms over his chest and feeling the buzz of the coke starting to wind down. He chances looking back and you’ve hung around in your same spot, appearing to see him off.

The windows are tinted and he’s sure that you can’t see him through the glass but you wave anyway, as if knowing that he’s looking at you. He resists waving back.

And as the car starts, someone joins you. Wearing all black and with slightly unkempt white hair, Touya recognizes your foster brother. He’s only seen Tomura around a handful of times—unlike you that leaves a trail to be found, he’s a bit elusive.

The car starts to pull away, Touya watches from his seat as your foster brother leans down to you. One would think that he just leaned down to kiss your cheek but he swears that it was a kiss on the lips. It was hard to tell when enough distance had blurred the interaction.

Not that it matters to him anyway.

Later that night, Touya does as promised and he texts you. All the previous messages in his inbox from you were one sided but now he’ll be expected to reach out to you. Maybe you can meet him at a different place occasionally, take you for a ride in his white mustang or share a sorbet with you in the downtown area.

He knows that he will have to meet you more often at the country club though—it is where you work after all.

Touya hates the country club but he’s only ever gone to have a chance to see you.

[dark-mnjiro]

[run] for your life :: michael kaiser & alexis ness

Author’s Note: welcome to week two of Kinktober 2023. I’m going to apologize in advanced for this one. I don’t know how we got here but…. Yeah. Enjoy!

Content Warnings: kaiser x afab!reader x ness, explicit sexual content, explicit language, primal play, predator/prey, captive/kidnapping, voyeurism, dubcon, cnc, dom/sub, chasing, threesome, established relationship, chase sequence, rough sex, blowjobs, choking, hair pulling, spanking, degradation, brat behavior/brat taming, name calling, slut shaming, minor yandere!ness, kaiser x ness if you squint, dirty talk, doggystyle, face fucking, breeding, unsafe sex, throat bulge, aftercare, overall - this is dark content. Please be VERY aware of the trigger warning. I hope I covered everything

“Run.”

Your eyes filled with horror at his tone. His blue-eyed gaze fixated on you. “M-Michael?”

“If I find you,” he commented. “You won’t like what happens.” He pulled on black gloves over his hands, adjusting the fingers. “I won’t tell you again, run.”

Swallowing, you quickly turned from him as you took off into the dark forest. What kind of sick game was Kaiser playing with you now? Did you finally take things too far with your bratty responses during his away games? Was it because you showed up at a game wearing a Lorenzo jersey when he played against the Ubers? Sure, you knew Kaiser had certain sexual tastes that only seemed to fuel some more bratty behaviors on your behalf, but this… This was more than what you had maybe bargained for… You didn’t have time to contemplate what was on Kaiser’s mind when he forced you into the car and drove you to the middle of nowhere.

Now, you were stripped down to nothing but your undergarments at his orders, running through a thick forest. Sweat was causing the dirt to stick to your skin.

“Run faster,” you could hear him yelling in the distance.

Cursing to yourself, you almost hated that you were dating a professional athlete. It seemed inhuman that he was this quick to close in on you. “Fucker,” you grumbled before ducking behind a tree trunk.

How long had you been running from him at this point? It felt like your chest was on fire…

“Little mouse,” he growled.

He was nearby.

Your body froze as you tried to push your body as far against the tree as you could. Biting hard on your lip, you tried to steady your breathing but failed so you covered your mouth with your hand. You just had to be quiet long enough for Kaiser to pass… Hopefully, he would not notice you.

“Little mouse,” he repeated, his voice with the same dominance as before. “Come out for me…”

The tone of his voice sent chills down your spine and immediately you felt heat pooling in between your legs. Your body tensed, this was not the time to fall victim to his commanding tone.

His footsteps began to fade into the distance as you finally let go of the breath you were holding.

“Oh my god,” you murmured before taking off in the opposite direction that Kaiser seemingly disappeared. You weren’t sure how you managed to escape him, or if he was merely toying with you, but you didn’t have time to think about that now.

You stopped for a moment, straining your ears before hearing what sounded like a few cars driving by in the distance. A road, you thought. There had to be one nearby if you could hear cars this easily.

Relief washed over you as you managed to make your way through the forest and find the road. You looked up and down the expanse of the pavement before noticing red lights in the distance. A car?

“They’ll probably think I’m a psycho looking like this,” you mumbled to yourself as you hugged yourself. You were covered in dirt from head to toe, wearing nothing but your bra and underwear which were equally as dirty now. Maybe if you explained to the owner of the vehicle that you just needed a ride back to Kaiser’s car and that you were both just messing with each other…

This game would surely end…? Right?

“...excuse me?”

You couldn’t see his entire face due to the hood he had pulled over his head that seemed to hide some of his features but his worried eyes widened upon seeing your state.

“I apologize, but my partner and I got separated… we were playing some jokes on each other and I could use a ride back to his car if you could take me?”

“Of course.”

A sigh of relief fell from your lips as you heard the click of his car doors unlocked. “I was just changing my tire, and had a flat.”

You climbed into the passenger side of the car before letting your shoulders relax. Your savior shut the door for you before sliding into the driver’s side and turning the key. The engine was a welcomed sound before you felt the gear shift into drive and the car move.

Your head rested against the glass. “Thank you again,” you whispered before your eyes began focusing on the road. “And I apologize for my appearance… we were sleeping and there was this noise-”

“…it’s not nice to lie, you know.”

Furrowing your brows, you turned to glance at the driver. How could he have possibly known you were lying without any evidence?

“You should be wary of strangers on the roadside…”

This time he spoke louder as your gaze adjusted to the sunlight from the dashboard against his face. Your stomach fell as the realization that you knew exactly who this was.

“…Ness?”

His lips curled into a smirk. You scrambled to grab the door handle but heard him tumbling.

“Oh no no no,” he commented. “Try that all you want but… we have to thank child-proof locks for bad girls like you.”

“Ness… I-”

The car came to a stop before you could finish your sentence. You turned to look out the window and found he had parked outside a small cabin in the woods. Confusion filled your eyes as you turned to face Ness again. Why on earth was he here… unless…

He tilted his head innocently before the dangerous glint in his eyes became more evident. “I would do anything Kaiser asked me to, especially when I get a reward in return-”

You felt your spine stiffen. Reward?

“Ness this is fucked up! Let me go! Michael is crazy, I just want to go home!”

Ness wagged a finger at you. “Nuh-uh,” he whispered, leaning in close.

You tried to distance yourself from him by pressing your back against the car door. Your hands shot up, pushing against his chest to try to keep him at bay. But, of course, Ness was also a professional athlete and his strength greatly outmatched your own. His hands encircled around your wrists.

“I’ve always admired how pretty you are,” he whispered, bringing your wrist to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against your skin. “Kaiser promised, you know… if I helped catch you - I could have you too.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“You’re shaking,” he cooed. “Is something wrong?”

You swallowed thickly before trying to tug your wrists free of his grasp. While you and Kaiser had your rules when it came to some of your more perverse tastes - inviting Ness was never a part of the conversation. Was Kaiser mad?

His lips pressed against your neck, sucking on the flesh lightly before grazing his teeth. It was enough to snap you back to reality as it sent a pleasurable sensation pulsating throughout your body.

“N-Ness…”

“Shhh,” he cooed as his tongue lapped against the shell of your ear. “It’s Alexis here…”

Your thighs pressed together as a jolt of pleasure struck you at your core.

He tutted again using his free hand to spread your legs apart. “None of that,” he said before his hand snuck into your underwear. His fingers managed to find their way to your clit before rubbing soft circles and earning a moan from you.

Ness sucked on your neck again, causing another moan as you slowly glanced over at him. Excitement was beginning to pool between your legs as his pace quickened. How was this even happening? Why weren’t you trying to fight back?

“Ness,” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand.

He bit your neck. “Alexis…” he corrected.

“Ah-Alexis,” you cried out. “I’m sorry…”

“Sweet girl,” he said before removing his fingers from your underwear. His fingers slipped into your mouth, forcing a small gag before your tongue desperately tried to clean your juices off of his digits. “So desperate, huh? You’re soaking right through your underwear… guess we should just get rid of those…”

Ness removed his fingers from your mouth, allowing himself to slip off your underwear. “Open your mouth,” he said gently. “And close your eyes…”

You weren’t sure why you obliged his request but your mouth fell open as your eyes slipped shut. He was quick as he stuffed your underwear into your mouth and the car door opened.

Your eyes shot open as you found Kaiser at the passenger side door. He quickly snatched your wrists before you could react and drug you out of the car. You tugged against his grip, trying to scream but was muffled thanks to your underwear.

“Little, fucking slut,” he growled. “Were you going to cum for him? Letting me watch?!”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as Kaiser threw open the door to the cabin. Another muffled cry tried to escape but Kaiser practically threw you to the floor. He stepped inside with Ness following as Ness locked the door behind him.

You managed to pull the makeshift gag from your mouth, tossing the article of clothing aside as you flared up at your boyfriend. “What the fuck Michael!”

He kneeled, his face getting dangerously close to your own before snatching your chin in his fingers. “I see how you look at Ness and bat those pretty, little eyes,” he hissed.

“I want to go home!” you snapped at him before jerking your face away. “This is fucked up. Even for you!”

Ness stood behind Kaiser now, tilting his head. “You don’t want to spend time with us? With me?” He sounded like he was practically whining.

“I just want to go home…” you hissed.

“You’re not going home until I’ve ruined you,” Kaiser said, grabbing your face and forcing you to focus on him.

Your eyes narrowed before spitting in his face. “Fuck you!”

The spit landed on his cheek before he casually wiped it away with his thumb snatched a fistful of your hair and tugged it back, earning a cry of pain from you.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson about being respectful, you little bitch,” Kaiser snapped and before you knew it, his body towered over yours, holding you in place. “Bind her hands, Ness…”

Ness grabbed a hold of your arms before using a rope and binding your hands together. “Just be a good girl,” he cooed. “Just listen to him…”

Kaiser pressed his weight against your hips when he noticed your legs flailing. “Stop struggling,” he growled.

“Untie me!”

He grabbed your face again. “That’s not how we get things we want,” he hissed. “I think it’s time we fuck this attitude right out of you.”

Your eyes narrowed before Kaiser raised and helped you back to your feet and dragged you toward a couch in the center of the room. Ness took a seat on the couch as Kaiser bent you over the armrest.

“Ness please,” you managed to say. “Just untie me…”

His hand encircled around your throat. “Stop defying Kaiser,” he hissed, causing you to wince. His grip tightened, forcing your mouth to open to allow easier airflow but instead, you heard the rustling of his pants being pushed down and his erection springing forward, smacking your cheek. His opposite hand grabbed the base of his cock, before pushing his length into your mouth.

Your eyes widened as you tried to pull back but his hand left your throat to instead rest on the back of your head, grasping a fistful of hair. You felt his hips buck, forcing his cock further into your mouth as his tip kissed the back of your throat. Gagging, you felt saliva building up in your mouth, earning a groan from Ness.

“That’s it, Ness,” Kaiser said before his hand collided with your bare ass. “Make the bitch choke…”

Tears brimmed at the corner of your eyes as Ness continued to thrust into your mouth. You could hear Kaiser behind you undressing. You could hear Kaiser chuckling from behind you before his hands spread your legs apart.

“See what happens when you listen to me, Ness?” Kaiser almost purred. “You get a reward like this…”

Ness groaned before thrusting further into your out as Kaiser kneeled behind you spitting on your clit. A whine bubbles from your throat, making Ness moan again. Kaiser’s calloused thumb brushed against your clit causing your body to squirm.

“That’s it…” Kaiser whispered. “Look how wet you already are… Do you enjoy choking on Ness’s cock like that?”

You managed to pull away and glare at Kaiser over your shoulder. “No!”

“I think we’ve been too nice to you,” he said before smacking your ass again.

You hissed in pain until you felt Ness shift on the couch so that he was kneeling in front of you. You looked up at Ness again. His gaze darkened, fueled by desire. He pushed his length back into your mouth, earning another gag as you grappled for his thighs to stabilize yourself.

Meanwhile, Kaiser had planted himself between your legs as his tongue slipped inside of your cunt. Whimpering, you made a feeble attempt to move your hips forward and away from him. He smacked your ass again before snatching up your hair, tugging your head back.

“Don’t. Move.”

You whimpered again as you felt Ness push his length further into your mouth - his tip now teasing the back of your throat with each thrust.

“Look at those pretty tears…” he commented.

You managed to shoot him a glare through bleary eyes before ripping away from his cock to cry out at Kaiser’s sudden intrusion. “Asshole!”

He tugged on your hair again, causing you to wince. Kaiser merely groaned as his length pushed into you. His girth alone always made you struggle but from this angle… you were going crazy.

His hand let go of your hair before wrapping around your throat. He offered a harsh, but shallow thrust as he leaned over to your ear. “We won’t stop no matter how much you cry… beg… plead,” he hissed. “We won’t stop filling you up until your fucked stupid…”

His grip tightened around your throat as Ness slipped his cock back into your mouth. Kaiser glanced up at Ness. “Down her throat,” he ordered. “I want to feel it in her throat.”

You could feel a gag building up in your throat as Ness pushed the length of his cock as far as he could. Kaiser’s grip only tightened around your neck making it even harder to breathe. “Fuck Ness,” he growled. “I can feel it down my pretty girl’s throat…

“Y-Yes, Kaiser,” Ness managed to say as his body shuddered with pleasure.

“That's it, Ness,” Kaiser whispered, as Ness began thrusting slowly in and out of your throat. Every so often, Ness seemingly pulled out enough to give you a break and get a breath of air… but would immediately push his length back into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back, unsure how much longer you were going to last before Kaiser thrust into you. A desperate groan vibrated in your throat with each thrust. His movements were slow at first, matching Ness’s pace. But you knew that Kaiser couldn’t last at that pace for long…

He slapped your ass before quickening his pace again, making sure to keep a hand around your throat. “Little fucking cum dump,” he growled. “Look at you taking us both…” His insults sent shivers down your spine. You were sure how much longer you were going to last as his pace quickened. Ness watched Kaiser’s movements, deciding to keep up with him. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat again, earning him to moan out your name.

“That’s it, Ness. Are you going to shoot your load down this pretty throat?” Kaiser hissed.

Ness whimpered in response as his hips stuttered and your nose pressed against his abdomen. You could feel the head of his cock slip down your throat before he came. The hot, sticky substance filled your throat, causing you to gag momentarily as Ness slowly pulled out, panting.

His wild eyes caught your exhausted gaze before pressing his lips against yours. A small whine escaped your throat as his tongue forced itself into your mouth before savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

“What a good job Ness…” Kaiser said, darkly. “You ready sweet girl?”

Ness swallowed another whine as you felt Kaiser increase his pace again. Your focus was fading as Kaiser’s grip around your neck tightened.

“Are you our little cum dump?”

You pulled away from Ness panting, desperately trying to find your words.

“I said…” Kaiser hissed. “Are you our little cum dump?”

His pace was unbearable now as his other free hand came to slip between your legs and rubbing rough circles on your clit. A gasp fell from your lips as your hips bucked at the added sensation.

“M-Michael!”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You whined in response.

“Answer properly,” he growled as his hips snapped forward even harder. You gasped again feeling the tip of his cock kissing your cervix now. “I’m waiting.”

“I’m your little cum dump!”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could try to gather your senses. Kaiser chuckled before finally letting go of your throat. His hand moved to steady your body, gripping your hip now.

“Are you sorry for being such an insufferable brat this past week?”

“Y-yes sir!”

“Did I give you more attention than what you deserved?”

“Yes sir!”

“Fuck!” Kaiser groaned. “You’re fucking clenching… you fucking love this don’t you? Fucking slut.”

Your eyes rolled back as your cries of pleasure tumbled from your mouth. He was right… you did love this… being degraded… like dirt.

“Michael,” you managed to get out. “Please let me cum!”

“Cum for me dirty girl…”

His hand collided against your ass as his thrusts became erratic. A coil in your gut was wounding tighter. You were so close. Your bleary eyes looked up at Ness before he planted another rough kiss. You desperately kissed him back as your tongue shot into Ness’s mouth, the intimacy alone finally sending you over the edge as you felt pleasure over your body.

“Fuck baby,” Kaiser groaned as he rode out your high. His arms quickly moved to wrap around your waist to keep you steady as your body shuddered. He moaned your name a few more times before hissing as he released inside of you. “…that’s my girl.”

Kaiser motioned for Ness to move before gently laying you back on the couch. He leaned over you and smiled. “Good job,” he whispered before planting a kiss on your temple. “Need anything?”

You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes as a tired smile curled over your lips. “No…”

“Ness is going to get a bath started for you. I’m getting you some water,” he commented. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “When can we do this again?”

Kaiser smirked. “Time and place little mouse,” he teased. “I love playing cat and mouse with you. Now I’m going to get that water.”

You nodded before your eyes slipped shut.

[ereardon]

Homecoming [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter 2

Summary: Returning home to California after six years abroad in England, you found everything has changed. Jake Seresin, your father's former college roommate and lifelong best friend, is now a widower and has purchased a new vineyard in Montecito, only a few miles from your childhood home. Your parents’ marriage is on the rocks, your brother is struggling with what to do with his life, and you’ve grown up and are starting your own counseling practice. So what happens when you find yourself falling for the man your father calls his best friend? And worse, what happens when your parents find out he’s falling for you, too? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Age gap, eventual smut, cursing, alcohol

Word count: 2.2 K

Chapter overview: Y/N starts her first day at work at Jake's vineyard

Author's note: This fic references a significant age gap, as reader is the child of Jake's best friend. However, she's in her mid-twenties, and he's been only a small part of her life to this point as he spent the majority of his time traveling with his late wife. This fic does not depict grooming, but if you are concerned with any of the themes please read at your own risk.

Masterlist here

Colin, despite being eleven months and five days older than you, was your first patient. Although neither of you realized it at the time.

You remembered it clearly. The two of you sitting on the edge of the pool, toes swinging in the water, the sun glinting off the surface and bursting into a million shards of light across the tile bottom. 

“I’m mad,” he said. 

You looked over but his eyes were trained on his feet, thrashing in the chlorinated pool. “Why?” you asked. 

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“Is it because of mom?” you asked. Another head shake. “Is it dad?” There was a pause. You sensed a shift in his demeanor, even at eight years old. You pushed. “He thinks you’ll like it. Make friends.” 

Colin turned to you, his shaggy hair covering one eye. “I have friends.” 

“I don’t count.” 

“You might like it,” you whispered. “Camp is fun.” 

“Cowboy camp,” he replied, frowning. 

“Horses are cool.” 

“You think that because you’re a girl.” 

Your eyebrows knitted together. “At least dad is letting you go to camp.” You pulled your legs out of the water. “He won’t even let me out of his sight.” 

Colin’s small shoulders sagged. “That’s because he loves you more.” 

Your mouth dropped open, but nothing came out. Just air, filling your lungs, mounting so much pressure in your chest you were scared to let it out, lest you collapse. Colin’s back stayed turned away from you. 

And then it was over. And you went inside, wet legs sticking to the edges of your capri pants. 

***

“What do I wear?” you asked your mom, standing in front of your open closet. Everything in it felt wrong. The dresses you wore to the nightclubs in Berlin, the jeans that spent nights at the pub, your old high school wardrobe that was seriously dated. God, you needed new clothes. Something that said young professional, but not in a sad way.

“I have no idea, dear.” Your mother picked up a lace thong that you had tossed on the bed and frowned. “I’ve never been to the vineyard.” 

“What?” You swiveled around. “You’re kidding.” 

“Your father is the one who goes,” she replied with a shrug. “He and Jake have always been closer.” 

It was true. Jake and your father had been college roommates at USC, randomly paired together freshman year. They couldn’t have been more different, but somehow they made it work. 

You grabbed a blue dress with a tie in the middle and turned back toward your mother. There was something about her gaze, the way she was looking out the window. “Mom?” you asked. “Everything OK?” 

“Of course,” she replied instantly, but her voice caught at the end, a small lift that set off a warning sign in the back of your brain. 

You frowned. “Alright. Well, I’ll see you guys tonight at dinner?” 

She stood up, smoothing her hands over her linen pants. “Have a good first day.” 

You turned toward the mirror, angling the dress over your body before tossing it on the bed. You couldn’t afford to fuck this up. It wasn’t just that you owed it to Jake. You owed it to yourself to show up and prove that you could be successful outside of an academic environment. 

***

Thirty minutes later, you stepped through the vineyard doors. The sound of your heeled boots echoed in the vast entryway. “Jake?” 

“Sparky.” Jake appeared from your left, wiping his hands on a towel that he then slung over his shoulder. You breathed a sigh of relief. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a loosely buttoned shirt, a pair of loafers rounding out the look. You sent up a silent prayer that you had also worn jeans, albeit a tight pair with a slight flare, and a silk sleeveless turtleneck. “Ready to meet the crew?” 

You nodded. Jake spent the next hour introducing you to everyone, from the waitstaff for the tasting room to the food engineers helping to bottle and test the wine, and the farmer he had on staff to cultivate the small garden where they grew fresh vegetables to include in charcuterie plates. 

“Your job is to be the puppet master,” Jake said as the two of you emerged back onto the main floor. “There’s two hostesses. If they’re both gone, you can man the front table. At the end of the day, you and I will sit down and look at the books and go over how things went and where we need to make changes.” 

A silent scream rose in your throat. This was too laissez faire for your taste. You needed rules, regime. 

Jake grinned, putting one hand on your upper arm. His touch was warm, inviting. Once again, you looked down at his bare ring finger and felt a longing for Jenny. “You’ll do great,” he said. “Trust me, you’ll know what to do. It’s intuitive.” 

“Where will you be?” you asked. “If I need you.” 

“You won’t need me,” Jake asserted. “But if you do, I’m around.” 

“Helpful.” 

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you talk to all your bosses?” 

You flushed. “Oh my God, I’m sorry, I didn’t even–”

He laughed. “It’s OK, Y/N. I know it’s a weird dynamic, because we know each other. I don’t expect you to call me Mr. Seresin or anything like that. I trust you, and that’s why I’m giving you free reign of the place.” 

The blush was still inching down your neck. You nodded, gulping. Jake reached out, squeezing your upper arm gently. “I’ll be in my office, alright?” 

Jake disappeared down the staircase and you swiveled around, nerves worming their way through your body. Just as you were about to flee into a corner, the doors swung open and a young couple stepped up to the podium. 

“Hi, we’re the Kellers,” the woman said. “We had a one o’clock reservation?” 

Jake and Amy, the host, had shown you how to use the tablet. Your fingers shook as you pressed buttons on the screen, pulling up the reservation, a sigh of relief bubbling in your throat as you found their names. Ethan and Whitney Keller. 

They sounded as white as they looked. 

You looked up, smiling. “Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Keller. If you’ll please follow me.” 

Jake had been right. A part of you cursed him a little. It came naturally. Floating around, asking people how they were, chatting lightly about the wine. All those years in Europe had done nothing if not given you a taste for alcohol. 

Plus, you liked talking to people. You always had. You listened and gave them thoughtful responses. You could read people – if there was tension, if someone in a group felt left out, if they wanted to be left alone. 

It was almost like therapy. With wine. For a split second you wondered if you could get a liquor license for your clinic before realizing that was an insane thought. 

At the end of the day, once all the tables were wiped and the floor was mopped, the wine was put away and the rest of the staff had gone home, you found yourself outside on the bench at the edge of the patio, overlooking the vineyards, a small tree above you gently blocking the setting sun. 

“Can I join you?” 

You turned just as Jake slid into the spot next to you on the bench. 

“You were amazing,” Jake said. 

A blush crept up around your cheeks. “Thank you.” 

He threaded one arm against the back of the bench, behind your head and shoulders. It was casual, not cloying or weird at all. His scent, that familiar crushed stone fruit smell, wafted over you as the soft breeze carried your scents together, melding them in the air. 

“Do you have dinner plans?” 

You thought about your parents, sitting at home in the Spanish Villa they had built when you were three. About Colin, who you still had barely seen since you returned from London. 

“I’m free.” 

“Good.” Jake stood up and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’ll make you dinner. Hugo will be excited to see you. And we can taste the new crop of wine.” 

As you watched Jake walk back up the hill toward the building, a strange sensation built in your stomach. For the first time ever, you realized that Jake Seresin was more than just a family friend. 

***

“It’s hot.” 

“Ow, ow, ow!” 

Jake laughed as you let your mouth hang open, pasta tumbling back onto the plate. You closed your mouth, wiping it with a napkin. “OK, ew, sorry you had to see that.” 

“I warned you,” he replied, twirling a fork in his bowl of creamy vodka pasta. “You just don’t listen. You never have.” 

“That’s not fair,” you said, breaking off a piece of bread and sliding your hand down to your thigh, feeding Hugo under the table. He greedily chomped at the bread, and you wiped your fingertips on your thigh. 

“I saw that,” Jake countered and you laughed. “Don’t spoil him too much or he’s going to stop liking me and he’ll only want you.” 

“That’s the plan,” you replied, patting the Golden’s head. 

Talking to Jake was easy. It wasn’t until the two of you sat down to dinner that you realized in all the years you had known him, Jake and Jenny flitting in and out of your life as they returned or started a new global trek, you had only limited interactions with Jake. 

Before taking the job at the vineyard, you had only one distinct memory of Jake Seresin. On your nineteenth birthday, right before you left for London after your gap year, Jake and Jenny had been staying at your parent’s house. After dinner, as everyone sat around with glasses of champagne, Jake handed you a gift, wrapped in silver paper. 

Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a pearl dangling off the edge. You looked up in surprise. 

He smiled. “I saw it when we were in Vietnam and had to get it for you.” 

After dinner, as Jake cleared the table and you sat on the floor playing with Hugo, you reached up and touched the pearl necklace underneath your turtleneck collar. It was hidden, but it was there. 

“Drink?” Jake asked, emerging with a bottle and two glasses. 

“Do you ever get tired of wine?” you asked, standing up and stretching, the hem of your shirt coming untucked for a moment and you reached back down, sticking it into the top of your jeans. 

“Never.” He grinned, pouring the dark red wine into a glass and handing it to you as you settled onto the couch. Jake poured himself a glass, sitting in a wingback chair near the fireplace. 

“How are you?” you asked quietly. On the mantle was a picture of Jenny. She had been beautiful. Dark hair, piercing green eyes. A laugh that could fill a room. 

Jake stilled. Hugo sensed it because he left his place at your feet and made his way to Jake, nudging his head against Jake’s thigh. “It’s quiet,” he replied after a moment. “Being alone.” 

“How so?” 

“Leaves you alone with your thoughts,” Jake said. “A good thing, and a bad thing.” 

“I understand,” you whispered. 

Jake cocked his head to one side. “Do I need to pay you for this?” he joked. 

You hid your face behind your wine glass. “Sorry, force of habit.” There was a pause. Then, “Have you, um, dated? Since?” 

“A few dates, yeah. But everyone I met, they just didn’t hold up to her.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“She loved you,” Jake said. “That time that we came to see you in London and the two of you went shopping at Harrods? She came back to the hotel practically giddy. Said that even though the two of you had an age difference, she felt like you were a friend she could count on.” 

“I loved her, too,” you replied, a tear forming in the corner of your eye. “I’m so sorry I didn’t make it back for the funeral.” 

Jake shook his head. “Really, don’t worry about it. Jenny wasn’t one for funerals. Neither am I, for the record. If it ever comes to that.” 

“It won’t,” you replied instantly. “Jake Seresin? You’re unstoppable.” 

“So was she,” he said softly. “Life happens, Y/N. You can’t predict it. You just have to keep going and hope that you find something else that makes you happy.” 

“Have you?” you asked. “Found something else that makes you happy?” 

“I’m working on it.” 

Tag list:

@lyn-js @seresinhangmanjake @bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @dempy @allbark-no-bite @teacupsandtopgun @na-ta-sh-aa @katiedid-3 @bradshawburner @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @rosiahills22 2 @emo @horseshoegirl @eminyourjeans

[firstkanaphans]

Safe House, Season 4: FK moments you might have missed (Day 5)

Before I dive into the FK-specific moments from this episode, I want to briefly address the fallout from Foei and White’s comments the night before. Their apology is still available on YouTube in its entirety, which is ironic considering they removed the actual incident, so now it just looks like they’re apologizing for nothing. You can read a full translation of the apology here.

I also paid extra close attention to both First and Khaotung’s interactions with Foei and White in the aftermath because I’ve seen some people say that Khao in particular acted annoyed by them, but in all honesty, I couldn’t tell a difference. Neither First nor Khaotung gave any indication that they were upset by what happened. This is not meant to excuse what Foei did or even to suggest that there wasn’t animosity lingering under the surface, but they kept it civil in the house and I don’t think it serves anyone well to insinuate that Khaotung was on some sort of revenge quest when he was actually super chill and professional. 

But now, hopefully, I am done talking about Foei and White forever.

First was in an exceptionally good mood this morning and was up almost as soon as the wake-up call went off. He tried to wake Khaotung to no avail.

He eventually gives up and goes to help Fourth wake the rest of the house instead. (Please check out this gif set of Fourth’s attempts to wake some of the younger boys because it’s one of my favorite things on this website.) And although we don't get to see Fourth try to wake Khaotung, he does come back into the room and complain to First, “P’Khaotung won’t wake up.” To which First responds, “He won't wake up? Fine. I’ll do it naa.” And then instead of actually trying to wake him up, he just crawls back into bed with him 😂

The morning challenge involved the contestants trying to catch a piece of toast in their mouths. First was down an arm, so Khaotung worked the toaster for him during several of his attempts. This also led to one of my all-time favorite Safe House moments:

The fact that Khao just takes it. Out of his bestie’s mouth. Without question. Insanity.

The afternoon session opens with Khaotung making coffee. First is teasing him for saying a bad word, which Khao swears he didn’t say. You can watch the video and read a full translation of that clip here.

I’d always assumed Khao was making the coffee for himself, but he put the cup in front of First’s place at the lunch table and then they both drank out of it. You know. Just bestie things.

After that, there was another pool challenge that First couldn’t participate in. He still did his best to have fun, though.

That night during dinner, they are given desserts with flowers in them. Khaotung and First both spend the entire meal trying to secretly stick them on each other.

(via)

After dinner, everyone plays “Never Have I Ever” while waiting for production to set up their next challenge. Whenever someone loses, they have to do push-ups. This was Khao’s attempt.

And the aftermath:

Later that same night is when the infamous pillow-sniffing happens. First and Khao are sitting on the couch together. Khao gets up and, without missing a beat, First reaches for the pillow he had been holding and sniffs it.

Fourth is immediately like “bro, you good?” and although we can’t actually hear them, I can only assume that First tries to justify his actions in some way because the next thing you know, Fourth is sniffing the pillow too. You can watch the full video here.

I know people say “there’s no heterosexual explanation for this” about things that do, in fact, have a heterosexual explanation, but this is gay AF. Like? First, honey. Stand up.

Almost a whole hour of the evening session is just the cast watching The Eclipse on an iPad. (Really, GMMTV? An iPad? There was no way for you to cast it onto an actual TV?) At one point, First gets up and smacks Khaotung with a pillow over something Aye did. You can watch it here. I tried to gif it, but it looks overly violent in gif form because First knocks over a picture frame and everyone freaks out.

And then finally, our two favorite besties get into another squabble during the evening interviews. Khaotung playfully pushes First and First says, “Everyone, please take note that I am not usually the one who teases him.” Then Khao pulls him off screen.

Sorry this got so long. They were extra gay today.

[captain-hawks]

run the table

rintarou suna x f!reader

In which a night spent playing pool with Suna at a local dive threatens to broach the flimsy boundaries that exist between your professional morals and the chart-climbing musician's steady, loaded gaze.

wc: 2k

c: 18+ only, musician!suna, manager!reader, reader is in denial, semi-public sexual activities, thigh riding, fingering, handjob

a/n: suna's music is essentially = cigarettes after sex

(requested by @cheesypuffkins87)

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — PART V

[sunarin.x] tagged you in their story!

There’s a gentle vibration against your wrist, and you set the pool stick currently clutched in your hands upright as you tilt your arm to read the notification that lights up the screen. Furrowing your brow, you slide your phone out of your back pocket, navigating until you’re met with a photo of yourself from the game you just lost—bent forward over the table seconds before mistakenly sinking the eight ball.

Spinning around, you let your indignant gaze fall on the amateur photographer in question, who’s currently leaning against the wall nearby, face lit up by the glow of his own phone screen as a thumb adorned in black nail polish continuously swipes upward.

(You’ve been stalking around the table contemplating your first move in the current game for ten minutes.)

“Do you enjoy broadcasting my mediocrity to your devoted followers?” you ask flatly with a hand on your hip as you idly twirl the wooden cue, well aware that your presence in the musician’s post is bound to draw the ire of more than a few of his fans.

His eyes flick upward in your direction, and as always—unfortunately—being on the receiving end of his cool, assessing gaze proves to elicit something akin to a minor case of spontaneous combustion throughout your nervous system.

Suna’s music career has taken off over the course of the past year, his devastatingly attractive looks (the most recent words an interviewer used to describe him, not your own, for the record) and beautifully soft, raspy pitch (once again, courtesy of another thirsty interviewer) the perfect storm for a viral social media breakout after he shared one of his catchy ambient, dreamy, indie rock tunes (okay, you’ll own up to that comment). 

Thanks to a handful of mutual acquaintances, namely your close friend Semi—who introduced the two of you in the first place, you’re now Suna’s manager. 

Of sorts.

For all intents and purposes.

Also sort of a public relations liaison.

When he deigns to listen to any of the advice and guidance you dole out on a daily basis.

Mostly you just end up reaming him out for the nights he has too much to drink before shows or for taking risky liberties with his snarky attitude on the internet as his name continues to grow. 

When you’re not doing that, you’re inevitably using your spare key to drag his hungover body over the threshold of his apartment for whatever interview he’s late for. (You’re still seething about the time he shuffled in wearing an oversized hoodie with eyebags for days and still had the interviewer stumbling over her goddamn words.)

Okay, so Suna’s attractive.

Objectively.

When he’s somehow wriggled his way under your skin to now become one of your closest friends, it’s a factual observation you unfortunately can’t deny when you spend most nights of the week sprawled out on the other side of his couch with takeout food.

(The traitorous thought becomes a particularly sore spot when he deigns to stretch out across said couch and drop his head into your lap, eyes never leaving whatever bad movie is playing on the television screen while he does it.)

Suna thinks it’s funny—the amount of times you’ve been mistaken for his girlfriend at this point.

You hate him, just a little.

“You looked cute,” he grins, pushing off of the wall and striding toward you while his cue is left behind.

You valiantly ignore the eruption of warmth in your chest, fingers clenching tightly around your own stick. 

“The goal was to beat the girlfriend allegations. Let me manage your difficult ass in peace, Suna,” you huff, turning around to resume lining up your shot.

And suddenly he’s way too fucking close when his voice dances against the shell of your ear, “I liked it better when you were calling me Rin last night.”

Your arm jerks forward quicker than you were planning, and the white cue ball goes careening in the wrong direction, knocking into an entire cluster of Suna’s striped ones. Somehow, you still manage to sink one of your own balls in the process. When you turn to look at him, your noses nearly brush, and the clean scent of his body wash invades your senses. 

Eyes going wide, you slam your palm down on the edge of the table a little harder than necessary as you take a step back and retort, “You wouldn’t share the Skittles with me until I did!”

The entire situation was far less sexual than his low, rasping tone implies—you’d wrestled him to the floor in your kitchen over the pilfered bag you had bought, and he wouldn’t relent until the words, “Please share, Rin,” fell from your lips.

(Though you’d tried not to think too much on the expression that briefly flickered across his face when you said it at the time, now, the memory of it leaves your throat uncomfortably dry.)

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“Then please stop distracting me so I can beat you this time, Rin,” you snark, lifting the pool cue once more and turning back to the table.

Without warning, a warm body presses up against yours from behind, and Suna’s hands come to rest atop your own on the stick. 

“You’re horrible at pool,” he murmurs into your ear, and you fail to suppress the shudder that runs through you.

At a loss for words, and somewhat afraid of what might come tumbling past your lips under the duress of this proximity, you let your body go pliant beneath his touch as he readjusts your stance, using his hips as well as he nudges and presses you into place.

It can’t be good for your health, the frantic rhythm your heart’s currently beating against your ribcage, fighting to claw its way out. (Fighting to beat out the level-headed logic of your brain that’s kept you from embarrassing yourself up until now.)

—because Suna’s a flirt.

He’s just a flirt.

And you’re not about to lose your fucking job and friend over—

“What if I want to prove them right?” he whispers.

The world tilts, just a little.

You’d drop the pool stick if not for the way his fingers are curled around your own, your body rocking back into his ever so slightly under the loss of support from your stupid, weak knees. He pushes you forward, your hips pressing into the side of the pool table, and it becomes abundantly obvious in that moment just how hard he is, the outline of his cock firmly pressed between your asscheeks through the fabric of your skirt.

You’re not sure who’s in control of the cue stick at this point when it moves, three of your balls cleanly finding pockets in the process.

And just like that, something inside of you snaps free, leaving a heady, unrelenting flood of heat in its wake.

In a perfect world, one free of the multitude of prying eyes mingling around this local dive, you might find yourself rocking back into the cradle of Suna’s hips, delighting in the rough, low groan the action drags out of him.

(Okay, so you do allow yourself that much.)

But then you’d find yourself bent over the pool table while Suna bunches your skirt up against the small of your back and spreads your legs for the stretch of his cock.

(You’ll die before you admit how many times you’ve imagined this exact scenario.)

It’s the four walls bathroom stall adorned with phone numbers scrawled in black sharpie and hastily scrawled graffiti that end up privy to the moment Suna’s lips finally come crashing into yours instead in some desperate, messy approximation of a kiss. His mouth is a searing, hungry, insistent brand against your own, and the relentless chase of his tongue into your mouth leaves you dizzy as he nudges your thighs apart with his own.

“We shouldn’t—” you gasp out.

The door to the bathroom swings open, creaking on its hinges, and he gently covers your mouth with the palm of his hand, gazing at you intently. Shoes shuffle across the tile floor into another stall, and Suna’s eyes crinkle with amusement, the only warning you get before he blatantly slots his firm thigh against the heat between your legs.

Pleasure flares in your gut as your hips unconsciously rock into him, your cunt aching with need from the tease of friction against your damp folds. 

You bite down on the flesh of his palm, which only further fuels him to press into you even harder. A moan nearly escapes past the boundary of his skin against your lips.

He tilts his head to the side, biting his lower hip before glancing down at where you’re—for all intents and purposes—straddling his thigh, and then back up at you again. 

Maybe it’s the way his brown hair falls messily across his face, courtesy of your fingers. Maybe it’s lust-blown pupils. Maybe it’s the unsteady rise and fall of his own heaving chest.

(Maybe it’s just the way all of these feelings you’ve tried so hard to ignore are now ruthlessly reaching a feverish, unapologetic crest.)

Whatever’s to blame, you can’t bring yourself to care under the thrall of the satisfying burst of pleasure that unfurls between your legs as you grind down against Suna’s thigh.

Suna looks just as drunk on the heady wave of pleasure you’re riding as you drag your slick heat up and down against his leg, his forehead falling against yours as he bunches up your skirt around your hips. A hot huff of air hangs in the space between your mouths as he catches sight of the mess your soaked panties now leave behind on his jeans with each thrust.

You’re both momentarily shaken from your silent, lust-addled haze when the sound of the sink running echoes throughout the room, followed by the door slamming shut once more. 

Hardly a beat passes before you’re scrambling for the button on Suna’s jeans, the movements of your fingers a mirror to the determination of his own as he hooks a digit in your panties and tugs them aside. Dragging his lips back against yours, Suna groans into your mouth when you wrap your hands around his cock, a sound that devolves into something even hungrier when his fingers make contact with the wet, dripping mess your folds have already become.

The walls of the bathroom stall groan in protest as Suna thrusts two fingers in and out of your tight hole, lips tangling with your own in a filthy kiss while you rapidly stroke his thick, throbbing shaft with a spit-soaked palm.

“You’re fired,” he pants into the kiss, voice rough.

“What the fuck, Rin,” you gasp, the coil of tension in your gut trembling as he strokes his thumb over your swollen clit.

Bucking into your grip, he fucks your fist, groaning as you pull hard on the hair at the back of his head with your free hand.

“Be my girlfriend,” he exhales, taking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Your entire body arches forward into Suna’s touch, and you nearly stumble as you let out a keening whimper into his mouth, vision going white as pleasure explodes inside of you. 

Suna tips over the edge of his climax while you’re still trembling from your own, his open lips against the corner of your mouth as he groans your name while hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock and coat your fingers.

—

Later, when the sun’s just beginning to creep over the horizon and you awake tangled beneath his sheets while he softly snores against your shoulder, there’s a notification waiting on the lock screen of your phone as you lift it to check the time.

[sunarin.x] tagged you in a post!

It’s a picture he took of the two of you sitting on his couch a few days ago, a fondly exasperated look on your face as you’re glancing down at where his own face is pressed against your shoulder, his mouth curved upward in a grin.

There’s a single heart that fills the space where the caption should be.

[cowboybarzy]

what about a little utah hiking blurb with barzy for the summer series? I just know that man would hike shirtless in slutty 5in inseam shorts and would be the real view to look at the whole time👀

come along the world trip

Can I make this smutty? Please? Please? Oh well I did. I'm sorry I turned into a slut thinking about this.

word count: 1.6k warning: smut!!! 18+

📍utah, usa with mat barzal

Abs. So many abs. This man in front of you had abs for days and you weren't even ashamed to stare. You knew he enjoyed it. From where you were sitting on your big rock taking a break from your hike you could perfectly see the beautiful mountain range and your boyfriend Mat drinking some water. The sunlight hit his chiseled abs and when he squirted some water over himself, he wasn't the only one getting wet.

"You can do more than just look, you know." Mat walked closer to where you were sitting when he saw you staring. His body above you blocked the sun which made it easy to look up at him. His smirk was wide and he wiggled his eyebrows knowingly.

You were in the middle of a hike in Utah, where you were spending a few of days with your friend group. You had rented a big house in the middle of nowhere and just spent your days hanging out by the pool, going hiking or doing some other outdoor activities. Todays hike was long and unfortunately for you you were hiking with mostly professional athletes who were making this look way easier than it was. Didn't help that Mat took his shirt off pretty much right when you started walking and that his tiny shorts kept riding up exposing his thick thighs. Multiple times Mat told you he would be more comfortable if you walked in front of him, but the view of looking up at his ass definitely was worth saying no to him.

"You wish." You patted him on the shoulder as you stood up and followed your group who was done with the water break.

"Wait!" Mat caught up to. "Can't walk faster than me. How else are you supposed to check out my ass?"

He laughed as he made a show of walking faster and sticking his butt out a bit.

"Stop!" But you couldn't help but look and let your mind wander to what you would be doing later on at night in bed. "Mat!"

"Oh, come on, admit it." He turned around and grabbed your outstretched hand to pull you into him. "Admit that you're horny as fuck on this hike," he whispered harshly in your ear as you stumbled backwards.

"Seems to me you're the one that's horny as fuck." He shrugged as he tightened his arms around you and you could feel his erection rub against your lower abdomen. "Huh."

He looked around his shoulder making sure your friends were far enough away and thankfully they just turned a corner. He quickly slammed his lips on yours and pushed his tongue into your mouth for a desperately needed kiss. Who was more desperate in this moment was unclear but you kissed each other with fiery passion. His hands wandered to your ass pulling at you while your hands desperately pulled at his sweaty hair. "Mat! Not here."

"No one is here," he mumbled in between kisses. He moved you further back until your back hit a boulder. "You know you want me to fuck you right here against this rock."

Your core clenched at his words, wanting exactly what he just proposed. Your head was spinning and your entire body tingled with excitement. You never thought you'd be into public sex, you barely liked kissing him for more than a few seconds in public, but right now the idea already had you chasing a release. "Oh god," you moaned as you dug your nails into his scalp. Mat chuckled against your neck, then sucked on it.

"Tell me." He wrapped a hand around your thigh and lifted your leg to wrap around his hip to get a better angle to grind into your core. "Tell me how much you want it, baby."

"Oh, Maty." Your head fell back. "I- I wa-"

"Barzy?! (Y/n)?!" Your friends voice interrupted your moment and you froze.

"Uh- We're okay!," Mat yelled back. "(Y/n) twisted his ankle, we're just taking a break. We'll catch up."

"Good. We were already making bets on whether or not you were fucking based on the way you were eye fucking each other earlier." You both bit your lip to keep from laughing and thankfully the boulder was hiding you from the compromising position you were in.

"Nope, no fucking here."

"You need any help, (y/n)?"

"All good, thanks. Already feels better," you yelled back and pinched Mat in the bicep, trying not to laugh.

"Alright, see you later."

The moment was now ruined, so you took a few moments to collect yourself and then tried to catch up with your friends.

***

"Oh my god!," you screamed as Mat seemed to pick up his pace driving into you. You held on to his shoulders as you threw your head back against the shower wall when your body started to tingle with an orgasm fast approaching.

After you had gotten back from your hike, Mat immediately pulled you into your bedroom and in for a shower where he made up for the moment that was ruined earlier. While the shower wall wasn't exactly a boulder, him fucking you against it had the same effect. The second you were wet enough (both meanings) he hoisted you up against the wall and sat you on his thick thighs and entered you with such force, you thought you were being ripped apart. And that feeling didn't stop as he was gripping your ass and thrusting his thick cock into your tight pussy.

"Fuck, don't stop." Your lips found his neck and wandered up to his earlobe, which you bit into when he hit your g-spot. "Oh, god, I'm gonna cum. Maty!"

"Do it," he grunted. "Cum for me, baby."

Your toes curled and your entire body started shaking as your orgasm washed over you. He set you back down on your feet once you stoped shaking, but he never once stopped touching you. His hands wandered up and down your body, his lips kissing you with such desperation like he was starving. Your hand snuck between you and grabbed his cock, pumping it a few times earning moans and grunts from him that made you wet all over again. Thankfully, he didn't make you wait long. With a swift maneuver, he had you turned around and your hands against the wall.

The water from the rain shower head trickled down on you, a refreshing treat from the extremely hot weather just outside.

"Mathew," you whined, when he didn't immediately touch you, but that was soon remedied when his hand slapped across your ass. You gasped, feeling and reveling in the burn it left. "Again."

He complied, rubbing the area afterward and sliding his fingers through your wet folds. "You like that?" He spanked you two more times before he grabbed and turned on the detachable shower head and handed it to you. He guided it to your waiting and throbbing pussy and with your help angled and held it just above your clit. Your head dropped in pleasure and your muscles already started shaking.

"Oh, fuck yes," you moaned when he gripped your hips and slid his cock in between your folds.

"So fucking horny for me," he groaned, continuously teasing your entrance. "You were really going to let me fuck you against that boulder, huh? My girl."

"Yes. Yours." With one quick thrust he entered you, making you almost lose your balance. Your entire body tingled and waves of euphoria crashed over you with every thrust of his thick cock massaging your core. The water stream against your clit had you shaking and screaming Mat's name so fast you could barely feel the orgasm coming.

"Uh, uh, keep it there," Mat demanded as the shower head started to slip out of your hand and off your clit. The sensation was too much to handle.

"I can't," you answered breathlessly when your orgasm subsided. "Too much."

His hand snuck around your body and grabbed you lightly by your throat pulling you back to meet his chest. "You can handle it, right? You love my cock in this tight pussy of yours, eh?"

All you good do was nod as he whispered into your ear and continued to pump into you. "Good girl. And you're gonna take my cum so well, eh?"

"Yes! I want it." His other hand came to your sore clit that was hurting as he rubbed it quickly to coax a third orgasm out of you. "Oh, god, Maty, I can't-"

Your pussy tightened around him as his swelling cock getting ready for his release. Your hand found the back of his head, pulling at his wet hair. "Fuck, baby. I can't get enough of you."

His hips sped up, sliding impossibly deeper into you as you arched your back for him to do so. And that was what it took for your body to start convulsing in his arms again. Mat's grip around your hip tightened and with a few more hard thrusts he emptied himself inside you with loud grunts. He thrust in, stayed, and then pumped you full of his cum until you felt it began to leak out, getting washed away by the water. He kept releasing while that rush took a hold of your body, miking his cock until you both fell back against the shower wall spent and tired. After catching your breath, Mat pulled you in for a long and tender kiss. "I love you so fucking much."

[luveline]

I have a potential request for the eddie zombie!AU! could I request eddie taking shy!reader under his wing as he is traveling? maybe she is injured and is like 100% sure she’s going to die but then eddie comes along like a knight and helps her to safety, and then they just stick together?

thank you for your request angel! —eddie finds you wounded in the midst of the apocalypse and wants to help, 2.5k, fem!reader. tw for zombie apocalypse typical circumstance, blood and injury

Eddie is absolutely sick of being alone. He imagined the apocalypse cooler than it turned out to be —there aren't that many people around anymore and he's constantly a bit hungry, and having long hair is now the norm. He hasn't seen a real living human being in three weeks and he's starting to wonder (worry) if he's the last man on Earth. 

That is, until he sees blood on the sidewalk outside of a pizza place. He'd been planning on going inside just to smell the floury scent of pizza dough, and maybe pretend to answer the phone (he never worked as a delivery guy, but he thinks it might've been his calling). Blood is everywhere in the apocalypse. Genuinely everywhere, and it smells bad when it's old, vinegary and acrid. There's blood on car doors, bloody handprints on windows, pools of it where people died and then their bodies, reanimated and without control, stood and walked off again. 

So Eddie's gotten good at blood. He knows old blood from new blood when he sees it, dead blood from alive blood, and the blood trail leading behind the smashed glass door of the pizza place is both new and alive. Or, probably alive. Was alive. He nudges it with his shoe, and it's still wet, not even slightly clotted. 

Definitely alive. 

Eddie doesn't really think about how whoever it is that's inside could murder him in cold blood for his gear. Eddie's sort of stacked —he has a bike, a proper one like a professional doing the Tour De French, or whatever, he doesn't remember what it's called, would need. The point is that he has a really sturdy bike and a wagon strapped behind it full of camping shit, and the world is so desolate that nobody's tried to shank him for it yet. He leaves his bike by the door and tries to open the door slowly, not wanting to startle whoever it is that's bleeding that badly into hiding from him and his extensive first aid kit. 

Eddie pulls it to his chest and steps carefully over a path of broken glass. 

"Hey," he calls out. He clears his throat. "Is someone here? I– listen, I'm not here to hurt you, I saw the blood, and I have bandages and antiseptic and everything you need. Maybe. Unless you got shot, I can't do stitches for shit, trust me." Trust the weird huge scar on his ankle. 

"Listen," he continues, approaching the counter, peering behind it at a skyscraper of pizza boxes and a dust covered floor, "I know you have no reason to trust me, so I'm gonna go sit outside, and if you want to come out where I can't corner you, I'll help. I swear." 

He follows the trail of blood to the cabinet under the ingredients counter. The door moves near imperceptibly.

He gives it a second, and then Eddie turns to leave.

"Wait," says a girl's voice, muffled and weak, "wait, please." 

Eddie waits, spinning on his heel to watch as you push open the cabinet door. 

He's surprised at the cleanliness of your top half until he realises the bottom of you might as well have been dipped in an exploded blood bank. 

"Oh, shit," he says, rushing forward. 

You flinch back and he follows on unperturbed, even when you throw your hands up to cover your face. 

"I'm not gonna do anything," he promises, panicked, "where are you bleeding? You'll have to show me." He makes sure you can see his lack of weapons and his huge green first aid kit. 

"It's my side," you say, and as soon as you speak you start to cry, little shuddering huffs of pain escaping you as Eddie kneels at your side. "I– I– I tried to climb over a fence, and I got caught on the barbed wire, I didn't– I don't–" 

He shushes you with as much gentleness as he possesses and pulls up your shirt. It's your hip, not your side, and the cut is a frankly gruesome laceration into the fat. Eddie's going to have to sew you up after all. 

He knows what he should do even if he's only done it once before, finding your blood covered hand on instinct and squeezing it. "It's okay," he says, not knowing if it will be, "I can fix it. I have everything, okay? Can I fix it?" 

"Please," you whimper. 

He doesn't need any pleading. He clicks open the first aid kit and looks first for gauze, pressing it to your side even as blood pools wet and shiny on the floor beneath you. You're in agony, clearly, twisting away from his touch. 

"Please stay still," he says, firm but kind. "It'll hurt more the more you move. I have painkillers, and I'll give you some right now. Right now, okay? Stay still." 

You shriek as he presses down on your hip but you don't move. He hates having hooked a sound like that from you —Eddie's not a violent person, even if he's rough around the edges— and he rushes to correct it. He swaps the soaked gauze for a second, pressing down hard again, and remembers with a white hot panic that he didn't disinfect his hands. 

It's rough going. He finds the painkillers, you take them dry. He has the urge to touch your cheek because you're in so much pain, and the blood has somehow ended up on your face like a crimson tear. Eddie disinfects his hand and your hip, which still hurts wildly untouched by the painkillers, and opens a sterile packaging of needle and medical thread. His hands shake as he ties the thread with tweezers. It's imperative he doesn't touch the needle, even if he did disinfect his hands, because it will end up deep in your skin. 

By the time he's ready to start the stitches you're crying and not speaking, a hand pressed to your mouth. "I don't know how much the painkillers have worked, and I don't think they'll stop this from hurting, but I think I have to stitch it before you lose too much blood. Is that okay? Can I start?" he asks. 

You nod hurriedly. "Just– Don't– Just ignore me if I ask you to stop," you say weakly. 

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste blood as strongly as he smells it. 

He stitches your wound closed. It's a jagged wound shaped like an italicised 'y', and he does it as carefully as he can manage, even if the amount of blood pouring from it scares him. He doesn't want to do it wrong and have the stitches rip, or cause more pain than they need too. 

He never wants to hear someone make the sounds you make ever again. When he tells you it's alright, that you don't have to bite them back, you start to sob with each string he tugs. He can't imagine how fiery the pain is. 

When it's done, he disinfects your hip again generously. He must not do a bad job at stitching you up, because while the wound weeps blood into the disinfectant like dye seeping into fabric, it's ten times slower. You look down at your hip, hiccup, and look away. There's blood everywhere, so Eddie pulls you by the underarms across the floor and sits you up. You're still crying, sobbing, but you don't say anything. Eddie wipes away as much blood as he can. Then he covers your newly stitched wound with a fresh, thick square of gauze and tapes it. Finally, he wraps bandages around your waist to keep everything in place, and to apply pressure to the wound. 

He looks at your clammy face with a mixture of pity and newfound pride. He doesn't know who you are, but you did a damn good job.

"Well done," he says, rubbing the lengths of your arms quickly, like a hug without closing in on you. "You did awesome. I'm gonna run outside to get my stuff, I have a shirt that should fit you, and some pants. Water, food. I have whatever you need." 

"A tranquilliser?" you ask. 

"Maybe not one of those."

Eddie retrieves his bike and his wagon, carting them into the kitchen, through your blood trail, and into the staff room behind you. It's snug but there's a couch, and that's all that matters. He shoves the bike aside and runs back to your side, crouching. You look like you're gonna pass out.

"Hey," he says, "can I lift you up?" 

"It's gonna hurt," you say. 

"Yeah, but there's a couch in there, and a door that locks, I don't want us to get attacked while we can't move." 

"Are you going to attack me?" you ask, looking like you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. 

He shakes his head quickly. "No. I promise." 

A promise from someone you don't know isn't worth much, but you take it, and Eddie helps you up and into the staff room. Your crying wanes. Maybe the painkillers are working, or maybe you've run out of steam. Acclimatised to the pain. 

Eddie stops before he gets to the couch. "No funny business, I'm gonna take off your pants." 

"It's okay, whatever," you gasp out. "Sit me down." 

Eddie unbuttons your jeans and you kick them off the best that you can. Your legs are streaked with blood too, but at least you can sit down without absolutely ruining the couch you'll be sleeping on for the next few days. Eddie locks the door, grabs the clothes shears, and cuts off your top. You really do look at him then, your eyes wide with fear, and he backs away from you with his hands up. 

"Sorry," he says, "I'm sorry, I'm not trying to scare you. You've been holding your elbow, I thought maybe you hurt that too, didn't want you to lift your arm."

Your fear ebbs with his explanation. He grabs clothes from his wagon, ears piqued when you speak up. "I think I've broken it."

"Your arm?" he asks. That's an entirely different problem. It could be painful for the rest of your life.

"My elbow. It's swollen." 

"I'll give you more painkillers," he says assuringly. 

He grabs the shirt that looks like it'll fit you and a pair of pants that will be too big. He doesn't know why he has all this stuff that doesn't fit him, he kinda thought they were cool. And who could abandon a Dio t-shirt when no one will ever make one ever again?

"Do you need help?" he asks. 

You sigh regretfully. "I don't think I really have a choice."

"You do. We could throw a blanket over you? Two blankets, even." 

"Please help me put on the t-shirt," you say. 

He doesn't resent you at all for sounding untrusting, even if he did potentially save your life a few minutes ago. People are cruel and will do the worst thing they can do to another person if they want to. He helps you into the t-shirt. You flinch when you straighten out your arm, but it goes on well. Next he helps you into the cargo pants that are luckily a starchy but flexible cotton. You wince as they reach your hip. He lets them lie low. 

He makes sure there's a pillow behind your head, laying his favourite blanket over you and tucking you in amicably. 

Pulling his hair out of his face, Eddie laments how sweaty he is and eyes the wagon for what best to feed you with. You're probably nauseous from pain, so while he'd love to feed you hearty oxtail soup or a can of meatballs that promise protein, he grabs a box of crackers, a tin of vegetable soup that he knows from experience is watery and sad, and his big flask of water. 

He sits down a half a foot from you on the couch. 

"Here," Eddie says, opening the crackers. "You should eat something, please. And drink some water, too." 

You accept everything silently, though after a few morose chews of saltine you murmur, "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Really welcome." 

"You didn't have to help me," you say, shivering with pain still but looking less like you’re going to pass out now you’ve stopped bleeding profusely.

He looks down at his hands, blood in the grooves of his palms, and shrugs. "Yeah, I did." 

"Most people wouldn't, though." 

"I don't think there's a precedent for what people do anymore. You're the first person I've seen in weeks."

"You're lucky." 

"Yeah?" He tucks his hair behind his shoulder. "I guess I am." 

You eat another cracker, and then you stick out your hand very tentatively. "I'm Y/N. Thank you for saving me." 

He shakes your hand with the same tentativeness.

"I'm Eddie," he says with a smile. "You're welcome." 

"I thought I was gonna die in the cabinet," you say, rubbing your eyes, "like a sick dog. I just wanted to be alone while it happened." 

It's a very solemn thing to admit to, and in the quiet of the room, your face and hands dull with blood, it's macabre.

"Sorry I didn't let you die," he says, trying not to laugh in shock. 

You visibly fluster, your embarrassment held tightly in the set of your shoulders and your frenetic hand as you rub your collar. "I didn't want to die. I don't want to." 

"Then you won't," Eddie says, knowing it's not that simple, but needing to persuade the agony from your face. 

You look down at your lap. Eddie searches for something to offer, something he can give now that you're lucid enough to know you were in the shit. It's terrifying business, knowing you could've died. 

"I have a bottle of Black Coconut rum if you're interested. I thought it might come in handy lighting fires, but I think you could use it," Eddie offers. 

"Yes," you say, your voice small. "I think so too." 

"If we had some pineapple juice, I would love to make you a Piña Colada. Now that would cheer you up." 

"Rum is fine, please." 

Eddie doesn't let you suffer. He gets up to grab the rum and passes it to you. You drink it in surprisingly eager glugs, rum running down your neck in shiny rivulets like shooting stars plummeting through a vermillion sky. He needs to help you clean the blood from your throat and face before it dries. 

You shudder and pass the rum bottle back to him, looking sicker than sick. "That wasn't bad," you say, eyes squeezed closed. You sound like you've been punched. 

Eddie hoots a laugh. He really missed having good company. 

—

thank you for reading! reblogs are appreciated, and if you have a request for this au let me know, I’d love to write more of their story!! <3

[dissentersbedamned]

that charlie redesign wanted me to redesign some others so here are some others, i was going to do husk, nifty, and sir pentious but i didnt feel like doing that

are these designs easier to animate? probably not am i claiming to be a better character designer than viziepop? yes

i might do the others but probably not i dont want to be know for this

individual characters and design notes below

i wanted to give her this soft color palette, making her stick out from the rest of hell, like an "angel" in hell

gave her a pink suit like her pilot design

gave her gold accents to give that royalty feel

her hair is now more curly/swirly to giver her a sheep look, along with the ears, kind of like how lucifer is associated with goats charlie has sheep

i also gave her ears to maker her not look like just a human

the darker pink-red color is supposed to contrast with her softer colors but not that much, it's supposed to convey that she is still a demon, the horns were also added to give that feel

bigger cheek makeup (?) and those gold "chains" were added to giver her a circus clown/ring leader look because hell is supposed to be like a circus

gave her tap shoes to convey shes likes music or someshit

darker color to contrast with charlies, a sun and moon thing going on

made her more moth like by making her hair look like moth wings, fuzzy leg warmers, and antennas (are those even antennas do moths even have antennas)

added a silver like color in her design to match with charlies gold

gave back her stocking from her pilot design and made her hand warmers mirror them

wanted to giver her a hot topic employee look

made her more look like she died in 2014 by giving her the red and black stocking + hand warmer, leg warmers, and making her x asymmetrical

her worm out shorts are suppose to give a 2014 feel but also are like that because moths just eat clothes sometimes

gave her the ribbon on her waist to mimic one of her old designs

her red is the same red in charlies pallet, they match +]

made him purple because i think limiting the main colors to each character is nice also because i think purple is a much more lust full color and to look similar to his old design

made him more spider like by adding an extra pair of eyes, fangs, two more legs and a spider butt lol

made him more fluffy and rounder to giver him a more effeminate/gnc look

gave him eyelashes for the same reason above

gave him a scar on the side that he has the golden tooth and different eyes because i think it would be cool is that was from an injury he had when he was alive

the coat was added so that it looks similar to his suit but still different enough so that not everyone is wearing one

the design on his pider butt and coat are suppose to look like a stylized spiders web

the hearts at the end of his heels are suppose to replicate the end of spiders feet

still kept him relatively skinny because i think he would have one of those arcs were a character starts off skinny but gets fatter to show that they're happy with life

still kept his suit because its such an important part to his character tbh and also so he can mirror charlies pink soft light pink suit with his dark dulled down red suit

gave him a tie so he looks more professional compared to charlies cutie bow tie

dulled down his colors so make him see older and stuck in an era

made him looked aged by giving him grey hairs, stubble, and eye bags

made his deer features more obvious by making his antlers bigger, more deer like ears, giving him a nose pike charlie, and giving him hooves

why alastor got socks on in the pool those are his hooves you bitch

actually made him black

still kept him skinny to give off that sickly skinny look

[spicerackofblorbos]

link to event information and masterlist

Delicate - Taylor Swift

Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

Third floor on the West Side, me and you Handsome, you're a mansion with a view Do the girls back home touch you like I do? Long night with your hands up in my hair Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share

☾ content/warnings ➼ canon, smut (MDNI), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it bbys), creampie, dominant Levi, lewd language

☾ wc ➼ ~650

You’re not entirely certain how you got to this point. One moment, you’re yelling at your captain for being too harsh on the new cadets. The next, you’re sneaking into the living quarters of said captain like it was second nature.

You both had an agreement early on that the relationship you two shared would be strictly professional, only talking when necessary and working together if commanded – it helped that you both couldn’t stand to be in the same building together.

Relationships between cadets and higher-ups were trouble, even more so when you’re a part of their squad. What if there was special treatment? The Scouts couldn’t risk it. They won’t hear of it.

It was a delicate situation, indeed.

That’s why you had to be extremely silent when you’re bent over Levi’s desk, his cock buried so deep in you that you could see stars.

“Lost your voice, have you?” Levi taunts gruffly from behind, his fingers gripping so tight on your hips that were you not so blissed out, you’d be wincing from the pain. “Think you can yell at me like that, huh?” His hips slam into you hard as he grunts.

Your fingers dig into the sides of the desk for something to hold on as your face rests on the cool, lacquered wood underneath you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so hard that it might bruise in the hopes to keep quiet, but soft moans escape anyway.

You don’t even know what time it is, or even how long you’ve been there. All you know is that you’ve had more than five orgasms at this point, and your legs are trembling. Were it not for the desk and Levi’s vice grip, you’d have crumpled to the floor by now.

“L-Levi-” You pant, a trail of saliva escapes your parted lips and pool on his unfinished paperwork – something you can’t be bothered to care about.

His hand slides up your back and into your hair before he curls his fingers in the strands, tugging hard until your head jerks up. You’re now face to face with the darkened window of his bedroom, the reflection of your slack jawed-self staring back at you.

“What’s that? Gonna cum again for me again?” His raven hair sticks to his forehead, glistening with sweat, as he pounds in you ruthlessly, skin slapping skin so loudly you just know someone could hear if they pass. “Do it. Come for me like the good cadet you are.”

You can’t even respond before the tidal wave of pleasure crashes over you, and you have to bite into your arm to keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck.” Levi groans at the feeling of you tightening around him from you coming undone.

He isn’t any better, because he cannot hold himself back anymore. His thrusts are erratic, and with one more hard hit, he spills deep in you. Thick ropes of his cum fill you up to the brim as he holds onto you for dear life.

For a moment, all that can be heard are the crickets singing outside of his window and the rapid pants from the two of you. He takes a moment before pulling out of you, followed by a small stream of a mix of both of your juices running down your leg.

Levi grips your waist with both hands and helps you stand, keeping an arm behind you to hold you steady.

“Maybe I should yell at you more often.” You tease, placing your hand on Levi’s chest for more stability. His heart is racing underneath your palm.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He warns, his stormy eyes narrowing just a sliver. “Let me get you cleaned up.” This time with a softer voice.

With a calloused him, he takes yours and leads you into his private bathroom, closing the wooden door behind you.

[gamesetart]

has anyone seen that old movie the crush? im thinking of something similar rn with patrick... (without all the going crazy and manipulation and the underage stuff)

your parents have a big house. a gorgeous country home, complete with a stable, for you horses, a back garden with a pool and a tennis court, and, of course, a guest house. a spacious little one-bedroom located literally within spitting distance from the main home.

and you - home for the summer, sophomore in college, headstrong, pretty, interesting, a sports medicine major - you were supposed to move in there. it's embarassing to be your age (a precocious twenty) and still living in your childhood bedroom, for godssake! but, at the last minute, your father tells you you can't. which is absurd: you've never been told 'no' in your life, why on earth should he start now?

well, after two weeks of complaining, whining, begging, bargaining, and straight-up threats, your answer arrives. arrives in the form of a single black suitcase and one heavy sports bag. arrives in the form of a tired, scraggly looking man parking his fucked-up car in your gorgeous gravel driveway, right next to your perfect, pristine white vintage mustang. it's insulting.

your guest house is occupied. by son of family friends, sort-of professional tennis player, patrick zweig. you hate him instantly. hate that because of him, you're confined to your stupid childhood bedroom, with your stupid baby-pink walls your mom won't let you change, your canopy bed with the gauzey curtains. you hate that your parents invite him in all the time. you hate that he drinks your coffee and eats your food. you hate that he found your contraband stash of cigarettes and weed, and you hate that you know he stole some, because you counted, and that you can't confront him about it in case he tells your parents.

and you hate how he's hot. hate that he plays tennis on your court, damp curls sticking to his face, sweat running down his tanned, toned arms, stupid shorts clinging to his thick, hairy thighs... you hate that he swims in your pool in nothing but his underwear. you hate that he has these bright blue eyes, almost green in certain lights, the pupils ringed with a hazelish, almost golden halo. and you despise how those eyes look at you, like he's going to fucking eat you.

not like he doesn't hate you, too. he hates how you parade around like you own the world. he hates how you are: too smart for your own good, too aware of it for everyone else's. he hates how you've obviously never been told no until the guest house. he hates that you're a know-it-all brat.

and he hates you (and himself, a little, but mostly you) for being so damn attractive. he hates that he'll come home, from a run, or a bad date, or something, and find you in a clean white tennis set - ralph lauren, or lacoste, or some other bougie brand mean less for atheltics and more for style - lazily serving to no one. he hates that you'll read by the pool, austen and shakespeare and poe, in your little bikinis, sucking on a lollipop, or, if your parents aren't home, smoking a cigarette. he hates when you get dressed up because your parents are throwing yet another party, hates you in your babydoll dresses and your sweet skirts and your sweetheart necklines.

like you don't know what you're doing to him.

the funny thing is, both of you are smart enough to see that the other is physically attracted to you, but you're both too proud to admit it goes both ways. so you strut around in tiny tennis skirts and bikinis. he swims in his underwear and comes in in nothing but a towel to steal from your fridge. waiting for the other to break, to snap, to trip up and fall. if patrick breaks first, you get to laugh and call him a dirty old perv for going after you - he's like, a decade older than you, for christssake! - and if you break first, patrick gets to bully you open on his cock, make you cry, finally bring you down a peg.

just a matter of time.

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Opposed Beliefs | Pt. 1

(A/N) If you feel like you've read this before, that possibility exists. I posted this once before but took it down because it wasn't doing well. But, I decided to no longer care about that, so I'll post it again and hopefully continue writing it!

Pairing: Cardinal!Copia x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: mentions of blood, Swiss being kind of a jerk at first, Copia being an adorable mess, Reader is a novice at a catholic abby

Synopsis: While you're in town, you find an injured man and decide to help him back to the church he calls home. There you meet Copia.

The rain was drumming heavily against the pavement, the sound interrupted by the splashing of your feet as you ran through puddles, not caring about the wetness inside your shoes. One of your arms was raised above your head, trying and failing, to shield you from the worst of it, while the other one was cradling the basket with groceries against your side. Both, your habit and your veil have been soaked through completely and you couldn’t suppress the shivers that ran down your spine whenever a particular cold drop of water would hit you.

When you had left the abbey to go to town, the forecast had indicated clear skies for the rest of the week. You would never admit it, but at this moment, you were cursing the weather forecast for its inaccuracy. Still, you kept on walking through the allies, talking the quickest route, back up the hill, and to the nunnery you were calling home.

A groan, almost drowned out by the sound of rain hitting the ground, caught your attention and you raised your head, your eyes searching up and down the alley, trying to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. And you found the source rather quickly.

There, behind one of the dumpsters, a leg was sticking out.

Maybe you should’ve been scared, or at least surprised. But all you could feel was worry and surprisingly…curiosity. You slowed down, but continued in the direction of the groans, carefully peeking behind the dumpster.

What you saw was a rather large man, completely clothed in black, with a silver mask on. His clothes looked vintage, a black coat, that reached his mid-thighs and a black sash around his waist. The silver mask had an elongated chin, as well as two horns and holes for his eyes.

And his eyes…a dark brown but blazing with intense heat as he watches you approach.

You carefully place the basket on the ground. By now it, as well as all the groceries inside were already soaked anyway, so it didn’t matter. You approached him further, finally noticing the watered-down red pooling by his side, a hot flash shooting through your body. He was bleeding.

Without thinking, you rush to his side and kneel, a hand quickly pressed against the wound. He hissed in pain and tried to pull away, but your hand automatically followed his body, keeping a firm pressure.

“Don’t move.”

You reached out and with quick fingers untied the sash, before placing it over the wound and tying it again. While you’ve never had formal training as any kind of medical professional, one of the nuns at the abbey had taught you a thing or two. After making sure that the sash sat firm in its place, you placed your arms under his shoulders and tried to get him to his feet, but he wouldn’t cooperate.

With an annoyed huff, you rise to your full height, which isn’t a lot, and glared at him. While he returned the glare for a bit, after a few moments, he gave up and, with your help, started to get to his feet. As soon as he stood, you placed one of his arms around your shoulders and one of yours around his waist, positioning your hand in a way, that you could add extra pressure to the wound.

“Okay, now where do you live?”

He stayed silent for a moment before he mumbled his answer.

“The black church.”

You knew immediately what building he was talking about. With shaky steps you started to maneuver him in the direction, carrying most of his weight. The groceries you were sent to buy were long forgotten.

Due to the rain and the slow pace of your companion, it took you two quite a bit to reach the church. Once you did, you pushed open the doors and stumbled inside, the man you’ve been partially carrying now almost unconscious.

“Help!”

Your cry for help went unanswered for an entire, very scary, moment before a man came running out of a side room. He was wearing a black cassock and and matching biretta. On the front of the cassock, a silver, upside-down crucifix was attached and he was wearing black paint around his eyes and on his upper lip. But in the moment, none of that caught your attention. What did catch your attention though, were his eyes. One was them was a brilliant green, while the other was a startling white.

You realized you had been staring, when the man suddenly stood in front of you, without you realizing that he had moved at all. His eyes flickered from the man you were still supporting, to you, worry clear in them.

“What happened?”

Before you could answer, he turned around and called out two names, before turning back to you and taking the man’s weight off of you. He carried him further into the building as two men, looking similar to the one you’d found earlier, came rushing out. They immediately grabbed the, by-now unconscious man, before waiting for instructions.

“Take him to the infirmary and call Aether. Keep me up to date.”

The two men nodded and carried the other one away, leaving you alone with the man in the cassock. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on them, until they left through a door and you could no longer see them.

“-ella? Sorella? Are you okay?”

His voice pulled you out of your thoughts and back into reality.

“W-What?”

He smiled. And what a smile he had. It was kind and understanding and you suddenly felt at peace.

“I was just asking if you are alright.”

You nodded shakily before suddenly realizing how weak your knees felt.

“I…I think I need to sit down for a second.”

His eyes widened and he placed his hand on the small of his back, gently but quickly leading you to the room he had just come out of. He pulled out a fluffy armchair for you and for a second, you hesitated, realizing that you were drenched to the bone. But as soon he realized that, he just gestured for you to sit down and eventually you did.

“Please, wait here for a second. I’ll quickly grab some tea.”

You were about to protest, but the man was already out the door, leaving you alone for a few moments. You took the time to calm down. Only then did you realize you were shivering.

A few minutes passed before the man entered the room again, a tray with two steaming cups in one hand, and a towel and blanket in the other. He carefully placed the tray on the desk, before handing the towel to you.

“I ah…I will turn around, so…ehm…you can dry your, ah, hair.”

You nodded with a smile and waited for him to turn his back, before carefully taking your veil off and rubbing the towel over your hair. As soon as it dried at least a little bit, you quickly put your veil back on, glad that you were still a novice and didn’t have to hide your hair completely.

“You…you can turn back around.”

The man did so and smiled at you before he took a few steps closer and carefully placed the blanket around your shoulders.

“You’re shaking, sorella.”

His voice. It was quiet and soft and filled with care that, if you didn’t know any better, would remind you of a lover, not a stranger.

“Ah…ahm…thank you. I appreciate it, really. But…may I ask…what have you been calling me? So-sorella?”

He again smiled, as soon as that foreign word left your mouth.

“Si, sorella. It ah…means sister.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, your fingers automatically reaching for your veil.

“I-I am not a nun yet. I ahm…I’m still a novice.”

Now it was his turn for his eyes to widen. He frantically started to apologize, almost panicked.

“No, no. Please, it’s okay.”

You rose to your feet and placed your hand on his forearm, effectively calming him down. He smiled before lowering his head and shaking it.

“Mi dispiace, I should’ve known.”

“I promise you, it’s completely fine.”

He smiled and nodded before gesturing for you to sit back down. As you did, he handed you one of the cups, before he grabbed the other one and sat down himself. You whispered a quick thank you and started sipping the warm liquid, sighing at its taste and the warmth that started to spread through your body from the inside.

“If you would like, we have a…ehm…a drier. We can dry your habit and uh…offer you some other clothes while you…you wait.”

He didn’t look at you while he spoke, but you noticed a soft blush covering his cheeks.

“You are too kind, but I will have to leave soon. The others at the abbey will already be worried.”

He nodded, seemingly lost in thought, before he rose to his feet and placed the cup on his desk.

“In that case, I insist on driving you back to the abbey. It is ahm…cazzo…far away still.”

The second sentence sounded more like a question, and you were about to protest, but he spoke again, before you could.

“No, really. I do insist. Per favore.”

You hesitated for a moment, before nodding.

“Fine…thank you…ahm…I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

He perked up and took a step closer, a shy smile adorned his face.

“Copia.”

The man reached for your hand and raised it to his lips, leaving a soft peck on your knuckles. You felt your face heat up as you watched his movement, butterflies in your stomach.

“May I ask what your name is?”

You nodded and told him your name, your voice slightly shaky.

Translations: Sorella…Sister Mi dispiace…I’m sorry Cazzo…Shit Per favore…Please

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[octuscle]

Hey Chronivac, on my way home today I drove past a fancy hotel and saw a super hot and hunky valet outside it. Is there a way that I could use this to become his equally hunky boyfriend or husband?

You are almost 70 years old… You have three failed marriages behind you, each of which has cost you a fortune. And now you come up with the idea of starting something with a valet? Don't take offense, but I do find it a bit strange. But anyway, I've seen worse.

You steer your Bentley convertible into the hotel driveway. Carlos is already walking towards you, eager to be of service. "Welcome, it's nice to have you back with us. May I ask you for the keys to this wonderful car?" You've never been here before… But what a sexy Spanish accent! You give him the key and a 10-dollar bill. And you have to swallow. You have a very dry throat.

With some difficulty and the help of your walking stick, you enter the lobby. You go to the concierge and ask to speak to the personnel manager. When asked who he might report, you reply "James Miller, it's about something private". While you wait in the lobby for an answer, you look in the mirror. Yes, there are already a few gray strands and a few wrinkles around your eyes. But for someone in their mid-50s, you don't look bad at all. Lots of exercise and a healthy diet, you think contentedly. The concierge asks you to take the elevator to the fourth floor.

You're already a little nervous. You haven't had a job interview for a long time. And at your early 40s, you're probably a bit too old to be a parking attendant. You clutch your application folder with white knuckles. But the secretary in the HR department smiles kindly at you, asks you to take a seat and offers you a drink of water. Out of sheer nervousness, you reply with "Gracias". She laughs and says that the conversation will be conducted in English. You laugh back. With your gleaming white teeth, you can iron out any embarrassment.

The door to the meeting room opens. The last applicant is a spotty beanpole. At least visually you have the best chance. The secretary invites you in. The personnel manager smiles at you, you shake his hand and smile back. "Well, Mr. Molinero, the first lesson today is that you don't shake my hand, I shake yours. You never shake hands with a guest unless they do it first. Do we understand each other? You swallow. Carlos wasn't exaggerating. This is a strict place. But it's also the best hotel in town. "Mr. Molinero, is Carlos your brother? You have the same surname." You reply that you are often mistaken for brothers. But you are actually married. "Delightful!" replies the personnel manager. And then you go through your CV.

The interview felt like it took three hours. In fact, it was just 20 minutes. The HR manager stands up and shakes your hand. He laughs as you shake his hand. "Good strong handshake. I like that. Welcome to the team. Rebecca will sort out all the formalities with you, Diego. And for the rest, I'll just rely on Carlos to introduce them well.

You never get a second chance to make a first impression. And Carlos and you are often the first to give an impression of "your" hotel. You are professionals. You know your way around cars, are excellent drivers and know the local area like the back of your hand. Yes, the pay is really bad, but the tips are royal. Carlos actually once inherited the Bentley convertible of a guest he'd never seen before or since. Of course you didn't keep it. But you were able to use the proceeds from the sale to buy a beach house in your Mexican homeland.

And if things aren't going well enough, you can always work extra shifts as a waiter by the pool. Your suntan lotion massages are famous!