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threeacttragedy · 2 days ago

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Entry 18: The One Where Two Roads Diverged in a Wood of GIFs and Written Words

“Lukola Crisis Hotline. How may I be of service?”

Me: Houston, we have a problem.

Dad: Do tell!

Me: You won’t believe who showed up last night! –

Dad: Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Whoa! I don’t know what to say! Wait – let me grab my Coke and my smokes. <waiting> Okay, I’m back. So, Misty appeared out of nowhere with Thang?! Well, this just got fun! <laughing>

For clarity’s sake, my father tends to give everyone a pet name. Some of the pet names are funny; some are quite cruel. But if they help him remember who the players are in this fandom (and in any other situation), I’m game to play along. Plus, his pet names tend to add a little comedy relief to whatever is being discussed, especially when it is not an outwardly funny subject.

In Lukola-Land, Luke is “Thang” (it’s actually “Thing” – as in the hand from The Addams Family – but my dad’s accent muddles the pronunciation into “Thang”); Nicola is “Ireland,” for obvious reasons; Antonia is “Misty,” for, umm, the Clint Eastwood movie, “Play Misty for Me;” and Jake is – well, Jake is actually just “Jake” because my father finds the USS Jakola offensive. In fact, when I was discussing the recent fandom events with him on Friday evening, my dad was genuinely shocked to learn the Jakolas still existed. His pet name for the Jakolas is “Fucking Stupid,” by the way.

Moving on to the matter at hand –

There’s been so much “noise” over the past few weeks that, when taken collectively, it is rather eye-opening. We’ve got Luke’s mother posting on Facebook about “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus.” The leaked funeral video and photos (by allegedly Luke’s family). The Best in Show pap pictures of Nicola and Jake. The “just friends” interview. The disappearance of Jake (because he’s rehearsing for a play) and the sudden reemergence of Antonia.

If you’ve noticed from my recent entries on this blog, I have obviously found most of what has happened of late to be comical and not worth putting into written word. Instead, my thoughts have been dumped into GIF stories. To be honest, I was rather disappointed I couldn’t put this last part – Antonia emerging from the misty edges of the forest – entirely into a GIF story. Her reappearance was like a certain Bond villain coming back to life for the seventh time. In other words, it was total cringe. But it also altered an otherwise slow burning campfire into a motherfucking forest fire.

Me: Thoughts?

Dad: I need some time to think about this one – and a cigarette. Or two. Call me back in 15 minutes.

“Psychotic Fan Rescue Center, at your service.”

Me: You’re a dumbass.

Dad: <laughing> Well, this is insane. It makes no sense and it’s a convoluted mess. Why bring Misty back? She was killed off two seasons ago.

Me: No shit, Sherlock.

Dad: Hell, maybe this has all been a nest of vipers.

A nest of vipers? Ah, yes, the idea that we have a group of venomous snakes thrown into the same close-quartered trench – in an every-man-for-himself type situation – each taking strikes at the others whenever their backs are turned.

In Entries 1, 13, and 15 – with an emphasis on “Entry 13: The One Where the Ashes Blew Towards Us with the Salt Wind from the Sea” – I wrote about what the Lutonia narrative could look like, if real. I will not rehash in detail those entries here, but I will link them at the end of this entry if you want to read, or reread, them.

Now, the General Audience almost certainly didn’t pay a lick of attention to Antonia when she appeared alongside Luke at the Boss event held January 30 (she’s always just been a Face in the Crowd). But the sudden reappearance of Antonia stopped the Lukolas dead in their tracks because – like my dad said – she was seemingly killed off two seasons ago.

The Lukolas have suddenly found themselves at an intersection of confusion and, likely, a bit of distress. The long and winding road we’ve been traveling along has diverged into two paths – and, no, you cannot travel both.

The problem with the Lutonia narrative has always been that Luke has never formally acknowledged Antonia as his girlfriend. In fact, Luke had the perfect opportunity to do so when he posted about the Boss event on his Instagram grid – but he did not. I could rationalize the idea that Luke and Antonia wanted to keep their relationship private after the Papsmear misstep if it weren’t for the fact that Antonia has been historically loud in her social media posts. We spent the summer and fall with insinuation post after insinuation post from Antonia. Yes, all those posts that alluded to her being with Luke without any actual evidence that she was, in fact, with Luke. By the time Antonia got to “Pasta-gate” in mid-November, the Lukola fandom barely even blinked before dismissing her as, well, the antagonist from “Play Misty for Me.” And this leads to something even more problematic for the USS Lutonia – Luke has never rescued Antonia from being ridiculed and torn apart by the fandom. My dad would call – and has called – Luke a cad for this.

Jumping to the other side of this misshapen triangle, we have Nicola and her Assassin (my dad’s pet name for JVN). Assuming Lutonia is real, the only logical answer for Nicola’s behavior is that she has spent months trolling Luke, Antonia, and <gasp> the fandom. Nicola herself has admitted to being chronically online and, at a minimum, being aware of fan edits – so much so that during the London premiere she commented that she and Luke “can’t do anything” without the fandom reacting to it. Therefore, I will call “foul” on anyone who tries to persuade me that Nicola was unaware of, at a minimum, how the Lukola fandom had reacted to the Claddagh ring, Chaos Week, and the October airplane posts. JVN openly mocking Antonia on social media with, for example, their Slick Back Bun routine only added fuel to this fire.

For shits and giggles – and so I can get to the bend in this road – we will roll with my dad’s “Nest of Vipers” theory for a moment. We will concede that Lutonia is real, which, in my opinion, makes Luke the absolute worst boyfriend in London and Antonia a woman who doesn’t mind being treated like roadkill. It also, unfortunately, makes Nicola and Fan Favorite JVN come off like online bullies – with the only plausible reasoning for the bullying being that Luke and Nicola are at odds with each other. No, I take that back – they’re not at odds with each other – they’re seemingly at war with each other. I’ll even amp this up a bit and throw in the suggestion that, assuming Lutonia is real, Netflix & Co. is aware of the strife between its two Polin actors and are protecting their asset with blurred Polin-Lukola posts to pacify the fandom. Dun-Dun-DUNN! And yes! That was a sly nod to Jake.

Me: Thanks for that. You just made Luke into an absolute prick and gave Antonia’s starring role in “Play Misty for Me” to Nicola.

Dad: Hey, I’m not the one who dug up Misty! That was all Thang!

Me: Then why does everyone say Luke is the nicest person? Nicola, his co-stars –

Dad: All lies.

Me: Would you STOP?!

Dad: But I’m serious! Thang could be a complete pig behind closed doors and Ireland could be on the verge of a psychotic meltdown because, uhh, maybe she’s obsessed with Thang and pissed he chose Misty.

The unfortunate thing about this Nest of Vipers theory is that I could almost certainly make a convincing argument that it was legit. I’ve always joked with my Inner Circle of Lukolas that no one wants to see me go rogue, especially not – I’ll bite my tongue on that one. But I will emphasize the importance of keeping an open mind when you’re reviewing information. Always consider both sides of the coin. That said, it’s hard to ignore the evidence that was presented to us through the World Tour interviews and behind-the-scenes footage; therefore –

Me: I’m having a hard time believing Luke is someone who wouldn’t protect his girlfriend. He seems to support Nicola online quite a bit. Why wouldn’t he do the same for Antonia?

Dad: <laughing> Fine. Antonia isn’t his girlfriend. Maybe it’s all just a bunch of fuckery like I’ve always said.

“Fuckery” is my dad’s pet name for PR bullshit. If you didn’t pick up on it in previous entries, I am not fond of PR theories. But I also cannot ignore that PR relationships do exist and have for decades (hell, we could go back centuries and find examples of PR relationships across multiple noble and royal families – think about that, naysayers). It was my dad who first sold me on the possibility of Antonia being PR. So, I will consider this road to PR-ville in the same manner as I did the Nest of Vipers theory – with this PR theory having perhaps the better claim.

I mentioned earlier that the General Audience almost certainly paid little attention to Antonia’s existence at the Boss event. Although some people may find what I’m about to say a bit unkind, it doesn’t make it any less valid (and I’m not saying it to be cruel): Antonia, in the overall scheme of things, is of very little importance to the General Audience. She has less than 15 thousand followers on Instagram, even after being connected to a man who has almost three million. However, oddly enough, that didn’t prevent the Daily Mail from dropping a story which predominantly focused on Antonia within the same timeframe that images from the Boss event were being dropped on the Internet. It also didn’t prevent video footage of Luke and Antonia at the Boss event from being leaked online almost immediately – even when there were undoubtedly more famous celebrities attending the event. I’ll be realistic with this next comment, too: Luke may be relevant to the Bridgerton fandom, but that does not mean he is significant to, say, People Magazine’s average reader. So, why the sudden burst of publicity at this event?

I waited to write this entry to see what Luke did with the exposure from the Boss event. Would he finally put Antonia on his Instagram grid? Would he put her in his Instagram stories? Would Antonia post pictures from the event on her Instagram grid or stories? Would Luke unambiguously acknowledge a relationship with Antonia?

Although Luke posted to his Instagram grid and stories about the event, he did not include Antonia – at least not directly. The closest he came to including Antonia was via an Instagram story – on which he did not tag her – of a black screen with a link to a Boss TikTok that included images of Luke and Antonia from the event. The TikTok did not tag Antonia either. Luke did not post Antonia’s image to his grid or his stories.

And Antonia didn’t post about the event at all.

I wasn’t sold on a PR narrative when I started writing this entry, but my eyebrows raised when I saw Luke’s “black screen” Instagram story. This was either Luke attempting to circumvent the Lutonia narrative while throwing Antonia a bone, or it was Luke being an absolute douche of a human being. And, if it’s the latter, Mr. Newton needs to check himself into Assholes Anonymous.

I will concede that a couple of mutuals put up a few stories about the event (which disappeared after 24 hours) and Boss included (and tagged) Luke and Antonia in an Instagram and TikTok reel – without formally identifying Antonia as Luke’s girlfriend. On a side note, Luke could have reposted either of these reels – which tagged Antonia – but he did not. Luke also did not like this Boss Instagram reel with Antonia in it (and he does not have a public TikTok account), but Luke did like a separate Boss post of him and David Beckham (without Antonia). The only news outlets that called Antonia Luke’s “girlfriend” were rag-mags like the Daily Mail and Hello, both of which put an emphasis on Antonia. Digital Spy noted that Luke and Antonia “have yet to officially confirm their relationship.” So outside of some tagged reels (that weren’t reposted or acknowledged by Luke) and rag-mag speculation, what did Antonia get from this?

Dad: Publicity.

A single word but one that resonates throughout an otherwise silent wood.

But to be honest, I’m not entirely convinced this was for publicity. I’m not saying I believe Antonia is Luke’s girlfriend either – that’s a whole cauldron of contradictions on its own. I’m simply intrigued that Antonia has her Instagram tags turned off and she has not yet allowed any Boss event tags to appear on her page. So, outside of some junky rag-mag callouts and a few TikToks, what benefit did Antonia receive? And, if Antonia didn’t truly benefit from this appearance (or, at least she doesn’t appear to be reaping the rewards from a girlfriend or PR standpoint), who did benefit?

I mentioned at the beginning of this post that a series of events had happened one after the other over a relatively short two-week period: (1) Luke’s mum mentioning “Luke’s girlfriend…from Cyprus” in a Facebook response; (2) leaked video and photos of Luke from a funeral; (3) those utterly ridiculous pap pictures of Nicola and Jake; (4) Nicola stating she and Luke were “just friends” in an interview; and (5) the sudden summoning of Antonia after exactly six months of being MIA.

As I sat here writing out the events of the past two weeks – and considering the reappearance of Antonia – I couldn’t help but speculate as to whether each of these events was meant to have a specific purpose that didn’t get its desired result.

The comment by Luke’s mother was so far out in left field, most Lukolas chucked it up to being suspicious and dismissed it as such. The funeral pictures and video released by one of Luke’s family members was quickly scrubbed from social media; therefore, just as quickly ignored. The pap pictures of Nicola and Jake were openly mocked across social media as being staged. The “just friends” comment – after almost a year of, particularly, Nicola dodging that phrase – didn’t seem to send many Lukolas overboard. Is it possible that the fandom’s mild reaction to all these events wasn’t anticipated? Which leads me to wonder if Luke and Nicola wanted a reaction and realized the only way they were going to get it was to play the only card they had left – Antonia.

When you look at the above referenced events individually and collectively, they appear to indicate a push to shut down the Lukola narrative. Why?

They could have shut down the Lukolas before the World Tour even took off. They could have shut down the Lukolas during the World Tour. They could have shut down the Lukolas after Papsmear. Why wait almost a full year to draw the line in the sand? Especially after every devoted Lukola would argue that (mostly) Nicola has left a trail of Swiftie-like clues to insinuate Lukola is real, and that Luke has made a visible effort to remove Antonia from his narrative.

Whatever the reasoning may be, we must admit Antonia’s reappearance had a purpose – and one that we need to respect. I have a hard time believing Luke would voluntarily step in the same pile of dog shit he stepped in back in June without a valid and significant reason for doing so.

And this is where I will draw the line.

I will not speculate further about why Antonia suddenly rose from the ashes of Manderley – and I will not tell you which road to take from here. That’s something you need to do on your own but, be warned that regardless of which road you choose – the one where you conclude Luke and Antonia are a couple, or the one where you decide Antonia is playing the role of PR distraction – the Lukolas are currently fighting a losing battle.

The Lukolas have become collateral damage. They’ve either been caught in the crossfire of an online war between Luke and Nicola (and their respective sidekicks) over, presumably, Antonia; or they’re the unwitting victims of some messy PR bullshit that has resulted in Lukolas being bullied across every social media platform by rabid Jakolas and Anti-Lukes.

Amazingly, though, many Lukolas remain resilient.

When the going gets tough…

But sometimes the tough don’t get going.

Yesterday, someone wrote to me, “Why are we still here? Just when we think something good is finally going to happen we get pushed back down. I’m tired of the dumb games.”

I rarely answer “Asks,” but my response to this comment is:

“Two roads diverged in a wood…”

Two roads.

One road is quite disheartening and the other is shrouded in underbrush.

But what you've overlooked is that there is an alternate path – a third road – the one that brought you to this point.

Turn around.

That road takes you back home – and, if you’re ready to go home, go home. It’s okay. It takes an unbelievable amount of courage to admit you’ve had enough. Remember that saying – “A wise woman once said, ‘fuck this shit,’ and she lived happily ever after.”

Take your time and decide what makes the most sense to you.

Dad: What are you thinking?

Me: Of a poem.

Dad: Oh, which one today?

Me: “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by…”

Dad: Which road is that…?

P.S. Just for a bit of comic relief at the end of an otherwise somber post (not even Dad could make it lighthearted), I just wanted to say:

I love eating grapes.

IYKYK.

Those links I promised:

#lukola #luke newton #nicola coughlan #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only #my humor #did you see what i did here?#grapes anonymous

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aakeysmash · 2 days ago

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Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

#farmer au #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk fics #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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grvait · 1 day ago

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more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)

im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter

I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..

tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)

prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING

you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit

ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)

we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it

as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS

what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.

think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL

so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time

i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that

in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.

also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.

so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)

anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.

hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...

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carisc4pshaw · 1 day ago

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Morning delays

In which Spencer and Fem!Reader are late for work yet again because Spencer can’t keep his hands off her. (Smut!)

word count: 1.3k

tags: porn without plot, Smut, co workers, late to work, love, boyfriend&girlfriend, long term couple, showering together, sex, intimacy, P in V, unprotected P in V, Minor breeding kink, raw sex, 18+, fingering (f receiving), mentions of oral sex (f receiving), nipple play.

warnings: 18+!! whole thing is smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them guys!)

notes: I don’t think I missed any tags anyway this is the most sexual thing ever written so I hope you horny people enjoy it.

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

Just before you and Spencer had fallen asleep last night you had set the alarm for 7 am, it probably wasn’t enough time to get ready in the morning but you had a late night watching a movie with your long-term boyfriend not that either you saw much of it because before you got to the halfway point Spencer was on his knees between your thighs sucking your clit and circling your entrance, sliding his tongue into you until you had reached multiple orgasms.

You were certain the alarm hadn’t gone off yet because usually that would wake you straight away but today you were awoken to your boyfriend’s hands up your shirt resting on your breasts and tweaking with your hard-ish nipples.

“What time is it?” You asked Spencer with a soft moan.

“Almost 7 am.”

“Baby we don’t have time, the alarm is about to go off,” You moaned halfway through what you were saying.

One of Spencer’s hands slid down your stomach, “You want me to stop?”

“Well no…”

“Is your pussy already wet for me darling?” Spencer whispered into your ear. He wasn’t one for dirty talk all the time but when he did it the throbbing between your legs was only ever worse. You needed him badly and by the feel of things, he needed you too.

You nodded, “Yes Spence.”

“Can I feel?” His hand still moving lower.

“Yes,” With your signal he slid his hand under the waistband of your panties avoiding your clit as he ran a finger through your folds to collect your wetness, “Mhm Spence.”

“Beautiful, you’re so wet,” He spoke just before the alarm went off. With one quick movement, he took his hand from your panties and switched the alarm off before positioning himself between your legs.

His large hands landed on your waist gripping you firmly. He leaned down attaching his lips to a nipple swirling his tongue around it for a couple of minutes until moving on to the next.

His mouth pulled away from your nipple with a loud pop. He rested his hands at the side of your hips playing with the lace of your underwear.

“Can I take them off now?” He looked straight into your eyes.

“Please,” You said with a breathy sigh.

Spencer pulled them off leaving them somewhere in the room, you’d find them later.

“What do you want?” Spencer asked, one of his hands running from your waist to your hip back and forth.

Your eyes trailed between the both of you where you could see his erection through his boxers.

“I want that,” You smiled sweetly and innocently.

“What?” Spencer smirked.

“Your dick.”

Spencer nodded, “Let me warm you up first.”

With that, he pushed your legs further apart his hands resting on the apex of your thighs, his thumbs nudging your folds due to the size of his hands.

He used one of his left thumb to run back and forth over your closed folds.

“Stop teasing we don’t have much time.”

Without another word he plunged his index finger inside of you, quickly curling it inside of you knowing exactly where your most pleasurable spot was.

“Oh my god. Spence another!” You moaned with a little shout.

“Yes baby,” Spencer pushed his middle finger inside, pulling them out a small way to push them back in much harder hitting your g-spot as hard as he could.

You reached down between you pressing two fingers to your clit and rubbing it in a quick motion.

“Oh fuck, Spencer don’t stop,” You moaned loudly throwing your head back.

Right as you felt your walls begin to tighten around his fingers and that familiar coil in your stomach he pulled his fingers out leaving your core pulsing around nothing.

“What the fuck babe,” You groaned. You were frustrated, the tears began to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry, it just happened when you were frustrated or in this case when you couldn’t reach your peak of pleasure apparently.

“Hey no baby don’t cry,” Spencer wiped the tears from your eyes, “I’m going to make you cum I promise.”

“Why did you stop?” You frowned.

“I wanted you to cum when I was inside of you,” He ran his hand down your hair.

“Oh.”

“Is that okay?” Spencer asked giving you a kiss.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” You reached for his boxers pulling them down just enough that his erection sprung out of them before he discarded the material completely.

“How do you want me?” Spencer asked.

You blushed biting your lip, “Like always.”

“Honey, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

You hid your face in his neck, “Raw,” You muttered.

Spencer smirked, you usually did it like that now that you had been together for three years and knew you were both clean but he loved hearing you say it.

He rested his dick against your folds rubbing the tip against your clit to relax you again after leaving you without an orgasm a few minutes ago.

You loved how his veins felt against you when he did that but right now you just craved him filling the empty space inside of you.

“Please,” You stared into his hazel eyes that were clouded with lust.

You breathed in deeply as he pushed the head inside of you slowly, his fingers coming to your clit to help as he entered you. He wasn’t too girthy but he had length and his head always stretched you out the perfect amount that you experienced a slight tweak of pain before the rush of pleasure.

Spencer wasted no time in picking up the pace pounding in and out of you quickly since you really had to be leaving soon, mornings were always for rougher faster sex and the evenings were for when he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body.

His tip grazed the nerves inside of you with every thrust and that partnered with the firm circles on your clit you knew you weren’t going to last very long.

“Close already honey?” Spencer moaned feeling your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck! Mhm,” You couldn’t speak anymore without a sting of moans leaving your mouth.

“Good girl, hold it, I’m almost there,” Spencer thrust harder, your skin slapping together and your hips colliding.

“Spence please,” You moaned.

“Yes okay baby okay,” Spencer groaned, “Do you want me to pull out?”

“No inside please.”

Two more thrusts and you came around his dick just before he spilled his seed deep inside of you.

“You’re so beautiful,” Spencer kissed your forehead which had a few beads of sweat on it.

“You felt so good,” You couldn’t help biting your lip and giving him a satisfied look.

“So did you sweetheart. I’m going to pull out okay?”

You nodded as he pressed his thumb against your clit only to make small circles as he removed himself from you. It was slightly overstimulating but you knew he was just caring for you and nothing more.

“We are so late, we still need to shower,” You said looking over at the clock.

“I thought we could shower at work, you know training is first on the schedule you’re just going to get sweaty again,” Spencer shrugged getting up from the bed to find the pieces of discarded clothing.

“Excuse me? I’m showering before we leave,” You said with your eyes widening.

“Why?” He asked and you hoped he was reading.

“Because we smell of sex, from last night and this morning and I have ropes of your cum inside of me.”

Spencer smirked, “Leave it there, that’s pretty hot.”

“You’re insane,” You rolled your eyes and got up from the bed.

“I was kidding, take a shower but I do like the thought of me being inside of you like that.”

Again you rolled your eyes, walking toward the bathroom, “Are you joining? We will save time and water.”

“If I ever say no to that question, know there’s something wrong with me,” Spencer said following you through to the bathroom.

————————-❤️‍🔥—————————

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 day ago

Text

When You're Ready

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: being a single mom, the hard side of being a parent, overstimulation?

Summary: Being a single mother hasn’t always been easy, and life catches up to you whether you want it to or not. You have so much on your plate that you’re not even thinking about being in a relationship. Spencer likes you and he makes it clear that he’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.

Square Filled: huddle for warmth for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Today could not be any worse than it is right now. You didn’t have time to brush your hair, you barely got your teeth brushed, your clothes are wrinkly because you forgot to iron them last night, the heater is broken in your house so all your daughter does is complain that it’s too cold, and you’re trying to get both her and yourself ready for the day.

“Mama, I’m hungry!” she whines.

“Food is coming, baby,” you say.

As you try not to cry, you plate more breakfast for her and set it on her tray. She immediately digs into the pancakes like she’s never been fed before. The TV is blaring in the living room as it plays yet another episode of Spongebob, her favorite TV show. Right now, that little sponge is giving you a massive headache. The coffee machine beeps for the tenth time, and you have an overwhelming urge to chuck it out the window. The machine has been broken for quite some time now but will make a cup of coffee every once in a while.

Today is not one of those days.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings and you just about stop and cry right there. What now? Who could this possibly be while you’re already running late for work? You leave Casey in the kitchen and walk to the front door. On the way, you almost slip on one of her toys, and you kick it harder than you should have. You open the front door and see your housekeeper standing there. You barely have enough to pay her since you had to downgrade a bunch of stuff since the divorce, but she stayed and accepted the new salary.

You’re honestly not sure what you would do without her.

“Oh, Shelly, it’s you.”

“Rough morning?” Tears well in your eyes at her question because you’re forced to think how this morning has been in a sea of bad ones. “Oh, Y/N, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here now.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and close the door behind her. You turn down the TV so that you don’t have to shout at Shelly. “Um, Casey has a field trip today. I looked at the weather and it’s going to be cold so make sure she packs a jacket. She’ll fight it but make sure she has one, okay?”

“Y/N, how long have I been looking after this little girl? I’ll be okay. Don’t you have work?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Here, let me.”

She fixes your hair until it looks presentable, and you give her a warm smile.

“Thank you. The coffee machine is broken. I’ll pick one up on the way home.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a new one. I have a few other things to pick up at the store.”

“Okay. Bye, Casey! Mommy is off to work. I love you!”

“I love you!” she sings back.

Despite how hard it’s being a single mom, she always brings a smile to your face. Not only is it hard being a single mom, but you work in the FBI where your job is demanding and requires a lot out of you. It’s why you needed to hire Shelly. Before, she was here because your ex-husband paid to have her clean the house. You both had jobs and weren't home enough to keep up with it. Now with Casey, she’s a blessing in disguise.

Hotch makes it look so easy. Since Haley was killed, he’s been doing a good job at raising his son and being the Unit Chief. He has Beth and Haley’s sister, but it’s just him most of the time. You have no one but Shelly, and she only comes three times a week. Casey’s father fled the second you told him you were pregnant so you had to do this entire thing by yourself. All Casey knows is the team because you have them over ever so often.

She’s more familiar with Hotch since he brings Jack over for playdates because they are around the same age. Though, she loves Spencer more than anyone on the team. You’re only friends with him but he’s expressed interest in you. He’s made it clear that you’re on his mind, but you can’t be dating right now. There’s no time for boyfriends or flings or whatever Spencer would be. Your life is too complicated. Add in a toddler and a lawsuit for child support, and it’s too much for someone else to handle.

You told him this much, and he seems okay with being your friend. You still catch him watching you and blushing when you give him a compliment, but he’s been respectful of your boundaries.

You walk into work and notice everyone inside the briefing room. You practically throw your shit down on your desk and run to the briefing room.

“So sorry I’m late. Traffic,” you white-lie.

“It’s okay. We’re just going over updates on our cases and finishing files,” Hotch says.

The B Team must be out right now, and you sag your shoulders in relief. You need a chill day right now more than anything. After a rundown of the open cases, you take yours back to your desk to get started on them. Spencer does the same but he approaches your desk from the front.

You barely look up at him. “Oh, hey, Spencer.”

“Rough morning?” You scoff but don’t say anything. You don’t want to hurt his feelings. “How is Casey doing?”

“She’s good. She has a field trip today at the aquarium.”

Spencer is about to say a fact when he sees the look on your face. Maybe he shouldn’t be himself right now.

“That should be fun.” Again, you don’t respond. All you want to do is focus on your work and not on the headache you have. Instead of going back to his desk, he sits next to yours. “You know, if you ever need someone to watch Casey, I’m more than happy to do it. Even for an entire weekend. It’ll give you time to yourself.” You stop typing and look at him. “Only if it’s okay with you, of course. Or maybe I can come over and hang with her while you get some sleep or something.”

“What are you doing?”

“What? I’m just trying to help.”

It’s the way he said it that makes your back crack under the pressure. You know he doesn’t deserve this but you’re saying it anyway because he’s here.

“You’re not her father, Spencer!”

“I know, but--”

“Look, that’s nice of you to offer but I have been raising her by myself since she was born. Even before she was born. I didn’t need help then and I don’t need it now. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

You gather your finished files and walk away from your desk. Tears threaten to spill but you won’t let it. Not now.

“Okay,” Spencer says, his voice small.

Yep, you hate yourself now. Truth be told, he kind of scares you. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man, and that scares you. He’s safe and predictable and dependable, everything you never had, not even with Casey’s father. He messed you up so badly that you learned you can’t depend on anyone for anything.

Not even Spencer.

After putting your files away, you slip into the bathroom and just cry. All this stress shouldn’t be good for you. The bathroom door opens and you immediately wipe the tears away. JJ frowns when she sees the tears, and you splash some water on your face to get the redness to go away.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I was just wondering if you could come over to my place at two instead of four. Will is having his boys come at two, and I figured my girls could be there at the same time to get coordinated with them.”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you forgot about my wedding. It’s next weekend. You’re my maid of honor.”

Shit. You completely forgot about that. You’ve been so focused on not breaking down that her wedding has completely slipped your mind.

“No, I didn't forget.” You wince at the lie. “Okay, it slipped my mind, but I will be there. Two, not four.” You’re about to leave when you remember Shelly telling you she is going out of town next weekend. You don’t have money for a babysitter. “Would it be okay if I brought Casey? Shelly is going to be out of town.”

“Yes, the more the merrier. I love Casey, and I know Henry does, too.”

“Thank you, JJ,” you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m just stressed is all. I don’t think I slept more than a few hours each night, my hair needs a cut, I need an everything shower, and I don’t have time to do any of it.”

“Yeah, motherhood can be tough.”

“Tell me about it. Not to mention, I think I might have hurt Spencer’s feelings. I yelled at him. He’s just trying to help.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it. What did he say?”

“He offered to look after Casey for a weekend.”

“It might be good to take him up on the offer.”

You shrug. “I gotta get back to work.” You leave the bathroom and notice Spencer at his own desk. “Spencer?” He looks up and smiles when he sees you, making you feel even worse than you do. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or said those things.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. You were just trying to help.”

“The offer still stands if and when you want to use it. Think about it.”

The rest of the week is pretty chill since the B Team is still out, giving you and Spencer more time to strengthen your relationship. He shows up to work with an extra coffee, a breakfast sandwich, and a smile just for you. He wants to make sure you eat because that’s the only thing he can do right now to help you.

On the day of the wedding, you know he is going to be right there in the audience. He agreed to look after Casey while you stand next to JJ, so you’re getting her dressed in her pretty pink sparkle dress.

“So, while Mommy is up with Aunt JJ, you’re going to be seated next to Spencer in the audience. Right there in the front.”

“I like Spencer,” she grins.

You smooth down your hair and smile. “Me, too.”

“Are you gonna marry him?”

“No,” you laugh.

“I bet he’d make a great dad.”

You choose not to say anything to that and lead her down the aisle where Spencer is seated. The wedding is located in JJ’s own backyard, but it’s perfect. It’s everything she’s ever wanted and more. Casey has a strict bedtime but the wedding goes past that, so naturally, she gets cranky by the time the reception happens. She’s hungry and restless, two things a toddler should never be at the same time.

“Just another hour and I promise, we can go home. I promised JJ we’d be here.”

“I’m hungry, Mama, and I’m bored.”

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

You look up and see Spencer approaching you two.

“Sorry, she skipped her nap today, and it’s past her bedtime. She’s just bored.”

“May I?” You nod. “Hey, Casey? Would you like to dance? Just one, and then maybe we can get some cake.”

“Okay,” she grins.

Spencer takes her to the dancefloor while you stay seated at one of the tables. He whispers something to her and she eagerly steps onto his shoes. He dances around in circles with her on his shoes, and she giggles happily. It doesn’t matter how much of a shitty week you’ve been having. She’s smiling and laughing and that means you’re doing a pretty damn good job. Spencer picks her up and holds her close so he can dance properly, and she leans her head on his chest.

Would it be so bad to let him in? Maybe not, but you’re clearly not in the headspace for it. Is he willing to wait? You don’t want to keep him from other relationships even though it doesn’t look like he’s rushing to be in one.

After two songs are over, Spencer lets her down. He whispers something to her and she runs off in search of either Henry, Jack, or both. He walks over to you and holds out his hand.

“Care to dance?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You grab his hand and he brings you to the dancefloor. The next song is a slow one, so he pulls you in close to him. One hand in yours and the other low on your back. Has he always smelled this good?

“Thank you for what you did. She likes you a lot.”

“I like her a lot.” He dips his head lower so that his forehead barely touches the top of your head. “I like her mother, too.” Your heart thumps but in a good way. It’s like everyone else around you disappears until it’s only you and Spencer. “I’ll wait however long you need me to.”

You look up at him with tears. “What?”

“If time and space is what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just know that I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“You might be waiting a while,” you whisper.

“I’m a patient man.”

You rest your head on Spencer’s chest and let the music guide you. He runs his hand up and down your back, creating a safe and warm aura about him.

“You make me feel safe,” you whisper.

Whether he hears it or not, he doesn’t respond. He just continues to dance with you long after the song has ended.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds angst

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triplefrontierbabe · 3 days ago

Text

2 Hands Lando Norris Imagine

smau linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: suggestive content, language

a/n: this is part of a request paired with a smau, linked above

Ask any woman what their favorite part of a man is and she will most likely say his hands. There’s just something so innocently sensual about man hands, especially if they’re the hands of a racing driver.

It’s no secret that using your significant other as inspiration for your work is one of the highest forms of flattery, especially when it comes to art. And ever since you met Lando Norris, he has been your muse for your work. Every song somehow suddenly was about him, he’s all you thought about. Now that your second world tour has come to an end it’s the perfect time to get back in the studio and you have the perfect idea of what to do.

To be honest, one of the first things you noticed about Lando was his hands and how they looked like they were carved from marble. The mere sight of him holding a coffee cup made your mind wander like no other. All you could think of was how his hands looked on your body and how he would touch you with such gentleness and care. Occasionally you’d sneak a photo of his hands while you were around him. Soon enough he realized the obsession of his hands that you had developed.

One night you and Lando were heading out for a nice dinner when you pulled out your phone to take a photo of you two in the elevator mirror. Lando immediately grabbed your phone out of your hands and moved his hand from your hips to the front of your stomach, and dangerously low might you add. You blushed at his actions, knowing your not so secret obsession had been found out.

“I know you like them.” Lando said cheekily handing the phone back to you as your face broke out in a blush yet again.

“Can you blame me though?” You asked, grabbing his right hand and examining the rings he had on. Those rings were another weakness of yours. The way the cool metal clashed with your burning skin made your whole body shiver. His hands were going to be the death of you.

“Write a song, it’ll last longer.” He responded with a mischievous smile as the elevator door opened. You looked over your shoulder at him and rolled your eyes.

“You know I just might, Norris.” You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Atta girl.” He said laying a light smack on your ass which earned a whispered scold from you.

A song about his hands is exactly what you wrote. The writing process for this song was probably the fastest you had ever written a song in your entire life. Your producer was shocked when you got to the studio and had to make minor changes to the lyrics, it was practically perfect– like Lando’s hands.

While Lando was halfway across the world for a race you facetimed him to play a demo of the song for him.

“You mean it?” He asked, looking at your face on his screen with a look of disbelief.

“Every word.” You simply replied, giving Lando a sly smile.

“What about a music video?” Lando inquired, shifting in his seat.

“Okay, hear me out” you began “I was thinking about incorporating cars into it somehow, maybe a McLaren or something.”

“A McLaren, huh?”

“I dunno, just a thought. Could be a fun little easter egg.” You responded by shrugging your shoulders while stealing a glance at his hands that were barely in sight on the phone.

Before you knew it music video rehearsals had arrived. On your first day of rehearsal you walked into the studio to see a box wrapped in bright orange- or papaya- wrapping paper with a big blue bow on top. There was a card attached that read ‘although this isn’t a sports car, i hope this gives you some inspiration ;) -4’. Lando had gifted you one of those battery operated kids’ McLaren F1 cars.

Another month had passed of working on 2 Hands but it was finally ready to be promoted, and so was your relationship with Lando. Since you started dating him, small easter eggs of your relationship had been sprinkled throughout your instagram posts.

But the post you made announcing that you had new music coming out, you decided to be bold. You included a picture of you on the toy car that had Lando’s number on the front. But the kryptonite of the post was the last picture which was a closeup of Lando with his hands on his helmet with his hand veins on full display. You had spent hours of looking through social media for the perfect photo of his hands, many thanks to the thousands of other girls who were just as enamored with his hands as you were.

The minute you posted, your phone was blowing up with countless fans speculating a relationship between you and the famed driver but more so, the attention was on his hands like you wanted it to be.

Abu Dhabi rolled around which was a big weekend for the both of you. Lando won the race, McLaren won the Constructors’ Championship and 2 Hands was released. You were with Lando at the hotel basking in his victorious weekend and listening to your new song. It was a perfect weekend and you couldn’t have imagined it to be any other way.

“I fucking love this song.” Lando said, grabbing you by the waist giving you a deep kiss. “But I love you way more.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Lan.” You replied, raking your hands through Lando’s curly hair. “I love how everyone loves your hands too. Did you know there’s pinterest boards dedicated to your hands?”

“Of course there are.” He responded by throwing his hand back in laughter. This moment was perfect, just being in the same room as him celebrating your accomplishments together.

“But, I’m the only one that knows what they feel like.” You said with a wink.

“Well, look at you Miss Possessive.”

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @r0nnsblog @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you

#triplefrontierbabef1 #triplefrontierbaberequest #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris smau #2 hands #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mclaren

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greengoblinswifey · 3 days ago

Text

Nanny Knows Best

pairing— nicholas chavez x bimbo!nanny!reader

summary— Since the first kiss you shared with Nicholas, he’d been avoiding you, so to combat, you teased him relentlessly, having him at your mercy until he snapped.

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40), infidelity, lots of flirting, fluff, strip tease, possessive!nicholas, spanking, finger sucking, fingering, praising, mentions of virginity.

Introduction

Nicholas had been avoiding you.

It started right after the kiss—that slow, intoxicating moment when his hands were on your waist, and his lips molded against yours like he’d been waiting for it forever. But instead of pulling you into his arms again, he pulled away completely. Suddenly, he wasn’t around as much. He wasn’t in the kitchen late at night when you tiptoed in for a snack. He wasn’t watching you from across the playroom, trying and failing to pretend he wasn’t staring.

Instead, he was with Victoria.

You noticed how he started making more of an effort—taking her out, staying in conversation, touching her more. You tried not to care. But when you walked past their bedroom one night, the sound of hushed arguing made you stop in your tracks.

“What is this, Nicholas?” Victoria’s voice was sharp, accusing. “You’re not even into it. You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“Jesus, Victoria, are you serious?” He sounded exhausted, frustrated. “I’m trying here. I’m literally trying, and you’re making up shit in your head.”

Silence.

Your heart pounded.

You shouldn’t have been listening. You should’ve walked away. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t go down.

The next morning, you found Nicholas alone in the living room before the kids woke up, scrolling through his phone, brows furrowed. He barely looked up when you walked in.

It made your stomach twist.

“Mr. Chavez,” you called, your voice was soft. He finally glanced at you, and you shifted on your feet, fingers curling around the hem of your pink crop top. “Are you mad at me?”

His expression softened immediately. He sighed, setting his phone down before leaning forward, elbows on his knees.

“No, honey,” he murmured.

You blinked up at him, lip quivering slightly. “Then why are you acting all weird?”

He ran a hand over his face before reaching for you, big hands cupping your cheeks, his thumb stroking your skin gently. “Because I put you in a position I never should have.” His voice was so low, so careful, and his lips were right there. “That was my fault. Not yours.”

“But I liked it,” you said instantly, eyes wide.

He let out a shaky breath, and for a second, it looked like he was struggling. Like he wanted to kiss you again. Like he needed to.

“It can’t happen again,” he whispered.

Your pout deepened, but you nodded, trying to look like you understood. “Okay. You’re right.”

Before he could say anything else, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself against his broad frame. He stiffened for just a moment before his hands found your back, hesitating—then holding you tight.

Your voice was soft and sultry as you whispered, “Thank you, Mr. Chavez.”

Then you pulled away, giving him one last doe-eyed glance before disappearing down the hall. And Nicholas was left sitting there, dick hard, jaw tight, knowing damn well this wasn’t over.

The next few days, you had Nicholas in a chokehold, and you knew it.

You weren’t doing anything explicitly wrong—just being yourself. A little giggle here, a casual brush against his arm there. The way your fingers smoothed over his shoulder when you walked past him, staying just a little too long. How you bent over a little too slowly when picking up the kids’ toys, or pouted at him like you had no clue why his gaze always dropped right to your boobs.

You played dumb.

And it drove him insane.

One evening, after you’d walked past him wearing a skimpy pajama set, soft pink lace that left little to the imagination—he finally snapped.

“Sweetheart,” he called after you, voice rough.

You turned, blinking up at him innocently. “Yes, Mr. Chavez?”

His jaw clenched. His eyes flickered down your body before meeting yours again. “What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing. What do you mean?” you asked, brows furrowed in feigned confusion.

Nicholas huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. So that’s how you wanted to play it.

“You,” he murmured, voice lower now. “Are trouble.”

You just smiled sweetly. “You’re the one that said it can’t happen again.”

His chuckle was quiet, deep, as he ran a hand over his face. You were messing with him. And worst of all? It was working.

One morning, you sat cross-legged in front of your vanity, doing your makeup while Madison and Alexander sat beside you, watching in awe.

“Pretty,” Madison sighed dreamily. “Want that.” She pointed to the lipgloss you held in your right hand.

You giggled. “Thank you, baby. Wanna try some lip gloss?”

Her eyes lit up. You dabbed a bit of clear gloss on her lips, and she smacked them together excitedly, grinning at her reflection in your pink handheld mirror.

And then Victoria walked by.

Her sharp gasp made you freeze.

“What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

Madison shrunk back. You blinked up at Victoria, confused. “She asked me to—”

“And you just did it?” She scoffed. “She’s a child! She doesn’t need that cheap lip gloss all over her face!”

You exhaled, trying to keep your cool. “Victoria, you know would’ve cried if I didn’t—”

“And why are you even putting on makeup right now?” Her voice rose, cutting you off. “Who are you trying to impress, huh? My husband?”

Your stomach dropped.

Before you could respond, a deeper voice cut through the tension.

“Victoria,” Nicholas warned.

You both turned. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes dark.

“Stop it.” His tone left no room for argument.

She scoffed. “The nanny is putting her cheap lip gloss on my daughter—”

Your jaw clenched, ready to fire back. But instead, you did what you did best.

Your lips quivered. Your eyes all big and filled with tears. Your chin dipped, and you pouted like you were seconds away from crying.

Nicholas melted.

He let out a quiet sigh, stepping forward to cup the back of your head and pull you into his chest.

“Hey,” he cooed, his voice warm, “it’s okay, sweetheart.”

Victoria stiffened. “Are you serious?”

Nicholas barely looked at her. “Take the kids downstairs.”

She clenched her jaw, eyes flickering between the two of you. But she didn’t argue. She just rolled her eyes, huffed, and yanked Madison and Alexander’s hands, pulling them toward the stairs.

The moment she was gone, Nicholas pulled back slightly, tilting your chin up.

“Are you okay?”

Your lips curled into a tiny smile. “I am now that you’re hugging me with your big arms.”

His expression flickered, something passing through his dark gaze. Then you wrapped your arms around him again, pressing yourself against him, your soft hands sliding up his arms and back.

“Mm, you’re so manly,” you moaned, “so big and strong.”

Nicholas tensed.

You felt it—how his muscles tightened, how his chest rose with a slow, deep inhale. How something else pressed against you, solid.

Your lashes fluttered as you tilted your head up, lips hovering just over his chest. “Mr. Chavez,” you murmured.

His hands flexed on your waist.

And you knew you had him.

Nicholas’ grip on your waist tightened. He shouldn’t. But with you pressed so close, warm and soft against him, your scent sweet and intoxicating, his self-control was slipping.

His lips hovered just above your hair as he inhaled deeply, letting your perfume settle in his lungs like a drug. You were ruining him. His fingers flexed at your waist, gripping just a little harder, his pulse pounding in his ears.

He wanted to take you right then and there—right against the vanity, where his wife could walk in at any moment. He wanted to press you against the mirror, tilt your head back, and claim those glossy lips. Claim that pussy he knew was tight and ready for him.

You shifted slightly, your body brushing against him, and Nicholas swore under his breath. His jaw clenched. His resolve was cracking.

Then, just as his head dipped lower to kiss you, as if drawn by some invisible force—you stepped away.

“Well, I’m gonna finish getting ready!” you said brightly, completely unbothered, as if you hadn’t just had him on the verge of losing himself.

Nicholas exhaled sharply, shaking his head, watching as you hopped back to the mirror.

You hummed to yourself as you dusted on a final touch of highlighter, your hips swaying slightly, utterly oblivious to what you’d just done to him.

He let out a rough chuckle, rubbing his hand over his face. “Jesus Christ.”

You turned, blinking up at him. “What?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he muttered, forcing himself to look away.

A bit of silence passed before he cleared his throat. “I, uh—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry about Victoria.”

You turned back to your reflection, carefully applying another layer of your lipliner. “What for?”

“For how she acted,” he said, watching you. “She’s not usually like that.”

You shot him a skeptical look through the mirror. “I find that hard to believe.”

Nicholas sighed, but he didn’t argue.

Victoria left the house in a fury, slamming the door behind her. So it was just you, Nicholas, and the kids.

With Madison on your hip and Alexander perched on the kitchen counter, you set about making your famous baked mac and cheese.

“Okay, little chefs,” you cooed, handing them both a handful of shredded cheese. “Sprinkle it all over, just like this.”

Madison giggled as she clumsily dropped her handful onto the tray, while Alexander, ever the perfectionist, focused like a professional chef.

“You guys are naturals!” you gushed, pressing a dramatic kiss to Alexander’s forehead. He blushed, ducking his head.

“You forgot mine!” Madison pouted.

You gasped playfully. “Oh no, my princess needs a kiss too!” You smothered her chubby cheek in kisses, making her squeal.

As you turned to slide the tray into the oven, you suddenly felt a presence.

Your breath hitched as you spun around—and there was Nicholas, watching.

You placed a hand over your heart. “Mr. Chavez, you scared me!”

“Did I?” he smirked.

“You so were staring at me,” you accused, your other hand holding Madison close.

“I wasn’t,” he said as he cleared his throat, shifting slightly.

“You so were,” Alexander piped up, all too happy to sell his dad out.

Nicholas shot him a look. “Whose side are you on?”

“Y/N’s,” Alexander said proudly, throwing his arms around you.

“Good answer, baby,” you giggled, ruffling his brown hair.

Nicholas exhaled a laugh, but his eyes lingered on you for a bit too long. Because as you stood there, effortlessly balancing his daughter, doting on his son, moving around his kitchen like you belonged—he found himself thinking you’d make a great mother.

A great mother to his children.

And maybe even—more of his children.

Nicholas shook the thought away as Alexander pulled back, still grinning.

“Y/N kissed me and Madison,” he mused. “But what about you, daddy?”

Nicholas raised a brow, amused. “Yeah,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Where’s mine?”

“Yours?” you asked, letting out a giggle.

He turned to Alexander. “Shouldn’t I get a kiss too, buddy?”

Alexander nodded happily. “Yeah! Give daddy a kiss!”

Nicholas smirked, shifting closer. “Yeah, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping. “Give daddy a kiss.”

Your breath caught. For a second, you froze, heart thudding loudly in your chest. Then, before you could second guess yourself, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Nicholas inhaled sharply. You pulled away, all doe-eyed innocence, like you hadn’t just ruined him in a single second.

Then, as if you hadn’t just branded him, you turned back to the oven and chirped, “I hope you’re hungry, Mr. Chavez!”

Nicholas let out a slow, shaky breath, running a hand over his jaw.

Oh, sweetheart.

You had no idea.

Evening settled over the mansion, the warm scent of baked mac and cheese filling the air as you finished plating everyone’s share. Alexander kicked his feet excitedly under the table while Madison clung to your side, eager for her portion.

You scooped up a bite for Alexander, holding the spoon to his lips. “Open up, baby.”

He grinned, taking the bite before giggling. “Mmm! So good!”

Nicholas smirked, ruffling his son’s hair before turning to Madison, gently offering her a spoonful. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

She happily opened her mouth, chewing with delight before clapping her hands. “Yummy!”

“See? Told you guys I make the best mac and cheese.” you beamed.

Nicholas raised a brow, amused. “You sound pretty confident.”

“I am confident.” you said as you twirled your spoon playfully. “Now, Mr. Chavez, your turn.”

Nicholas leaned back slightly. “Oh? Am I getting special treatment too?”

You giggled. “Open up.”

He chuckled under his breath but obeyed, parting his lips as you fed him a spoonful. The moment the cheesy flavor hit his tongue, his brows lifted in surprise.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he admitted, shaking his head.

You giggled, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. “Told you.”

The evening passed with full bellies and when it was time for bed, you bathed the kids, their tired giggles filling the air, and helped tuck them in. Nicholas offered to put Alexander down while you took Madison, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s forehead before slipping out of the room.

And then he saw you.

Sitting on the edge of Madison’s bed, brushing back her soft hair as you read to her in a soothing tone. She was barely awake, blinking up at you sleepily as you leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, princess,” you whispered.

Nicholas stood frozen in the doorway, something unfamiliar tightening in his chest. He found himself thinking once again, you’d be a great mother. The thought was dangerous, but it was there. Then you turned, catching him watching.

You smirked. “You’re staring again, Mr. Chavez.”

Nicholas exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Can’t help myself.”

Your giggle was soft as you brushed past him, padding into your room. As you walked into your room, Nicholas trailed behind like a lost puppy, unable to tear his eyes away from you. The way your hips swayed, the soft curve of your waist—everything about you was intoxicating and you had him completely wrapped around your finger. And then he saw just beneath the waistband of your shorts, your tramp stamp tattoo peeking out, a delicate mark sitting low on your back.

Nicholas clenched his jaw.

He’d love to have you bent over, his fingers tracing slow circles over that ink, feeling you tremble beneath his touch. The thought alone made his grip tighten at his sides.

And just when he thought you couldn’t test him any further, you reached for the hem of your top.

Without a second thought, you lifted it over your head, letting the fabric drop to the floor.

Nicholas’ breath hitched. A leopard print lace bra.

Of course, you were wearing something bold, something so you. And you weren’t done.

Hooking your fingers into the waistband of your shorts, you wiggled out of them, bending just enough to give him a full view of your clothed pussy before stepping out of them completely.

Nicholas was practically heaving at this point. You peeked over your shoulder, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Close your mouth, Mr. Chavez.”

His lips parted, ready to say something, anything—but nothing came out. You only giggled, climbing onto your bed like nothing had happened, flipping through your phone, legs swinging idly.

Nicholas dragged a hand down his face.

You were toying with him. You had him at your mercy.

And worst of all? It was working.

Nicholas tried to act unaffected. He cleared his throat, shifting his stance like he was preparing to leave. “I- I should head to bed,” he mumbled, though he didn’t move.

You pouted, tilting your head. “Stay,” you said softly. “Just to talk.”

“Talking, huh?”

You nodded, all wide eyed and innocent, stretching your arms over your head in a way that had his gaze flickering lower before he caught himself.

With a sigh, he sat at the edge of your bed while you casually chatted, kicking your feet and twirling your hair around your finger. Your eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Do you think I’m a bad girl, Mr. Chavez?” you asked, voice between playful innocence and sultriness.

Nicholas swallowed hard, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the sheet. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart,” he murmured.

“Am I?” you whispered, inching closer.

His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body tense. He reached out, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Your breath hitched, the air crackling between you. His thumb parted your lips and in and act of boldness, it slipped pass, finding the wetness in your mouth. With your gaze locked on his, you sucked on his thumb, wrapping your lips around it and swirling your tongue.

His breath hitched. “Fuck.”

He pulled his thumb out and put it into his mouth, sucking the remnants of your saliva.

Just as his lips hovered inches from yours, the sound of the front door downstairs opening made him jolt back. Victoria’s heels clacked against the floor, her sour mood obvious. Catching Nicholas slipping out of your room, his face flushed, she raised a brow, her gaze darting between the two of you.

“Really, Nicholas?” she spat in suspicion and jealousy.

You played innocent, clutching the blanket to your chest. “We were just talking,” you offered sweetly, biting back a grin at how her eyes narrowed further.

Victoria scoffed, crossing her arms. “Is that right? Because it doesn’t seem like that.”

Nicholas stiffened, trying to maintain his composure. “You’re being ridiculous,” he deflected.

Her glare lingered before she finally turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she retreated down the hall.

You stretched out on the bed, arching your back, letting the blanket slip just enough to tease. “Goodnight, Mr. Chavez,” you purred.

He gripped the doorknob tightly, caught in the web you had woven. The hallway stretched before him—the master bedroom he shared with his wife on one end, your tantalizing presence on the other.

You glanced at him, eyes sparkling. “Unless, you wanna stay?”

His breath hitched, eyes roaming over you one last time before he finally tore himself away, muttering a strained, “G-goodnight, sweetheart,” as he pulled the door shut behind him.

Left alone, you hugged your pillow, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. If he thought this was over, he was sorely mistaken.

The next morning, you woke up early, making breakfast for Nicholas and the kids. Pancakes, bacon, fresh fruit—you wanted everything to be just right. Madison sat on the counter, swinging her legs while Alexander set the table, and Nicholas leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching you.

“You always cook like this?” he asked, voice still rough from sleep.

You flashed him a playful smile. “Only when I feel like being appreciated.”

After breakfast, you got the kids ready for school, hair brushed, backpacks packed and finally took a moment to get yourself dressed. A crop top, a denim mini skirt, platform sandals, light makeup. When you walked back into the living room, Nicholas was already standing by the door, keys in hand, but his eyes trailed over you slowly, his grip tightening on the keyring.

You smirked, adjusting your skirt. “Too much?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “No, you look beautiful.” But deep down, he wanted to say yes—only because he didn’t want anyone looking at you the way he did.

You dropped the kids off at their private school, earning a mix of disapproving side eyes and whispered admiration from the teachers. Nicholas barely looked at anyone, his hand hovering protectively over your lower back as he led you out.

“Want to come with me to set?” he offered once you were back in the car.

“Why not? Not like I have anything better to do.”

The moment you arrived, heads turned. Nicholas had always been the center of attention, but today, all eyes were on you. His hand remained firm on your back as he guided you inside, like he needed everyone to know you were with him.

The team got to work dressing him for the press interview and photoshoot, buttoning a crisp white shirt over his broad chest, rolling the sleeves up just enough to show off his muscular forearms. His jawline looked even sharper under the bright studio lights, his dark hair tousled in that perfect way you loved to see it.

“Wow,” you murmured under your breath, watching as the stylist fussed over his collar.

“Something on your mind, sweetheart?” Nicholas turned to you, amused.

“Just that you look like—really, really good,” you said, titling your head and smiling.

His smirk deepened. Before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your forehead. The unexpected gesture made warmth bloom in your chest, and you knew he saw the way you grew flustered.

You rolled your eyes but still clapped for him when the cameras started flashing, watching as he moved effortlessly through the shoot. He was a natural and you bit your lip seeing him in his element.

While he was busy, a younger guy, one of the interns, maybe, made his way over to you. He was all easy smiles and smooth compliments, obviously flirting. You laughed, twirling a strand of hair around your finger as he asked for your number.

Nicholas noticed. His expression darkened, his fists clenched. In seconds, he was striding over, his muscular frame practically blocking the guy from view.

“She’s busy,” Nicholas snapped, his voice dangerously low.

The intern blinked, startled. “Oh—I was just—”

“Leaving,” Nicholas finished for him.

“You didn’t have to be mean,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

Nicholas didn’t look away from the guy. “Yeah, I did.”

Smirking, you turned back. “Wait, what was your number again?”

Nicholas turned to you, his voice firm. “Y/N. Let’s go. Now.”

Your expression dropped, irritation creeping in. “Why? Because some guy talked to me?”

“Because I said so,” Nicholas said with a clenched his jaw, grabbing your wrist—not rough, just enough to make you follow.

The ride home was tense. You stared out the window, arms folded, before finally snapping, “It’s not fair.”

He exhaled. “What’s not?”

You turned to him. “You’re married. Am I supposed to just sit around and be sad and lonely while you go home to your wife?”

His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Y/N, stop.”

“No.”

He glanced at you, his eyes dark. “You’re being a brat.”

You scoffed. “What are you gonna do? Exactly.”

Nicholas exhaled slowly, trying to keep his composure. “I’ll take you over my knee when we get home. Don’t test me.”

You rolled your eyes stifling a gasp. “You’re too pussy for that.”

Nicholas was silent for a moment, but his knuckles went white around the steering wheel.

The second you got home, he yanked the car door open, pulling you out and leading you straight inside.

“Hey—” you protested, but he didn’t stop, not until you were in your room, door shut behind you.

He was fuming, eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel the heat of his frustration in the air.

“What now, Mr. Chavez?” you swallowed, tilting your chin up defiantly.

“Keep pushing and find out.”

You rolled your eyes, pushing at his chest in an attempt to shove him toward the door. “I think I’ll find that cute guy’s Instagram,” you said, just to test him, just to see how far you could push.

Something in Nicholas snapped. Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist, sat down on the edge of your bed, and pulled you over his knee with surprising ease. Your breath hitched as you found yourself sprawled across his legs, your hands pressing into the mattress for balance.

“What are you doing, Mr Chavez?” you asked, all innocent.

He let out a slow breath, his palm resting on the small of your back. “What you’ve been needing these past few months,” he murmured, his voice low.

You swallowed, but refused to let him win so easily. “You’re not gonna do it,” you taunted, tilting your head to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “You’re still a—”

The sharp sound of his palm meeting denim cut you off. A gasp left your lips before you could stop it.

“Count,” Nicholas instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.

You hesitated, then exhaled. “One.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his fingers brushing over the fabric of your skirt before hiking it up then delivering another. You squirmed, but counted again.

By the time he reached ten, warmth spread across your ass. His hand lingered, soothing over where he’d struck, his fingers tracing patterns as if to calm the sting. Then, without thinking, he pressed a kiss, the contact sending a shiver down your spine.

You shifted in his lap, your hands pressing against his chest as you straddled him, legs on either side of his thighs. Nicholas stilled, his breathing uneven as you settled against him. His hands instinctively found your waist, gripping you like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to push you away or pull you closer.

His gaze flickered down, something dark and unreadable crossing his face. His fingers trailed lower, finding their way into your underwear and when he realized just how wet you were, a low chuckle rumbled from his chest.

“You’re such a dirty girl,” he murmured, shaking his head in amusement. “Getting all worked up from being spanked.”

Your whole body warmed. “Shut up,” you muttered, but your breath hitched when, without warning, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulled—hard enough to tear the delicate fabric.

“Hey!” you gasped, eyes wide. “That was Victoria’s Secret!”

Nicholas smirked, tossing the ruined fabric aside like it meant nothing. “I’ll take you to the store tomorrow,” he promised, his voice low and smooth. “You can pick out as many as you want.”

His eyes searched yours, his expression shifting into something more serious, more intense. His gaze dropped to your lips, and you could feel the heat radiating between you. Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and then—your lips crashed together.

It was wild, needy, weeks—months of tension snapping all at once. Nicholas groaned against your mouth, his hands roaming your back, your waist, your ass, gripping, exploring, like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. You kissed him just as desperately, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, not wanting to let go.

When you finally broke apart for air, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together.

Then, before you could react, Nicholas shifted, turning you in one swift movement so that your back was against his chest, your legs draped over his knees. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“You drive me insane,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. A shiver ran through you as he trailed slow, lingering kisses along your skin, his breath warm against your shoulder.

You swallowed, eyes flickering to the standing mirror in front of you. The sight made your stomach flip—Nicholas behind you, his dark eyes hooded with something dangerous, desperate and needy. His lips pressed just beneath your jaw, on your collarbone, your neck, your cheeks, all over, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go.

His breath was unsteady as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, like he was trying to commit your scent to memory.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with restraint. Your hands curled over his arms, your heart pounding. “Maybe,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, allowing him more access. “But I think I’m starting to.”

Nicholas let out a quiet chuckle, his grip on you tightening just slightly. “You’re a tease.”

You smirked. “But you totally love it.”

He sighed, pressing one last lingering kiss to your shoulder. “Yeah,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I really do.”

With a smirk playing on your lips, you took his hand and placed it right on your pussy, the heat and wetness making him gasp.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice faltering.

“Something that I know we both want to do,” you answered.

As you stared at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes darkened and you couldn’t help the tiny moan that left your lips as his fingers pressed against your bundle of nerves. The air was charged, both of your breaths heavy as he slowly rubbed your clit.

“Fuck, your moans are just pretty as I imagined,” he whispered in your ear.

As he rubbed your clit slowly, his gaze was laser focused on you in the mirror. He slipped a finger inside you, a gasp leaving your lips, nothing had ever been inside you besides your fingers and his eyebrows furrowed in the mirror before he used his free hand to tilt your head.

“Sweetheart, are you a virgin?” he asked.

You nodded slowly, a bit of embarrassment evident on your face. “Is that like, bad?

“No, no it isn’t, sweetheart. I just didn’t know.” He’d have to think about that and discuss it later, the revelation had definitely surprised him.

All rational thoughts however, had been slapped out of your head when he curled his finger inside you while he rubbed your clit. The pleasure was beyond anything you had ever felt and you squirmed in his lap. He pumped his finger carefully, gradually increasing his pace as he pressed kisses against your neck.

“So fucking tight for me sweetheart,” he said, between kisses.

“Well duh, I’m a v—” Your snarky remark was cut short when he slipped another finger inside your pussy, the sound of squelching filling the room. You could see the cocky smirk on his face in the mirror and your pussy clenched at how hot he looked. Hair tousled, face chiseled, your hot boss was finger fucking you. Your hot married boss at that. And you were enjoying it thoroughly.

“Mr. Chavez,” you gasped, your back arching off his chest, “I’m gonna cum.”

His movements increased and you began squirming away but he held you close, his fingers relentless and he fell back on the bed. You were pressed against his chest on top of him, your moans so loud, it echoed throughout that wing of the mansion.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my fingers sweetheart.”

Your release washed over you, hitting you like a truck and you squirted all over his fingers. He didn’t stop though, Nicholas continued pumping his fingers until he drew every last moan and liquid from you, leaving you utterly spent and a breathless mess in his arms.

He placed you beside him and you watched as he licked his finger clean of your juices. “You taste delicious,” he hummed in delight.

Your cheeks heated and you hid your face in the crook of his neck. He wasn’t having it and he cupped your cheeks so that you were looking at him.

“Are you gonna act like weird again like when we kissed?” you asked, a small pout on your lips.

“I won’t, I promise. And now you have to promise me you’ll keep this a secret.”

“Totally, I promise,” you beamed.

And the affair began.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @emluvsuxo @hopefully-saturn

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cceana · 1 day ago

Text

Arcane Highschool!AU 2

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 6.1k words, part 1 here, established relationships except for vi's, Star athlete!vi x band!reader, Childhoodbestfriend!caitlyn, New kid!jinx x Class president!reader, Troublemaker!sevika x Tutor!reader, Artist!ekko x Muse!reader, Bestfriend!jayce, and Enemies to lovers!viktor

A/N - lmaoo.. sorry yall for not posting for like a really long time ;-; studied my azz off last week which was def worth it cuz i did so feaking well on that exam hehe. this was lowk rushed bcuz i rlly wanted to post. hope yall enjoy queens (> 3 <)

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

The weeks following that unexpected late-night moment between you two felt different—charged with something new, something unspoken but lingering in the air. It wasn’t just the occasional brush of hands when walking side by side, or the way she’d glance at you across the cafeteria before looking away just a little too fast. It was the warmth in her voice when she teased you, the way she stuck around after practice just to sit beside you while you tuned your instrument.

She never said why she stayed. You never asked.

But you both knew.

It started with one call—past midnight, your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

“I can’t sleep,” she said when you answered, her voice rough with exhaustion.

You could hear the faint sound of cars passing outside, the rustle of her shifting under the covers.

“You’re calling me because you can’t sleep?” you murmured, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded at the thought of her thinking about you this late.

“Yeah,” she admitted. A pause. “Your voice is kinda nice.”

Heat rushed to your face. “Oh.”

“Don’t get a big head about it.”

You smiled, rolling onto your side.

From that night on, the calls became routine. Sometimes she ranted about her coach pushing her too hard. Sometimes you talked about your music, your fingers unconsciously tracing the melodies you’d played that day. Other times, you simply listened to each other breathe, neither willing to hang up first.

one day, she told you about a celebration party her teammates where hosting

She invited you.

“It won’t be the worst thing ever,” she had said, arms crossed as she leaned against your locker. “Just show up for a little bit.”

You’d raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you want me at parties?”

Her lips had twitched, almost like she was fighting back a smirk. “Since I realized you never leave that damn band room. It’s tragic, really.”

So here you were, awkwardly lingering near the kitchen, nursing a half-empty cup of soda while bodies moved and music pulsed around you.

And she? She was in the center of it all—laughing, drinking, surrounded by teammates who treated her like some kind of legend. She belonged here, in the chaos and the noise.

You? Not so much.

You should have left an hour ago, but something held you in place. Maybe it was the way she kept glancing at you between conversations, like she was making sure you were still there. Or maybe it was the warmth in her eyes whenever your gazes met.

Either way, you weren’t leaving just yet.

You had just decided to step outside for some air when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned, blinking up at her. She was closer than expected, her usual cocky smirk in place—but there was something else in her expression, something tense.

“Just getting some air,” you replied. “It’s suffocating in here.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Come on.”

Before you could respond, she was leading you out the back door, weaving through the crowd with ease. The cool night air hit you instantly, a sharp contrast to the heat of the party.

You leaned against the railing of the back porch, inhaling deeply. “Finally.”

She chuckled beside you, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shot her a look. “You asked me to.”

She was quiet for a moment, staring out into the night. Then, in a voice softer than you’d ever heard from her, she said, “Yeah. I did.”

Something about the way she said it sent your heartbeat into a sprint.

You shifted, watching her carefully. “Why?”

She exhaled slowly, running a hand through her hair. “Because I wanted you here.”

Your breath caught.

She turned to face you fully now, her expression serious—no teasing smirk, no sarcastic remark to deflect. Just raw honesty.

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around,” she started, voice steady but laced with something vulnerable. “I’m stubborn, I’m hot-headed, and I probably piss you off at least twice a day.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh. “At least.”

Her lips quirked up slightly before she continued. “But you… you’re different. You challenge me. You don’t put up with my crap, and somehow, you still—” She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart pounded so hard you were sure she could hear it.

“I keep catching myself looking for you in a crowd,” she admitted, shifting her weight like she was forcing herself to stay still. “I wait outside your rehearsals, even when I could’ve left. I call you at night because your voice is the only thing that makes me feel like the world isn’t spinning too fast.”

She took a shaky breath.

“I like you.”

The words hung between you, thick with weight, with meaning.

“I don’t just like you, actually,” she corrected, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I—I think I’m falling for you.”

You stared at her, stunned, unable to form words.

Her fingers flexed at her sides, like she was bracing for rejection. “If that’s weird, or if you don’t feel the same, just—”

You stepped forward before she could finish, reaching for her hand.

She froze as your fingers slid between hers, as you squeezed lightly.

“You idiot,” you murmured, your chest aching with something overwhelming. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time.”

Her eyes widened slightly, like she hadn’t fully considered that possibility.

Then, after a beat, she huffed out a laugh. “God, we’re dumb.”

You grinned. “Yeah. A little bit.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, she looked nervous. “Can I—?”

You didn’t let her finish. Instead, you pulled her down into a kiss.

It wasn’t perfect—she was clumsy, caught off guard, but warm and sure the moment she realized what was happening. One of her hands came up to cup your face, rough and calloused but impossibly gentle.

When you finally pulled away, she was breathless, eyes flickering between yours.

“So,” she murmured, voice lower now. “Does this mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you like it.”

You sighed dramatically, pretending to think. “Unfortunately.”

She grinned, lacing your fingers together. “Good.”

And as she pulled you back inside—back into the noise and the chaos of the party—it didn’t feel overwhelming anymore.

Not when she was right beside you.

Not when she was yours.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

The days that followed felt like something out of a dream. The kind of dream you never wanted to wake up from.

She had been true to her word—she didn’t want to let you go again. Every morning, you’d wake up to a good morning text, and by the afternoon, she’d have already made plans for the two of you, whether it was a quiet café visit, a stroll through the city, or simply lounging in her estate’s massive library, reminiscing about the past between pages of old books.

She had slipped back into your life as if she had never left it.

And yet, there was something new about this—something deeper, sweeter

Like the way she’d always find an excuse to touch you, whether it was resting her head on your shoulder when she was tired, bumping her knee against yours under the table, or absentmindedly playing with your fingers when you sat next to each other.

Or the way she would wait for you. Even when she was drowning in responsibilities, she would insist on having lunch together, texting you just to tell you something random about her day.

Or the way she’d steal your snacks.

Without fail, if you had food, she would somehow find a way to take at least a bite. “Sharing is caring,” she’d say, plucking a fry from your plate before you could react. And if you tried to call her out on it? She’d just smirk, pop whatever she took into her mouth, and say, “You love me, so it doesn’t count as stealing.”

(And you couldn’t even argue. Because she was right.)

Then there were the nights.

Those were your favorite.

She was always busiest during the day, but at night? That was when she really let herself be soft with you.

Like when you’d both curl up on the couch, watching movies that neither of you paid attention to because she was too busy tracing lazy patterns against your arm, or playing with your fingers, or resting her head in your lap with the most peaceful look on her face.

Or the nights when she’d show up at your door unannounced, eyes heavy with exhaustion but still full of warmth as she mumbled, “Just needed to see you.”

You’d let her in without question, and she’d collapse onto your bed with a tired sigh, reaching for you without hesitation. “Come here,” she’d murmur, voice softer than usual, more vulnerable. And when you settled next to her, she’d just hold you, burying her face against your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping her steady.

Or—your personal favorite—the way she looked at you.

Soft. Fond. Like you were the most precious thing she had ever laid eyes on.

One evening, as you sat curled up on the couch in her study, she nudged you with her foot. “Hey.”

You looked up from your book. “Hmm?”

She grinned. “Let’s make cupcakes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want cupcakes,” she repeated matter-of-factly, already standing up and stretching. “And I want to make them with you.”

You laughed, setting your book aside. “Since when do you bake?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, offering a hand to pull you up. “But I’m a fast learner. Come on.”

You sighed but let her drag you to the kitchen. What followed was absolute chaos.

Flour on the counter, sugar accidentally spilled on the floor, a mess of ingredients neither of you fully measured properly. She kept getting distracted, flicking flour at you, grinning mischievously every time you yelped in protest.

At some point, she wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder as you mixed the batter. “I think we make a good team.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I’m doing all the work.”

She hummed, tightening her hold on you slightly. “And you do it so well.”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately.”

She laughed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling away. “Okay, okay, let’s get these in the oven before I distract you too much.”

Too late, you thought, but you didn’t say it aloud.

Instead, you watched as she carefully placed the tray in the oven, a proud gleam in her eyes despite the fact that neither of you had any idea if the cookies would even taste good.

It didn’t really matter.

Because moments like this—messy, chaotic, ridiculous moments with her—were worth more than any perfect, scripted day.

And when the cupcakes came out horribly burnt, she just laughed, tossed one to you, and said, “Guess we’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

Loving her was like standing in the eye of a storm—unpredictable, consuming, and just a little dangerous.

But you never wanted to be anywhere else.

She was everything you weren’t. But in the same way that she crashed into your life like a hurricane, she had also settled into it, leaving pieces of herself in all the places she had touched.

And now, she was everywhere.

You didn’t even know when it happened, but somewhere between her dragging you into trouble and worming her way into your perfectly structured life, she had become a permanent fixture.

No, more than that.

She had become yours.

Your mornings were different now.

Instead of waking up to your alarm and immediately drowning in responsibilities, you woke up to her texts.

chaos incarnate: WAKE UP chaos incarnate: pres, you better not be ignoring me chaos incarnate: hello?? chaos incarnate: fine. i’m calling you.

And then, not even a second later, your phone would start ringing.

You groaned, answering it without opening your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

“Good morning to you too, babe.”

You sighed, rolling over. “It’s four a.m.”

“Yeah, well, I missed you.”

Your heart stuttered, heat rising to your cheeks.

You hated how easily she did that.

“…We saw each other yesterday.”

“And? That was a whole eight hours ago.”

You groaned again, but this time, you couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your lips.

The entire school knew about you two.

Not because you told anyone, but because she made it impossible not to know.

She’d sling an arm over your shoulder in the halls, leaning in obnoxiously close just to see you flustered.

She’d steal your lunch, even if she had her own, just to make you roll your eyes and huff at her—because, according to her, you looked cute when you were annoyed.

She’d sit in on student council meetings—uninvited—kicking her feet up on the table like she belonged there, just to watch you glare at her.

And if anyone so much as looked at you for too long?

She’d pull you closer, smirking as she draped herself over you and drawled, “Mine.”

You pretended to be exasperated by it all.

You weren’t.

One second, she was smirking at you from across the room, her gaze sharp, teasing, full of something wild you could never quite pin down. The next, she was leaning against your desk, spinning a pen between her fingers as she sighed dramatically about how boring the student council meetings were, just to get a reaction out of you.

And sometimes—when no one else was around—she’d be quiet. Soft. Like a storm that had momentarily calmed, if only for you.

It was confusing. It was frustrating.

But it was also thrilling.

You never knew what she’d do next, but somehow, you always ended up right there with her.

“We’re skipping.”

You blinked up at her from your pile of papers. “What?”

She grinned, already grabbing your wrist, tugging you out of your chair. “I said, we’re skipping. Come on.”

You pulled back instinctively. “I can’t. I have to finish—”

“Boring,” she cut in, rolling her eyes. “You work too much. If you spend one more hour staring at those papers, you’ll turn into one.”

You crossed your arms. “And you get into trouble too much.”

She smirked. “Yeah? And yet, here you are, still standing next to me.”

You sighed, but the fight was already slipping out of you. With her, it always did.

She took advantage of your hesitation, intertwining her fingers with yours, and your heart definitely didn’t just stutter in your chest.

“Come on,” she murmured, giving your hand a squeeze. “Just for a little while?”

And just like that, you were done for.

The two of you ended up on the rooftop, the one place where no one ever checked.

She sat on the ledge, legs swinging slightly, looking up at the sky like she had never seen it before.

For a moment, she was quiet. Contemplative.

Then, without looking at you, she spoke.

“You know, you’re the only person who’s ever stuck around.”

The words were soft, but something about them hit harder than anything she had ever said before.

You swallowed, watching her carefully. “You don’t make it easy.”

She laughed, a little breathless. “No. I don’t.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable in a way you never expected.

Then, before you could think too much about it, you reached out, gently brushing your fingers against hers where they rested on the ledge.

She went completely still.

You hesitated, pulling back slightly, but she caught your hand before you could.

Her grip was tight—like she was afraid you’d disappear if she let go.

“You drive me crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re stubborn, and you worry too much, and you never break the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?”

She huffed, exasperated, before turning to face you fully.

And then—before you could react—she leaned in, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Your brain short-circuited.

She pulled back, smirking at your stunned expression, but there was something warm in her eyes, something real.

“You’re mine now,” she declared, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You opened your mouth—probably to protest, maybe to demand an explanation—but she just squeezed your hand again, tilting her head at you.

“…Unless you don’t want to be.”

You swallowed, heartbeat hammering in your chest.

And then, slowly, you laced your fingers through hers properly, squeezing back.

“…I think I do.”

Her smirk softened into something almost gentle.

“Good,” she murmured.

— Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t sure when this became normal.

When tutoring sessions turned into something more—into lingering glances across textbooks, into stolen moments between classes, into a relationship that neither of you ever really talked about, but both of you knew was real.

It had started with her grumbling about the stupid school system, about how she didn’t need to study when she had “better things to do.” But now? Now, she was here—on time, every time, sitting across from you with a scowl like she hadn’t just walked across campus grinning at you like an idiot when she thought no one was looking.

She had changed.

Or maybe she hadn’t, and you were just seeing her differently now.

Either way, she was yours.

And that was enough.

“You’re staring.”

You blinked, realizing that, yes, you were staring, and, yes, she was very much aware of it.

“I’m not,” you lied.

She smirked. “Yeah? Then why haven’t you flipped the page in five minutes?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it.

Damn it.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Didn’t take you for the distracted type, tutor.”

You sighed, closing the book. “Maybe if you actually studied, I wouldn’t have to get distracted.”

She scoffed, leaning back. “I do study.”

You gave her a look.

“Okay, fine,” she huffed. “I study when you make me.”

“Exactly.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

Instead, she tilted her head, watching you in that way that always made your stomach do something weird.

“Why do you even put up with me?” she asked.

The question caught you off guard.

Not because you didn’t have an answer, but because she sounded genuinely curious.

Like she didn’t understand why you were still here.

Like she didn’t realize how easy it was to love her.

You frowned. “Because I want to.”

She stared at you for a moment, something unreadable flickering in her expression.

Then, suddenly, she reached across the table, grabbing your hand.

It wasn’t gentle.

It never was with her.

But her grip was warm, steady, real.

“…Good,” she muttered, squeezing your fingers once before pulling away. “You’re stuck with me, anyway.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Dating her meant learning to navigate her world.

The world of bruised knuckles and reckless grins, of sharp words and sharper instincts, of someone who had spent so long fighting that she didn’t know how to stop.

You didn’t mind.

She never hurt you—not really.

But sometimes, she’d show up to your study sessions with a fresh cut on her cheek, or a bandage wrapped around her hand, or a bruise blooming on her jaw, and every time, you’d sigh, pulling out your first aid kit without saying a word.

She hated it.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do.”

She huffed but didn’t pull away, letting you press a cotton pad to her cheek, wincing when the antiseptic stung.

“Idiot,” you muttered, brushing your thumb over her skin after you were done.

She smirked. “You love me.”

You didn’t argue.

Instead, you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the uninjured side of her face.

She tensed for half a second before melting into it, her fingers curling around your wrist, holding you in place like she never wanted you to leave.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”

There were other parts of her world, too.

Parts that had nothing to do with fights or scraped knuckles.

Like how she always walked you home, no matter how many times you told her she didn’t need to.

Or how she’d steal your pens just to hear you complain about it, only to return them later with a smug grin.

Or how she’d grumble about studying, but when you fell asleep next to her, she’d pull a blanket over you without saying a word.

Or how she’d stay, even when she didn’t have to.

She wasn’t the best with words.

But she didn’t need to be.

Not when she loved you like this.

“Hey,” she called one day, leaning against your locker.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she shifted, suddenly looking a little… awkward.

Which was weird, because she was never awkward.

You frowned. “Are you—”

“I got you something,” she blurted out.

You blinked. “You what?”

She huffed, shoving something into your hands.

It was… a necklace. Simple, understated. Something you would actually wear.

You stared at it, then at her.

“…Why?”

She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “Because I wanted to.”

You looked down at it again, running your fingers over the chain.

It was nice.

And it was from her.

Your heart did that weird thing again.

“…Put it on me?” you asked softly, handing it back.

She blinked, like she hadn’t expected that, before scoffing. “You really like making me do things, don’t you?”

You smiled. “Yes.”

She muttered something under her breath but moved behind you, fastening the clasp.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, and you shivered.

“…There,” she murmured.

You turned back to her, letting her see the way you were smiling. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, but her ears were red.

You grinned.

Then, impulsively, you reached up, cupping her face in your hands before pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose.

She froze.

“…You absolute menace,” she muttered after a second, her voice half-choked.

You laughed. “You love me.”

She groaned. “I hate you.”

But the way she grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as she pulled you down the hall?

That told a very different story.

— Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

The world felt different when he painted you.

Maybe it was the way his eyes softened as they traced your features, the way his lips quirked up ever so slightly in that absentminded, faraway smile. Or maybe it was the way he became so completely immersed in the moment, like nothing else existed except you, him, and the quiet hum of creation between you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—when you had become his muse, when his hands had memorized the slopes and curves of your expression more intimately than you ever could. But at some point, it became normal to sit in his studio, to let him paint you while the sun spilled golden light across the room.

At some point, it became home.

"Stay still," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.

You huffed but obeyed, shifting just slightly to get comfortable. “You know, I’m starting to think you just tell me that so I don’t walk away.”

He smirked without looking up. “Would it work?”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously.”

He chuckled, dipping his brush into a fresh stroke of color. "Then I don’t see the problem."

You watched him work, watched the way his fingers moved with practiced precision, his brow furrowing in deep focus.

It was so like him—to get completely lost in his art, in the way he captured emotions in strokes of paint. You weren’t even sure he realized how much he gave away when he worked. The quiet admiration, the unwavering patience, the unspoken tenderness in the way he committed you to canvas.

The thought made warmth curl in your chest.

He loved you.

Even in the moments when he didn’t say it outright, you felt it.

“…You’re staring,” he noted after a moment, amusement dancing in his tone.

You smirked. "So?"

"So," he mused, dabbing a final stroke onto the canvas before finally looking at you, "stay still."

You scoffed but didn’t argue.

His gaze lingered, studying you like he was committing every detail to memory.

Then, suddenly, he set the brush down, wiping his hands on a cloth before standing up and making his way toward you.

Your brows furrowed. "Are we done?"

He hummed, stopping right in front of you. "Almost."

Before you could question him, he reached out, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek.

You blinked.

“…Did you just wipe paint on me?”

His lips twitched. "Maybe."

Your jaw dropped. "You menace—"

He laughed, grabbing your hands before you could retaliate. "It’s barely anything!"

"You smudged me!"

"You’ll live."

You gasped dramatically. “I can feel it on my face—”

"Would you like me to fix it?"

You squinted at him, suspicious. "How?"

He smiled. "Like this."

And then, before you could react, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek, right where the paint had been.

You froze.

Your heart stumbled over itself, warmth blooming beneath your skin.

"...That doesn’t count as fixing it," you mumbled, embarrassed by how breathless you sounded.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his smile soft, fond.

"I disagree."

Loving him meant understanding the way he saw the world.

The way his hands itched to create, to turn fleeting emotions into something tangible.

The way he’d go silent for long stretches, caught up in his own thoughts, before suddenly dragging you into his latest project with that spark of inspiration in his eyes.

The way he loved you—not just with words, but in the way he painted you, over and over again, like he was trying to keep you forever.

And maybe, in his own way, he was.

One night, long after the city had gone quiet, you found yourself back in his studio, curled up on the couch while he worked.

You weren’t posing this time.

You were just there, watching as he sketched in his notebook, his focus unwavering even as the hours slipped by.

“…Do you ever get tired of painting me?” you asked suddenly.

He paused, looking up at you.

Then, without hesitation—"Never."

You stared at him. “You say that like it’s obvious.”

"It is obvious," he said simply, setting his notebook aside as he moved toward you.

You let him sit beside you, watching as he reached for your hand, tracing absentminded patterns along your fingers.

“…There are infinite things in the world to paint,” he murmured, his touch feather-light, reverent. “Landscapes, emotions, stories… But you?” He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your knuckles. "You are my favorite."

Your breath caught.

You weren’t used to this—to his quiet, devastating sincerity.

He didn’t always say how he felt outright. He spoke in colors, in soft touches, in lingering glances over paint-stained canvases.

But this?

This was something else entirely.

“…You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, feeling your face grow warm.

He smirked. “And you love me for it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

Instead, you tugged him closer, resting your forehead against his.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just existed—wrapped in warmth, in paint-stained fingertips and whispered affections between the silence.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

— Bestfriend!jayce

There were moments where you still couldn’t believe this was real.

That after years of laughter, inside jokes, stolen hoodies, and whispered dreams of the future, you had ended up here—curled up next to him, his arm lazily draped around you, as if this had been inevitable from the very start.

In a way, maybe it was.

Loving him never felt like a sudden thing, never like some grand revelation that struck you out of nowhere. It had crept in slowly, weaving itself between every late-night conversation, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted just a little longer than it needed to.

And now? Now it was second nature.

He was yours.

And you were his.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

You blinked. “What thing?”

He smirked without looking up from his book. “The thing where you stare at me like I put the stars in the sky.”

You scoffed, shoving him playfully. “Get over yourself.”

He chuckled, finally turning his attention toward you. “Not denying it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth creeping up your neck betrayed you. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Or judging you.”

“Doubt it.”

You sighed, dramatic. “God, dating you is exhausting.”

“Right?” he teased. “Can’t believe you fell for me.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “Can’t believe I did, either.”

His expression softened at that, his teasing smile melting into something fonder.

Then, suddenly, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face before letting his fingers trail down, tracing the curve of your jaw.

“…Lucky me,” he murmured.

Your breath caught.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

You just sat there, the warmth of his touch seeping into your skin, your heart stumbling over itself at the way he was looking at you.

Like you were something rare.

Like he had been waiting his whole life for you.

“…You’re such a sap,” you whispered.

His lips twitched. “Only for you.”

The thing about dating your best friend was that nothing really changed.

Not in the way you expected, at least.

There were still late-night fast food runs, still study sessions that turned into existential conversations, still a constant presence at your side whenever you needed him (and even when you didn’t).

But there were differences, too.

Like how he held your hand without hesitation now, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Or how he hugged you longer, pressing his face into your shoulder like he needed to be close to you.

Or how he kissed your forehead absentmindedly whenever you did something that made him proud, as if he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Or how he whispered, "Love you," so casually, like he had always been saying it.

Like he always would.

“Okay, real talk,” he said one night, sprawled across your bed like he owned it.

You hummed, flipping a page in your book. “Mm?”

“If we weren’t dating, would you still have a crush on me?”

You blinked, giving him an unimpressed look. “What kind of question is that?”

“A valid one.”

You sighed, setting your book down. “We are dating.”

“But if we weren’t,” he pressed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Would you still be into me?”

You narrowed your eyes. “What kind of answer are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was really asking.

Then, with a smirk, you shrugged. “Dunno. You’re kinda annoying.”

He gasped. “Rude.”

“But,” you continued, reaching over to poke his cheek, “I’d probably be in love with you anyway.”

He grinned. “Knew it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Hopelessly in love.”

You groaned. “Why do I even like you?”

He laughed, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together.

“…Because we were always meant to end up here.”

Your breath hitched.

The words were simple, said so casually, but they settled deep in your chest, spreading warmth through your entire being.

Because he was right.

Every moment, every choice, every little thing that led to this—it had always been leading you here.

To him.

To this.

To something more than forever.

— Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

It still surprised you sometimes—how things had changed.

How the cold rivalry that once existed between you had melted into something warm, something constant, something that made your chest tighten in the best way whenever you so much as thought about it.

About him.

Once upon a time, you and him had been at odds with each other, a battle of sharp words and stubborn ideals. He was relentless, fiercely determined, a mind constantly working ten steps ahead. And you—well, you were the opposite. Passionate, chaotic, diving headfirst into the unknown with little concern for anything but discovery.

But now?

Now he was yours.

And God, you loved him.

“Stop working,” you whined, dramatically flopping onto his desk.

He barely spared you a glance, eyes still locked onto the notebook in front of him. “Can’t.”

“You always say that,” you huffed, watching as he furiously jotted down another equation, his pen moving like it had a will of its own.

“Because it’s always true,” he shot back, voice carrying that familiar unwavering certainty.

You rolled your eyes. “Five-minute break.”

“No.”

“Two minutes?”

“No.”

You sighed, tilting your head at him. “What could possibly be so important that you can’t take two minutes to—” You peered at his notes and blinked. “Wait. Is this…” You trailed off, recognizing the layout of a physics equation, the bold scrawl of hypotheses scattered between calculations.

He finally glanced at you, the sharp glint of his focus not dulled in the slightest. “I had a thought earlier and needed to get it down.”

You stared at him. “You had a thought so urgent that you couldn’t even pause for two seconds?”

“Yes.”

You exhaled, shaking your head. “You’re crazy”

“And you’re distracting.”

“You love me, though.”

A flicker of something softened his expression. He didn’t answer immediately, just studied you with those impossibly sharp eyes, the ones that always seemed to be unraveling the mysteries of the universe—except, in that moment, they were solely on you.

“Yeah,” he murmured eventually, the intensity of it making your breath catch. “I do.”

It was rare, hearing it outright like that. He wasn’t one for grand proclamations, but when he did speak—when he let himself be honest—it always hit you like a tidal wave.

You swallowed, warmth pooling in your chest. “Then take a break.”

He sighed, exasperated but amused. Then, to your utter delight, he set his pen down.

“Two minutes,” he relented.

You grinned, holding out your arms. “Hug me.”

He stared. “…Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, like he was analyzing the request for its deeper meaning. Then, without another word, he leaned forward and pulled you against him.

You melted instantly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. His arms were strong, steady—the kind of embrace that felt unshakable, like he would hold the entire world together if it meant keeping you safe.

“…Better?” he murmured.

You nodded against him. “Much.”

His fingers lingered at your back, just the faintest trace of hesitation before he fully gave in, relaxing into the embrace.

And neither of you let go.

Dating him had been an adjustment.

He wasn’t the kind to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He was driven, always looking forward, always chasing after the next big thing. His brain never stopped, his heart never wavered, his ambition burning like an unstoppable fire.

Which meant he showed affection in his own way.

Like the way he never actually said I love you, but instead muttered things like, don’t forget to eat or stay inside, it’s cold.

Like the way he pretended to be annoyed when you interrupted his work, only to immediately pull you back when you tried to leave.

Like the way he sighed every time you teased him, only to let you lace your fingers with his under desks, his grip never faltering.

And the thing was?

You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

One evening, you were in the library together, him completely immersed in his research while you doodled aimlessly in your notebook.

The silence was comfortable, the kind that had become second nature between you.

Then, suddenly—

“…You make me reckless.”

You blinked. “Uh. Excuse me?”

He didn’t look up, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “You make me reckless,” he repeated, almost contemplative. “It’s irritating.”

You squinted at him. “Are you… saying you love me?”

He hummed. “Statistically, it would be hard to deny.”

Your heart stumbled over itself. “Oh my God.”

He finally looked up, arching a brow. “What?”

“You just confessed your love for me like it was a scientific fact.”

“…And?”

You let out a laugh, completely endeared. “You’re unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look annoyed. If anything, there was something fond in the way he regarded you, something soft in the way he reached out, tapping his fingers against your wrist.

“…You already knew,” he murmured.

It wasn’t a question.

Because of course you knew.

You had known for a long time now.

But hearing it—even in his own, methodical way—still sent warmth flooding through your entire being.

You smiled.

“Yeah,” you whispered, reaching for his hand, lacing your fingers together. “I did.”

And if he squeezed your hand just a little tighter?

Well.

You didn’t mention it.

#arcane x reader #arcane #viktor x reader #jayce x reader #vi x reader #caitlyn x reader #ekko x reader #sevika x reader #lesbian #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane headcanon #arcane imagines #x reader #jinx x reader #wlw

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jigglethemballs · 2 days ago

Text

Edging König for a week

You randomly mentioned it to konig one evening.

“So you think you could last being edged for a week?”

“Pff, of course! Do you know all the things i’ve seen and been through? Edging wouldn’t even be a challenge for me”

warning: edging, sub konig, soft dom reader, chubby/fat reader, denial, public masturbation, dramatic description of everything, unprotected penetration, unchecked for spelling mistakes don’t come for me

Day 1

You were seated on his lap on the couch. The tv being long forgotten, it’s only purpose now playing some faint background noise.

You’re now making out with konig and already feeling a bit fuzzy.

Your tongues are softly rubbing against each other, yours and his saliva becoming one as you both breathe heavy.

“My love aren’t i meant to be edged?” He asks when you break the kiss and target his sensitive neck.

“You are yes and this is part of it”

You suck on a specific area on his neck making his hips jolt up, applying pressure on both your covered private parts.

“König! Stay still” You scold him not expecting your needy pussy to be stimulated so suddenly.

“Can’t help it love” He smirks.

You quickly decide to get rid of his annoying smirk by humping down on him. Your pussy perfectly aligned on his stiffness.

“Fuck” He hisses, smirk now completely gone.

And that’s all you need to continue. You pick up the pace, making you both groan in pleasure. The pressure on your clit making your eyes roll.

König head is rolled back enjoying the feeling of you humping on him.

“Just like that, doing so well” He mumbles softly.

You’re both panting and konig starts to get louder. His groans turn into soft whimpers and his eyes are glued to your clothed parts rubbing on each other.

“Love i don’t think i’ll last” He whimpers ready to cum in his pants for you but before he realizes, the oh so delicious building pressure is gone.

He quickly looks up at you, confused and dazed.

“Good luck lasting the entire week” And you get off of him.

He looks at you wide eyed, desperate for more. The wet patch on his sweatpants of where his tip is indicating his precum leaked everywhere.

Day 2

He couldn’t sleep. Not with you laying besides him. He wonders how he’s supposed to last the entire week like that. Maybe he underestimated it all but it’s only the second day no way he can give up now or even admit it.

Youre getting ready for a night out with your girlfriends to celebrate one of their birthdays. König is laying on the bed while you try on some clothes to show him. You come out of the walk in closet with a dress showing all your pretty curves he loves so much.

“Does it look good?” You ask while looking at yourself in the mirror

He walks up to you and stands behind you grabbing your body from behind.

“You look delicious my love” He spins you around and tries to kiss you before you stop him.

“My makeup! You’ll ruin it” You protest and get out of his grasp.

You eventually go out and come back home around 1am. Your feet and head are throbbing and the only thing you want is to get in bed and sleep.

You enter your shared room and your precious man is stroking himself.

“Can you give me hand please” He says not even surprised you caught him.

“I’m sure you can take care of it yourself” You reply back and lean against the doorframe

His hands falters a bit but he just keeps going. He rubs his oozing tip and maintains eye contact with you.

“Don’t you want to help your desperate man?” He asks between groans

“You’re a big boy aren’t you?” You say back earning a whimper from him.

He starts stroking himself at a faster pace. His eyes never looking away from you. To tease him you slowly strip out of your dress. That has an effect on him as he whimpers louder.

“Love, touch me please” He pleads, honestly he looks great like this, a bit of sweat coating his forehead, his hand going up and down his precum coated dick.

You don’t reply but get on the bed. Laying your head on his thigh close to his stroking hand.

“Ah, ah i’m close” He says, eyes closing on their own

“Don’t you dare” you say firmly and he halts his movements

Panting he plops down on the bed and you caress his thigh.

Day 3

He’s already at his limit. How is it possible that his dick and balls have been throbbing nonstop since yesterday?

He wakes up hard, walks around hard. All he can think about is cumming. His mind flooded with the thought of being inside you and spilling his warm seeds.

You’re currently making dinner, you’ve seen a recipe you wanted to try and have been cooking away for an hour now.

König is desperate but he can’t admit defeat yet. His ego far too big. He walks up to you in the kitchen and immediately he’s twitching. The sight of you so domestic. Wearing a cute apron around your soft body clinging to your stomach.

He walks up behind you pressing himself to your behind.

You feel his hand on against you and decide to let him be. Noticing you don’t react to his presence he starts humping your ass.

It turns you on how desperate he seems to be. One arm around you he holds your shoulders and pants in your ear.

“Let me fuck you please, i need to feel her around me”

You just lift up your skirt exposing your soaked and naked pussy. He looks down at your naked body and removes his pants at the speed of light. Before he can do anything you stop him.

“You only get to fuck my thighs, understood?”

He groans dissatisfied but still listens. He guides his tip between your soft thighs pressed against each other, softly wetted by your slick running down

“Fucking hell” He moans and fucks your thighs at a quick pace.

“Baby let me fuck you properly, you’re being edged too here aren’t you? Let me pleasure her she’s so wet” He moans out in your ear.

As tempting as it all sounds you don’t give in.

His movements start to get more aggressive but also sloppy. His voice a pitch higher and you know that means he’s close.

“König don’t cum!” You warm him reminding him he has to stay on edge. Not long after he slips himself out of your pudgy thighs letting out a disappointed groan.

Day 4

He wakes up in the middle of the night sweaty and hard. All he can think about is your warmth enveloping his dick.

You’re sound asleep next to him and it takes everything inside of him not to wake you up. He grabs his dick and starts pumping it while looking at you.

A few pumps won’t matter right?

He’s staring at your pretty lips he’s used to have around him, your body he hasn’t properly grabbed in god knows how long, your beautiful tits he can stay between for days.

He gets closer to you and starts sniffing you. He doesn’t know why or what he’s trying to smell but he just wants more of you.

His lust filled mind can’t think straight now. He’s trying his best to stay quiet but his mouth isn’t obeying his orders.

Quickly he’s close to the edge. He doesn’t want to disappoint you but he’s also so desperate for that sweet release.

But as the good desperate boyfriend he is he slowly comes to a halt and stays up all night, dick reaching for the ceiling.

Day 5

Today you were both away busy taking care of your personal schedules.

His body is on autopilot, no external information is processed by his brain. Once again all he can think about is your hands and body all over him. He wants to taste you, touch you, fuck you. He’s losing his mind for real.

His phone buzzes while he’s having a conversation with someone about whatever, he doesn’t even know himself. And he nearly cums in his pants looking at the content of your message.

It’s a picture of your pussy, well not really. You’re wearing panties but the evident wet spot on them nearly makes him pass out.

You add a text.

“Go to a bathroom, fuck yourself for five minutes to this”

And he obeys right away. Rudely excuses himself from the conversation and almost trips into the empty bathroom.

His pants are down in a heartbeat and he’s stroking himself. The pretty outline of your pussy in the image making it hard for him to not spill right away. He looks at the time, only one minute went by and he’s already so close.

He slows down his movements. He can practically taste and smell you through the screen. He remembers all the times he’s been between those juicy legs lapping at your folds. He’s hungy, he’s thirsty, he needs you NOW.

And once again before he cums he stops and exactly 5 minutes have passed.

Day 6

Only one more day, only one more day, only one more day, only one more day.

His body is reacting to everything you do. If you’re just talking, hes foaming at the mouth looking at all the shapes your mouth makes. If youre walking around the place, hes admiring the movement of your hips and all the jiggle of your body.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

Today you want to get him to admit it’s difficult. So for that you bring out the big guns. Them being your mouth and hand.

You pushed him against the wall after what started as a few innocent kisses. His dick already forming a prominent dent in his pants.

“Please i need you so bad” He whimpers. You are so happy he’s so desperate and needy it’s such a good look on him you’re thinking about going for longer next time.

But right now you pull down his pants and grab him. He hisses between his teeth and his knees already want to give in.

You look up at him before giving a small lick at his tip.

“Fuck! I’m close” He moans grabbing your face.

You only smirk at him before fully taking in his dick. The warmth of your mouth nearly makes him die. He’s never had his senses enhanced so much. He’s floating on a cloud.

You slowly suck him off. His moans are stuck in his throat all he does is thrust forward into your throat.

His eyes are closed but you are sure they are rolled back as far as possible.

His dick and balls start to throb indicators of how close he is. And you let go with a pop.

He doesn’t even react. His body weak, his mind blank. All he does is stay put trying to control his breathing. And remembers he gets to cum tomorrow.

Day 7

Today is the day. He made it.

Currently you’re making out in your bed. He’s touching you, hungrily.

His body is so weak though, the entire week took a toll on him but still he wants this to be great because you basically edged yourself for as long as he did too.

“Let me taste you yeah?” He whimpers between kisses. And he leaves a trail of kisses down you body until your bare cunt.

She’s so pretty and delicious, he missed her so much.

He dives in not giving you any time to adjust to the pleasures. He sucks on your clit getting all sorts of moans and groans out of you.

He humps his dick into the bed, precum leaking so much it looks like he came already.

One finger of his rubs your entrance making you spread your legs even wider. He starts finger fucking you. His lips still sucking at your clit, you’re seeing stars.

“König fuck!” You moan his name and hump his face.

Suddenly you pull him up.

“Put it in, now” You order him and he gladly obeys.

“I won’t last” He enters your warm and wet folds.

His ears buzz, the world around him disappears. It’s just him and you. The pleasure he feels is otherworldly. And just like that, he cums.

He shoots ropes of cum inside of you, coating your delicate walls white. His body is shaking and his moans are loud.

He collapses on top of you.

You rub his back and give him many kisses all over his face.

He is spent.

“Never again” He says still inside of you.

“I was thinking about doing it for two weeks next time?” You say and he looks at you with horror.

#chubby reader #fat reader #konig smut #cod smut #plus size reader #black reader #sub konig #dom reader

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neiptune · 19 hours ago

Text

like real people do

cw: 2.8k wc, female reader, friends to lovers, literally black cat x labrador dynamic, you showed up one day and are still part of his life, it’s an axiom he would never expect to change. until one day you meet his brother for the first time and rin shits himself

“We should hang out tomorrow. Are you free?”.

“No”.

You frown.

“Would you have said yes, if you were?”.

Rin takes a moment to reply.

“Probably not”.

The grin you offer right away doesn’t surprise him, if anything it makes him roll his eyes with fake exasperation.

“I love how you never change”.

He nudges your shoulder with his arm, hands buried in the pockets of an expensive coat.

“You’re annoying”.

“I know, it’s my whole thing. You kinda agreed to it when you accepted me as a friend”.

“I never did such thing. You showed up one day and never left”.

Your giggle echoes across the empty street and Rin finds himself basking in your usual affection, something he’s well aware he hardly deserves.

It’s true, though. One day, back in high school, you were assigned to the same group project with two other classmates and that’s when the information of being in the same class in the first place was presented to him. You talked too much and smiled too often but when it came to doing actual work, you turned into a weirdly serious, responsible student. Instantly, too. Which would’ve been an interesting aspect of your personality, if he so much as cared.

You both ended up being the only two putting in real work to finish the project but the only thing Rin could think of was that he was relieved his perfect grades could stay perfect despite the dead weight. Except, you didn’t leave him alone ever since, apparently happy (always way too happy) to have found a new friend. He doesn’t remember how many times, throughout his high school years, he had to repeat that you two were not friends. Over and over again, the deterrent had failed miserably.

Rin has kinda made peace with your presence in his life by now, despite adulthood and your careers playing a significant role in keeping you apart, whenever he visits his hometown you’re there and whenever you happen to be where he is, you insist on seeing him. Stubborn as he’s always been, in his own mind Rin stands his ground that there’s nothing tragically wrong in allowing you to consider him your friend, still. There’s also nothing particularly dramatic in letting himself indulge in someone else’s obstinate fondness.

You’re a good person, he knows that much. Patient, generous, always the first to offer help and the last to ask for anything. You’re stupid. And gullible. Way too easy to take advantage of. It’s why he, to this day, still keeps an eye on you, walks you home in the middle of the night, doesn’t shut the door like he’d do with anyone else when you show up uninvited to his house. Sometimes he brings you something too, little mementos from his travels that hold no real meaning, despite the way your eyes shine with wonder when he begrudgingly hands them to you.

Rin knows you like him. Or at least you used to, so many years ago. He remembers hearing you confessing the secret to one of your closest friends. You never really told him, a good person but still too proud to give him the satisfaction of rejecting you, stood by his side when no one else would put up with his pissy attitude, always disregarding your feelings. Even when he had girlfriends you were there, feigning nonchalance. Stupid. He remembers how he immaturely tried to get you to admit it, shared petty details of his dates, told you he thought he was falling in love with other girls. Your smile barely faltered.

Why did you do that to yourself all that time, he still wonders. But then again he’d have to ask himself why his impatience, or rather lack of understanding, led him to kiss you when you were both visiting your families for the holidays, back from college.

Rin remembers the snow, the umbrella you were holding trying to clumsily cover him too. He remembers you were babbling some nonsense about how proud you were of him, of his career, the way you always knew he was destined to great things, his blue lock jersey still stored safely in the back of your closet. Rin remembers the way he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, dry and chapped from the cold. Was that truly the only way to get you to shut up? He doesn’t know. He just knows he didn’t expect you to take a step back, thank him for walking you home. The kiss was never mentioned again, the following day you acted like it never happened and he was glad he could carry on without the burden of weird expectations. Well, almost completely glad.

He didn’t kiss you because he liked you or desired something as unnecessary as a relationship, he’s sure of that. He just wanted to, in that moment. A stupid whim. And if the urge of shutting you up in the softest way has possessed him multiple times after that day and throughout the years, out of mere curiosity or simple convenience, he’s never really admitted it to himself.

You showed up one day, never left, are still part of his life. It’s an axiom he’d never expect to change. Perhaps he finds some comfort in it.

“You really can’t hang out tomorrow? ”, you’re doing that thing you always do when you’re disappointed, furrowed brows over big eyes that are rapidly losing their usual glow as you blink a few times. He sighs.

“I really can’t”.

“How long are you in town for?”.

“A few days”, he pauses for a second, then decides to concede, “we’ll have plenty of time”.

The way your lips immediately curl into a sweet smile almost makes him crack one too. Rin also loves how you never change.

“Oooh, you wanna hang out with me so bad!”.

“Shut up”.

“We’ll have plenty of time! Because I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world!”.

“Now you’re really pushing it”.

You laugh again, something tender settling over your features. He once more recognizes the affection in your gaze and has to look away.

Rin has hated October 10 for as long as he can remember.

It wasn’t always like that, as a kid it was a special day he got to celebrate his favorite person on. His brother went from being his personal hero and best friend, to a stranger he couldn’t recognize, to an adult he tries to have a decent relationship with, now. Still, October 10 is a hassle. If Sae is in town, something he tries to do for their sake, their parents always insist on having a small birthday celebration at home.

His mother spends hours decorating the living room, orders a cake so big it would require at least ten additional guests, they have so many gifts ready and wrapped by the table. For the past few years, Rin has been getting his brother a gift too. Not exactly a peace offering but the promise of getting there, perhaps.

It infuriates him that Sae still acts perfectly normal around him, never hostile, indifferent at best. They barely talk to each other but Rin doesn’t want to spend his entire life seething, he doesn’t want for one single feeling to define him anymore. So he also accepts the birthday gifts his brother sends him on September 9.

It’s just a day, he mentally repeats, it will be over soon. But he doesn’t expect the doorbell to ring, everything has already been delivered and they didn't invite anyone.

Rin certainly doesn’t expect you, standing on his doorstep with a million dollar smile and clearly hiding something behind your back.

“What are you doing here?”, he’s frozen, in disbelief. You’re not supposed to be there.

“Surprise!”, you grin, “look what I finally found!”.

You’re suddenly holding something so close to his face he has to take a moment to focus to understand what he’s looking at. It’s a horror game, one he’s looked everywhere for because they don’t sell those anymore. Rin only mentioned it once but of course you mentally took note and conducted your own, personal research. It must’ve costed you a fortune. You’re such an idiot.

“It’s not a good time”, he takes a step back, hoping you’ll get the hint and do the same. Your smile falls.

“I know. I just wanted to drop this off. Here”, you hand him the neatly packed gift. Rin takes it, then meets your gaze for a second. He wants to say something, apologize, but you’ve already turned your back to him and are quickly granting his wish of being left alone. He asks himself how much patience you have left, how close you are to abandoning him and his asshole ways for good.

“Who are you?”.

Rin freezes a second time, the voice behind him so close and oddly interested. You stop in your tracks, whip around to look at someone who isn’t him. Something hard flashes across your features but it’s quickly whisked away when you offer one of your usual, polite smiles.

“No one, I was just passing by”.

Something inside Rin cracks. No one? You can hardly ever shut up about being his friend.

Sae hums.

“You should come in. There’s extra cake”.

When their mom catches sight of you, she also invites you in and there’s really no turning back from that. You’re too well mannered, too acquainted with his family to refuse. So you indulge them.

From the kitchen, he observes something he never thought would (or should) happen. Sae, the most infuriatingly detached, impassive person on the planet, is sitting next to you on the couch, where you’re making polite conversation. He’s listening. Rin knows he’s listening because he keeps his eyes on you, stance relaxed. Who knows what nonsense you’re rambling about this time, unfinished cake in the paper plate balanced on your knees. He says something, you chuckle. Rin focuses on his own unfinished cake, suddenly nauseous.

All these years, this is the one thing he didn’t want to happen, you meeting his brother. It’s petty and childish and Rin isn’t even quite sure why the desire to keep you from him has burned ardently this entire time but the fact that his efforts have vanished in the space of one afternoon brings a strange weariness.

By the time you excuse yourself, his parents are begging you to stay over for dinner. You refuse, thank them, thank Sae the most and wish him the happiest birthday. He dismisses your formality with the vague wave of a hand, says he hopes to meet you again. You smile sweetly.

“There’s no need”.

Rin ignores your objection similarly to how you ignored him the entire afternoon, finishes buttoning up his coat instead. He always walks you home and today will be no exception.

The silence between you two is so uncharacteristic it irritates him, to the point of affliction. Are you that upset with him? Ah, the magic must’ve finally flickered out.

“So, how was it?”, he spitefully pushes, “meeting the legendary brother”.

You keep your gaze on the street.

“It was okay”.

Rin scoffs.

“Just okay? You two really hit it off”.

“He was kind to me”.

“I’m sure he was”.

You finally stop in your tracks to look at him.

“Just because we’re friends it doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole all the time, you know”.

Rin stops too, lips parted, breath condensating into a tiny cloud by his mouth. The serious look you’re fixing him with makes his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry”, he murmurs. Your gaze softens and he hates it, how easy it is for you to cut him some slack.

“Can you tell me what’s really wrong, Rin?”.

He feels like throwing up.

“Nothing is wrong”.

You hum, pensive, take the time to kick a tiny rock with the tip of your boot.

“I really think you should give yourself some grace. You deserve some peace”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“It means you’re so focused on protecting yourself from imaginary threats, you can’t see”.

“See what?”.

You offer a sad smile.

“How bright you shine”.

Rin is so taken aback he doesn’t know what to say, surprise paralyzing his entire body. He hasn’t felt like this in a while, perhaps years. It’s not fair that you have access to such a vulnerable side of him, it’s not fair that he can suddenly sense a weird lump in his throat.

“I don’t shine-”, he spits the word out, disgusted.

You’re usually very careful about his boundaries, whether they’re a hoax or not. But this time? You do something you’ve never done before, roughly take his face in your cold hands to make sure he keeps his gaze on you instead of avoiding it like a coward.

“You shine, Rin. I’m so tired of you being the only one refusing to see it. You’re the most resilient, talented, hardworking person I know. You did good. But the challenge is over, there is no war anymore, you don’t have to persist in this stubborn seclusion”, your eyes are suddenly wet, tears precariously collecting in your lash line, “you get to rest, now. Please, be proud of yourself and rest. There’s nothing to be on your guard against”.

He doesn’t remember his heart ever squeezing as painfully in his chest before, the urge to take your face in his hands making the pads of his fingers itch. He doesn’t remember the last time he came so close to let a few tears fall.

He’s gonna take you too. Just like he takes everything from me.

The thought takes his breath away for a moment. He feels your thumb gently stroke his cheek.

“You’re the legendary brother to me, anyway”, you smile, then sniffle.

Has he split himself wide open for you or are you simply that good at reading him? Rin can feel his hands shake when they fist the fabric of your plush jacket.

“Why are you telling me this?”, he can barely recognize the desperation vibrating in his own voice, “why do you even put up with me?”.

You blink a few times, astonished. Then smile again, warm and bright like the sun. Oh, he doesn’t shine, you do.

“Because I love you, obviously”.

And Rin doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to wonder what you mean. He knows. He’s known all this time.

“Why did you never tell me?”.

“Because you wouldn’t have let me do it in peace”, you chuckle, “you don’t like me like that so you wouldn’t have let me love you. As if I needed something in return. As if loving you as a friend couldn’t possibly be enough, anyway”.

His fingers are hurting from how tightly he’s still fisting the fabric of your jacket. It feels like his insides are exploding with a million different emotions and he doesn’t have nearly enough time to interpret them. But does he really need that, after all? Time. He’s known you for so long.

“Stop putting up a fight, silly”, you let go of his face but flick his forehead, to which he grimaces, surprised, “let me love you. I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world after all! Who cares about your stupid brother? No wait, that came out mean, I just meant I care more about you than-”

Rin’s sudden embrace is suffocating, you’re pressed against him so tightly you genuinely struggle taking a single breath. You don’t remember him ever hugging you, the most noteworthy intentional contact you can recall is his arm around your shoulders when you insisted on taking a cute selfie, once. Every other hug, you had always initiated. His arms were always loose around you, cautious, despite his forehead often resting on your shoulder.

His clothes smell nice. He smells nice. You close your eyes, bask in a warmth so strange yet familiar. You don’t think you’ll ever love someone the way you love him.

“You’re so stupid”, Rin murmurs against your neck. With a smile, you nuzzle your face further into his chest.

“So I’ve been told”.

He thinks his heart might be seconds away from slamming itself free from his ribcage.

“Can you tell me again?”.

“What, that I don’t care about your brother? Sure, fuck Itoshi Sae. Oh no, that was also way too mean, don’t tell him I said-”

Rin pulls away abruptly, hands kept on your shoulders to keep you there or maybe to steady himself. You shut your mouth, don’t comment damp cheeks dusted with pink. It may be the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him.

“Not that, you idiot”, his pitch is gentle, with a hint of amusement. One of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently skimming over your lips.

“I love you”, it comes out less bold now, timid. Something melts in his chest all the same.

“Will you pretend it never happened, if I kiss you now?”.

Your exhale is shaky.

“No”.

All these years and this is the first time you’re seeing Itoshi Rin truly, openly smile. The sight does something funny to your stomach.

“Good”.

#rin x reader #rin x you #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #itoshi rin x reader #I'm very nervous about his one please be kind lol

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xxsinisterbunniexx · 2 days ago

Text

Running into Spider Webs - Ticci Toby x Female reader NSFW

Warnings: dubcon

Tags: partying, drinking, reader is a DUMB IDIOT, degradation, fingering, oral sex, face fucking, overstimulation, forced orgasm, squirting, German dirty talk, creampie

Words: 8.8k

Summary: After a heated argument with your roommate you find yourself alone at a playground in the middle of the night, trying your best to cool down. Your rage filled antics inadvertently capture the attention of Toby. Charmed by his ability to say whatever he thinks and intrigued by his mysteriousness, you find yourself going along with whatever he says. As the night goes on, you start to realize this strangely attractive boy may be more than you bargained for.

As always: ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆ all canon will be flexible to make way for sexy ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆

This is my last fic to crosspost from AO3 so my fics will undoubtedly come out at a slower rate from here on out :P

This was my first attempt at a more lore accurate Toby! I had to do a lot of research on his original characterization and his disorders but I’m satisfied with how it came out!

I was also greatly inspired by @annokan she makes really awesome art of Toby and she has an excellent characterization of him so I recommend checking out her blog :3

“FUCK YOU!” You screamed before slamming the door behind you. You raced down the steps of the porch and down onto the sidewalk. The cool summer night air felt good on your face, but it was doing nothing to cool your temper.

You were seething with rage, stomping down the street, not even sure where you were planning on going. All you could see was red. You only knew one thing.

I need to get the fuck away from her!

It was already dark outside. Normally, your common sense would’ve told you not to be walking around alone at night, but you were so livid you couldn’t think straight.

You trudged all the way to the playground at the end of the neighborhood. It was completely empty. No kids were playing at this time of night. They actually had some sense, unlike you.

You walked up to a bench and plopped down, angrily mumbling to yourself. “Fuck her… stupid fucking…. Ugh!”

You couldn’t sit down for long. You were still fuming. Your feet hit the pavement and you rose up, still stomping around and throwing your hands around angrily while mumbling. Unbeknownst to you, someone was watching you from the woods. He was rather intrigued by your behavior. What was a pretty girl like that doing out here alone?

You were still ranting on angrily, pacing around the playground. “I swear I’m gonna fucking kill her!” You half shrieked.

The words you had just uttered fully piqued his curiosity. Now he wanted to play with you.

You groaned again in frustration, pressing your head into one of the poles that supported the playground for dramatic effect. You closed your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, almost feeling like you had gotten everything out of your system.

A hand on your shoulder jolted you out of your thoughts as you whipped around and shrieked.

A tall guy with messy brown hair looked slightly startled by your reaction. He was wearing a mask that covered half his face, but you were still able to see a good amount of it.

“Sorry.” He said half-heartedly, chuckling a little. “I just -fuck- I saw you out here acting crazy and wanted to see what you’re up to?” He jerked his head to the side in the middle of his sentence, correlated with the swear.

His answer seemed innocent enough, yet internally he was loving the scared little bunny look you got when he surprised you.

“Shit! Fuck… sorry you really scared me.” You let out a deep breath, feeling a bit relieved it wasn’t some scary murderer.

You looked him over a bit better now. From what you could see of his face, you could tell he was fairly attractive. He wore a hoodie and jeans, a pretty normal outfit except for the goggles on his head. You wondered what those were for.

“I caught you throwing your hands around and talking to yourself so I just wondered what the hell you were doing. Are you a crazy person?” He asked, rather bluntly.

“Oh my god…” The realization of how you probably looked from his perspective washed over you. “Fuck man, I’m sorry. I know it looks like I’m some type of crazy person. I swear I’m not. Truth is, I actually just got in a big argument with my roommate so I’m out here trying to cool my head but it’s not really working.”

“Oh, yeah? What -fuck- happened?” Once again he jerked his neck in tandem with the swear.

You paused for a second. Were you really just gonna air out all your business to a total stranger? Did it really matter though? You were still boiling with anger and very conveniently there is a guy here who is willing to listen to you.

“Well basically, she keeps having her boyfriend over like 24/7, and like I don’t mind him being there sometimes, but everyday? It’s just ridiculous. Like I don’t pay to live with a dude y’know?”

“Sounds to me like you got yourself another roommate.” He laughed to himself.

“Yeah, and it’s not one I wanted. It’s like I can’t walk around my apartment without feeling a little on edge cause there’s a man around. What if I wanted to walk around wearing tiny booty shorts? Well, can’t now.” You said with a huff, leaning against the pole.

He laughed at your booty shorts comment. “Why not just tell him to get the fuck out?” He sounded like he didn’t quite understand the issue.

“Well, I can’t do that.” You joked. “That would make her really mad.”

He looked like he still didn’t understand for a second. “So you’re out here having a spasm cause you didn’t want to make her mad?”

“A spasm?” You smirked a little. “I mean yeah I guess so.” You smiled a little more.

“That’s funny. You’re funny.” He laughed. “-fuck-"

You just eyed him for a moment, before gaining the courage to ask. “Do you mind if I ask what’s with the…?” You imitated the jerking motion he had just done.

His face went dark for just a split second, so quickly you almost thought you imagined it, then immediately went back to normal. “I have Tourette’s, actually.” He said a little awkwardly.

Your hand slapped over your mouth. “Oh my god. I’m so fucking sorry. That was super fucked up of me.” You apologized profusely.

He laughed a little at how panicked you got, you were so naïve. “A little bit, but I’m willing -cough- to overlook it cause you’re funny.”

“No, I’m super fucked up, I really am sorry. Damn.” You kept babbling like an idiot.

He laughed more, and you couldn’t help but think he was a little cute. He had a nice laugh too. You started to wonder what he looked like under that mask.

“It’s fine. People have said a lot worse.” His comment made it sound like it was no big deal, but it still made you wonder what people have said in the past.

“Well that’s super fucked up!” You blurted. “If people have said bad stuff about it I mean…” you continued. When he didn’t say anything you felt the need to keep going. “Cause like, you know, it’s not your fault and people shouldn’t judge you for that.”

The longer you kept talking the more stupid you felt, but it was like word vomit, you just couldn’t stop. He was enjoying watching you stumble over your words.

“You really are funny.” He said in a tone that almost sounded flirtatious. Almost. You were quite intriguing to him. He had the urge to mess with you more, to watch you squirm. He could attack you or chase you but… that wouldn’t be very fun... yet. Maybe later.

The wind blew, and you shivered a bit. It then dawned on you that although it was summer, it was still nighttime. Your crop top and shorts weren’t doing much to keep you warm. That’s what you get for being impulsive and running out of the house.

“Are you cold?” He asked, now sitting a little closer to you.

“Yeah, I just kinda ran out of the house in what I had on.” You laughed. “If you couldn’t tell, I don't think much.”

“Do you want to wear my hoodie?” He asked.

“What?! No, no! That’s yours. I wouldn’t take it and make you cold.”

“It’s okay, I can’t feel it.” He said casually, already taking off his hoodie.

You cocked your head to the side, a confused expression on your face. “What, you mean like the cold doesn’t bother you?”

“No, I can’t feel it.” He said again, as if it were a no brainer.

He already handed it to you before you could refuse it again, so you put it on. It was quite warm and smelled like the woods, a faintly pleasant smell. “That’s kind of funny actually, I figured you were just super chilly, since you have that mask on.”

“No, -fuck- that’s for a -fuck- different reason.” He ticked twice in one sentence, it seemed like you pointing out the mask might’ve put him on edge. He was jerking around a bit more too.

“Oh… I mean you don’t have to tell me why.” You stated adamantly, waving your hands in front of you, signaling it was no big deal.

“I have a scar on -fuck-” he coughed and jerked a bit more. “On my face. It -fuck- freaks some people out so I keep it hidden.”

“Oh. Well… you don’t have to hide it from me?” You said. “I won’t judge you if you take it off.”

He mumbled something to himself that you couldn’t quite hear and then slowly took it off. Under his mask was a large gash on his left cheek, it went all the way through his face, exposing his teeth. He also had two silver lip rings on either side of his mouth.

You took in his face with awe, your jaw slowly falling open a bit. The scar was something to behold for sure, but to you it only made him more interesting. It was like gazing at a work of art, terrifyingly beautiful.

“Woah… that’s… gnarly.” You said softly, as if to yourself. Then you realized what you said and slapped your hand over your mouth. “Shit! I mean, sorry, that was fucked up.”

His facial expression hadn’t changed but you kept going, the word vomit was back. “I meant gnarly as in like it’s really cool, not that it's gross or something! I think it’s awesome! Well wait… is that fucked up to say too? I feel like the way you got it probably wasn’t pleasant...” You rambled on.

He only watched you with a little amused expression, letting you dig your grave further cause he found it funny.

“Can I touch it?” You asked, already bringing your fingers up to lightly touch the edge of the scar. “Oops, I’m already touching it.” You continued verbalizing all your thoughts like the filter in your brain was broken.

Realizing your mistake, you instantly retracted your hand at lighting speed. “Did that hurt?!”

“Nope. I can’t feel pain either.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Hm?” You cocked your head again. “What do you mean you can’t feel pain?”

“I have CIPA. It has a longer name but I won’t say it cause it’s a mouthful and you won’t remember it anyways. But basically, I can’t feel pain. Oh and also, I can’t feel temperature, that’s why I’m not cold.”

“Oh! Well… still I’m sorry for touching it.” You looked at the ground, feeling a little embarrassed by your impulsive actions and words.

“You don’t want to touch me? Cause the scar is nasty?” He smiled.

Your face immediately became shocked. “No! That’s not it at all! I meant what I said when I said I think it’s cool.” You took a breath. “I… well I kinda think it makes you look like a work of art.” You said awkwardly, a slight blush on your cheeks.

He eyed you for a second before saying, “You’re kinda weird.” He was very blunt about it but was still smiling.

“What?” You cracked a smile. “You’re kinda weird.”

You found yourself drawn in by him. You wanted to know more about this strange man who seemed to pop up out of nowhere and fix your mood. He was so direct and honest, different from the majority of people. You found yourself feeling really relaxed around him somehow, even though you were majorly fucking up at every point in this conversation. Maybe it was because he was so blunt, it was like you didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking.

“Yeah, I know. But you’re weirder. Something’s seriously wrong with you.”

“For what? Just cause I think your scar is cool? You’re the weirdo here, you approached me out of nowhere when I was bugging out like a crazy person. What were you even doing out here anyways?”

“Oh.” He said like he just remembered. “Actually, I was on my way to a -cough- party.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh! You should get going then! I don’t wanna keep you here if you have people waiting on you.”

“No, it’s not a party like that. It’s a big party. Besides, no one would be waiting on me.” He chuckled. Then his face lit up a bit, like he got an idea. “You should come with me.”

You were a bit thrown off by his offer. It was so sudden and you barely knew him.

But… you didn’t want to go home, you were still fuming from that argument. Plus, there was something so intriguing about him, so magnetic.

Was it a good idea? Probably not. You can’t trust someone you don’t know. Only an idiot would go with him. The situation was full of red flags. A logical person would’ve said no, however, it was a well known fact that above all else, you were impulsive, naïve, and a little dumb.

“Really? Okay, let’s go!” You said excitedly.

—

The party was a short walk away, but in that time you were able to uncover just a little more information on him, like his name. As you approached the house you realized Toby hadn’t lied, this was a big party. The yard was full of people, lining the porch, standing in little circles on the grass, and scattered around, and that was just outside.

You could hear the music from outside and see the lights flashing in the windows. A giddy feeling rose in your chest. This is exactly what you needed to get your mind off things.

You recognized a few people as the two of you strolled up to the door. You didn’t know who was throwing the party, but you figured it was someone who went to your university, since it was close to campus and some of your classmates were here.

As you approached the door Toby slid to the side and opened it for you.

“Oh my, how chivalrous.” You said dramatically.

“Giving you my jacket, open -fuck- opening the door for you, I think I may be in the running for gentleman of the year.” He said sarcastically, placing a dominant hand to your lower back to guide you inside.

His lack of respect for personal space didn’t seem to bother you, but you were a little surprised at how easily he could get close to you and touch you, considering you had only just met. Despite this, it still made you feel a little safer, almost like you were being protected. This party was full of people you didn’t know, so it was nice to have him guide you through the house.

The music was booming, so Toby leaned in close to your ear, “Do you want a drink?”

Although the gesture felt pretty necessary given the noise, you still felt a little tickle go down your spine when he did it. Your face blushed just a little bit. “Oh…! Uh… yeah! Let’s get some.” You answered as you both made your way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was full of alcohol. Bottles of all kinds of liquor decorated the counter. Your eyes ran over the choices a couple of times.

“Don’t know what to pick?” Toby asked.

“I’m just really indecisive.” You laughed.

“I’ll make you something.” He said and then started pouring you a drink, mixing a few liquors and some Sprite.

“You’re only making one?” You asked.

“I can’t -fuck- really drink since I -fuck- have to wear the mask.” He said a little nervously, which made you feel kinda stupid.

Duh, of course he wants to wear it here.

He turned and handed you the drink. Since you watched him make it, you figured it was safe enough to drink. You took a sip, coughing a little as the liquor burned your throat. “Fuck, that’s strong.” You coughed more and added a bit more Sprite to your cup to make it drinkable.

He laughed at you. “Didn’t know you couldn’t hold your -fuck- liquor.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You gave him a playfully skeptical look.

“Of course. How else could I get you to hang around me?” He said sarcastically and guided you into the living room.

You both sat down on the couch and once again you took notice of how close he sat to you. You were intently trying to decipher whether or not he was into you, but you were always kind of bad at being able to tell.

His eyes continuously scanned the room, like he was looking for something, or rather, someone.

“Are you looking for a friend?” You asked.

He looked a little thrown off by your question, defensive almost?

Odd…

He cleared his throat and then answered, “No, just scoping out the room.”

A little burst of excitement hit you, that drink was already kicking in. “Ooo~ do you wanna walk the floor?” You asked.

“What’s that?”

“It’s like you walk around a party just to see if there’s anyone you know here and to get a feel for everyone. You wanna do it?” You smiled.

“You bet.” He grabbed you and pulled you up with him.

You linked elbows with him. “Okay, let’s go!” You were giddy with excitement.

You felt a little stupid about it since it hadn’t been that long, but it seemed like you were already developing a bit of a crush on him. Being this close to him made your heart race. Your chest felt warm and at this point you couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or Toby.

You strutted around the house with Toby in tow, your eyes wandering over all the people.

You bumped into someone with a little “oof.” You looked up to see Cassie, a good friend of yours who was in a lot of your classes.

“Hey!!!” She immediately exclaimed, the intoxication apparent.

“Omg hiiii!!!” You had already drank about three fourths of your cup and it was starting to show.

“Who’s this?” She said with a little giggle, her eyes flitting up to Toby and then back to you.

“Oh! His name’s Toby!” You grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to you. “We met like an hour ago at a playground.”

“I caught her acting like a maniac.” He added.

“Okay, so your usual?” Cassie laughed.

With your attention directed at Cassie, you missed the way Toby’s attention was caught as someone passed through the room. He leaned in close to you, his voice now serious. “I’ll be right back.”

You failed to notice his change in tone, too distracted by everything going on around you. “Okay, don’t get lost.” You giggled again.

“Hey.” Cassie grabbed your hand. “We were just about to play Just Dance, you wanna join?”

Drunk Just Dance? There was nothing that could’ve peaked your interest more.

“I’m in!”

—

Song after song later, you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. You were starting to sober up, but you were still well into the tipsy stage.

You looked at the time. “Fuck.”

I forgot about Toby!

You felt like a massive idiot. He had said he was going to be right back and then you had walked away from where he left you. You were really starting to like him and now he probably thought you had just blown him off. Was he even still at the party?

You wandered around trying to scope out if he was still around. It was a bit easier now since less people were at the party. You were starting to panic a bit, the feeling of anxiety aching in your chest now. You felt like you really fucked up.

Next thing you knew, you had bumped into him.

He instantly leaned down, getting close to your face, his voice sounding a little sultry. “Hey, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Toby!” You sounded relieved and excited, it seemed like he wasn’t mad at you at all, keeping the same playfulness he had earlier.

“So, where have you been?” His voice sounded slightly flirtatious.

“Playing Just Dance!” You said goofily. Your eyes trailed down to his shirt, which now had a small stain on it near the bottom. It was hard to tell since it was still dark in the house, but it almost looked like blood. “What’s that?” You pointed to it.

“Oh. I ended up helping -cough- my buddy who got a really bad nosebleed.” He said nonchalantly, then immediately changed the subject. “Let’s leave.” He said, grabbing your arm before you had a chance to respond.

You looked around, the party was dying down anyways. You still didn’t want to go back home to face your roommate, but it seemed like you didn’t really have another option.

Just before you were about to walk out the door together you felt a tug on your arm. It was a friend of yours, one you didn’t know too well but you’d seen her around during classes and at parties. Amber… was her name? Maybe? She pulled you a little closer and then attempted to whisper but it seemed this girl was a little tipsy herself so it wasn’t that quiet. “Hey… are you good?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, also failing to whisper.

“Y’know.” Her eyes darted to Toby standing behind you and then back to yours. “I’ve never seen you with him before.”

“Oh thattt.” You let out a tipsy giggle. “Nah, nah. I’m fine. I know him.”

“And you wanna go with him…?” She eyed him warily again and then looked back at you.

“Like haha shhhhhh.” You giggled, trying to be more secretive about your little crush. “Yes, I wanna go with him. Don’t worry.”

Given your abhorrent attempt at whispering, Toby was following this whole conversation. Neither of you could see due to the lack of lighting in the room, but he got the absolute worst wolfish grin on his face when he heard you say that.

He’d successfully trapped you.

—

You felt like you were really winding down once you guys got outside. The slight chill of the wind and the lack of music in your ears made you feel a lot more placid, almost sleepy.

Toby noticed your change in mood. “Tired?”

“Mm.” You hummed in agreement. “But I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see that bitch yet.” You realized the way your statement sounded belatedly, after it had already left your mouth.

Well now it sounds like you want to go home with him!

Truth be told, you weren’t opposed to doing so, but it wasn’t your intention to be so forward. “Wait- I mean-"

“Are you saying you want to come home with me?” You could tell he was smirking underneath his mask.

“I wasn’t trying to- I mean I wouldn’t mind but- well- what I’m trying to say is-" The way you stumbled over your words felt like you were falling down a hill, catching on branches and rocks the whole way down.

“No, I understand.” He giggled a little. “We’ll have to sneak, though.” He didn’t hesitate to pick you up bridal style, which felt so sudden to you that your whole face went red. He held you like you were weightless and it dawned on you that he was a lot stronger than he looked.

“You don’t have to carry me! And what do you mean sneak?”

“I’ve got some… uh… roommates. They -fuck- would definitely try to eat a pretty girl like you up.” He chuckled a little darkly. “Your face is very red.”

“Because you picked me up out of nowhere!” You exclaimed.

“You’re kind of perverted, you know that?” He was grinning under his mask.

“I’m not!”

“I bet your head’s just full of dirty thoughts.” He giggled.

“I’m not thinking anything like that!” You almost whined, trying to defend yourself.

He only giggled in response, continuing to tease you.

—

After a long walk in his arms you came upon a huge mansion in the middle of the woods. It looked quite old, but not rundown. No, it was very well kept, looking almost… unnatural.

Just who is this guy?!

It wasn’t at all what you were expecting. What guy his age could afford to live in a house like that, even with roommates? On the other hand, it was out in the middle of the woods, far from the rest of town. Maybe someone had died here and it was haunted so him and a few buddies were able to buy it for super cheap? No, but still, a house like this was insane.

“This is where you live?”

“Why else would I bring you here?” He acted like it wasn’t weird at all. “Now shhh, we’re gonna have to get past my roommates.” The last word came out like it wasn’t very natural for him to say. He set you down on your feet. You were glad you were feeling a lot more sober now, otherwise something like this would be a real challenge.

The door creaked slightly as he slowly pushed it open. You followed behind him.

The mansion was even more shocking on the inside. The whole place had a very gothic feel. The ceilings were high, the lighting was dark, and the detailing was so intricate. It was stunningly beautiful, but something about the place sent a chill down your spine. Maybe it really was haunted or maybe someone really did die here. You couldn’t quite place why you felt on edge.

Something just felt off.

He held your hand and pulled you along, guiding you through the house which felt like a maze. You heard distant voices and figured those were the roommates you weren’t supposed to meet. Even though a situation like this was seemingly low stakes you felt overly anxious. You were deathly afraid of getting caught, as if you were hiding from a serial killer or something.

He brought you to a door you assumed led to his room and ushered you in. Upon entering you looked around. It was pretty messy but not in a dirty, rotting food kind of way, more of an organized chaos kind of way. There were clothes strewn about the floor and different pieces of paper and sticky notes with scratchy handwriting on them lined the walls, organized in no particular way. A lot of them had a symbol that you didn’t recognize. It looked like a circle with an X through it. There was a bookshelf that was filled with anything but books. It had lots of old CDs and DVDs, along with random trinkets. There were so many things to look at your eyes were darting around like ping pong balls.

You didn’t have long to take in the room before you were slammed against the door, Toby’s lips on yours. A warm feeling grew in your chest as you returned the kiss. One of his hands slid down to your waist as the other tangled in your hair. He bit your bottom lip a little bit, signaling you to open your mouth for him.

Your hands gripped at the front of his shirt as you obliged. He slid his tongue into your mouth and you felt a jolt of electricity travel down your body to your core. The kiss was intense. You barely felt like you could keep up, like you were drowning in him.

Your heart was racing, your whole body became pleasantly warm, excitement rushing through you. His borderline ferocity made you feel incredibly desirable. He wedged his leg between your thighs and you became very aware of his need for you, feeling his erection press against your stomach.

His lips found your neck, trailing warm open mouth kisses down it. You shivered, arching into his touch. You unconsciously began to move your hips against his leg, craving more friction. He made a noise that sounded almost like a growl and hooked his hands under your thighs, picking you up effortlessly.

He moved over to the bed and sat down, helping you straddle his waist. He kissed your neck again as soft moans escaped your lips. He bit down without warning, causing you to squeak a little both from the surprise and the pain. He sucked hard over the skin he had just bitten. Your moans got a little louder as he left a dark purple hickey on your neck.

He pulled away just enough to look at it, his breath still hot on your neck. “You’re marked.” He chuckled huskily. “How pretty.” He gently ran his fingers over it, causing you to shiver again.

He mumbled something amusedly that sounded like “pathetic.” But you couldn’t quite hear it.

He moved to the other side of your neck, intent on making more marks while his hand slipped under your shirt, squeezing your chest through your bra. His movements were a bit twitchy, but it didn’t bother you.

He was buzzing with excitement, elated to be touching you in such a way. He started to pull up your shirt and you raised your arms, helping him take it off.

You could tell he was holding back a bit, trying to take his time with you. You were starting to feel a little impatient as well, so you decided to grind yourself in his lap, feeling his erection pressing against your aching core.

You bit your lip when you heard him groan. He moved to unhook your bra, awkwardly fumbling with the clasp for a moment before he got it. He took one of your nipples into his mouth and you wrapped your arms around his neck, encouraging him to continue.

His free hand snaked down your stomach to your waistband, the light touch feeling ticklish before he dipped his fingers into your shorts and into your panties.

He sighed when he felt how dripping wet you were. “Lift your hips for me.”

Your face got red but you did as he asked, lifting up so he could pull off your shorts and your panties. You settled back into his lap as he continued to coat his fingers in your arousal. You felt so exposed, especially considering the position he had you in and the fact that he was still fully clothed.

“Spread your legs for me a little more, pretty girl.” He looked overwhelmingly pleased as you once again did as he asked. He ran his fingers over your clit, applying gentle pressure and teasing your entrance occasionally. You bucked your hips involuntarily as he did. “So needy.” He sneered.

He continued to tease you for a little, loving the way you squirmed and tried not to moan. Without warning he dipped his finger into you. You gripped his shoulders hoping to ground yourself a bit.

“Fuck…!” You breathed out.

He curled his finger inward, pressing against your g-spot. You squeezed his shoulders harder, your head tipped backward and your eyes fluttered shut. He was absolutely entranced watching your reactions. He wanted to see more of you, to see how far he could push you.

He slipped a second finger in and used his other hand to hold you still, his fingers gripping your hip with a bruising force.

“You like this a lot, don’t you?” He whispered in your ear. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tightly. I can’t wait to put my cock in you.” He brought his thumb up to rub your clit in circles.

You inhaled sharply, both from his words and the overwhelming stimulation. You felt yourself squeeze his fingers even more. Your arousal was dripping down your thighs and surely all over his hand too. You couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit embarrassed about how worked up you were getting.

Your moans started to increase in frequency, getting higher and breather as you felt your orgasm start to build deep in your stomach.

“It feels good, doesn’t it? Tell me how good it feels.” He continued to whisper in your ear, his grip on your hip somehow getting tighter.

You continued to whimper, not wanting to verbalize exactly how he was making you feel.

“You better tell me or I’ll stop right now.”

An extra pathetic sounding whimper escaped you before you spoke, “So good… s-so fucking good, Toby…” You slurred. You were getting so close, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s it. What a good girl. You wanna come for me, pretty girl?” His voice sounded breathier now too.

“Toby…! I-I can’t…!” You leaned into his shoulder, your whimpers and moans muffled.

“Fuck.” He breathed as he felt your walls convulse around his fingers. He kept moving his fingers but slower, helping draw out your orgasm.

You shuddered in his lap, trying to regain your ability to think after how hard you just came. It seemed you wouldn’t be getting that luxury though, as Toby immediately gripped under your thighs again, pulling you up so he could roll over on top of you. In seconds he was down by your still throbbing heat.

“Wai-”

“You’re really sensitive.” He breathed over your clit. “I want to make you come more.” He looked almost feral, completely drunk on lust. It was like he wasn’t going to be able to hear anything you were saying.

He pushed your thighs apart, once again using such a force that would undoubtedly leave bruises. You wondered if maybe he didn’t realize how strongly he was gripping you since he couldn’t feel pain.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, sucking it at a rhythm that had you arching off the bed and gripping onto his hair for dear life. He only chuckled darkly and then lapped over your clit a few more times before dipping lower to tease your entrance.

You were still so sensitive from the last time you came, it only took seconds before you felt another orgasm building. He was back at your clit, licking it and sucking it so sloppily that a mix of your wetness and his spit was making a puddle on the bed under you.

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as the mind numbing pleasure took over your body. “Toby….!” You squeaked out. There were a few full moments that your head went fully blank before you came down, panting from how hard you just came.

Toby climbed back up your body, hovering over you with his hands placed on either side of your head. He stared down at you, a glint in his eyes that seemed almost obsessive, like he was completely amazed by you. “You’re perfect.”

Your whole face flushed, even after what you guys had just done, words like those shot an arrow through your heart.

He leaned down and captured your lips again; you could taste yourself on his tongue. His body pressed close to yours as one of his hands snaked down to clasp yours, pulling it up by your head. Your chest felt warm and giddy. You secretly hoped this wouldn’t be just a one time hookup because you were starting to really like him.

He pulled away from your lips and pressed kisses down your jaw again, making it down to your neck, nuzzling it a bit while you giggled. This was almost too perfect.

A blood curdling scream shocked you out of your lovesick daze. You jolted up while Toby stayed put, still lightly kissing and sucking your neck.

“Toby, what was that…?!” Your voice trembled as you spoke.

“It’s probably just one of my roommates.” He mumbled nonchalantly into your neck.

“But-" You were cut off by more screams, one of which vaguely sounded like a cry for help.

“Toby…!” You exclaimed. “What the hell is going on out there?!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Something was very, very wrong here. You were out at this creepy old mansion in the middle of the woods. You instantly got murder vibes when you got here. Toby had blood on his shirt earlier. Now you’re hearing someone scream bloody murder and Toby is completely unconcerned.

You took a deep breath before pushing Toby up gently so you could look him in the eyes. “Toby, can I ask you a question and will you answer me honestly?”

He sat up fully, looking like he knew what was about to happen.

You sat up as well, still clutching his hand. “Toby, are you a murderer? Is this some kind of murder house?”

He got a lazy grin on his face. “I had a feeling you were gonna ask me that.”

“Toby…” you said his name again, desperately needing an answer to your question.

“Yeah, I murder people sometimes.” He admitted, jerking his head a few times.

Great. Just great. You really liked this guy and he just had to be a murderer. You didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was the shock. You couldn’t have been thinking straight because the next thing you asked was, “Were the people you killed… were they at least bad people?”

“Everyone is sort of a bad person when you really think about it. No one is truly good, even you.” He smirked, lifting your chin. “Besides, I don’t really -fuck- choose who I kill. I just kill whoever Slenderman tells me to kill.” More twitching.

“Slenderman…?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“He’s like an evil entity thing that’s been alive for thousands of years. He makes people his proxy to kill for him. It’s a lot to explain but he’s like my boss.” He said, like it was the most casual thing ever.

Right, just drop that like it’s nothing I guess!

“He’s your boss? Why… how did you start working for him?”

“Oh yeah.” He pulled off his shirt, revealing his somewhat muscular frame, littered with scars. Something clunked to the ground, and you looked down to see a bloodstained hatchet. Prying your eyes away from the weapon and back to him, your eyes ran over him. What really stuck out was the mark on his chest, just below his right collarbone. It looked like a tattoo, but somehow different, like it wasn’t human made. It was a circle with an X through it. The same symbol on the walls. “Slenderman just kind of chose me and then -fuck- I became a proxy. I d- -cough- don’t really remember.”

“Toby.” Your voice cracked as you said his name. You felt like you were about to cry. What the fuck was going on here? What could you do? You needed to help him. Toby seemed like such a sweet person, so how did he get caught up in all of this?

You grabbed both of his hands, holding them tightly as you met his eyes. “Listen, I don’t know what exactly is going on here, but you don’t have to do this, you know? I don’t know how but… I can help you. We can get you out of this-"

“Are you pitying me?” Toby cocked his head to the side, a demented grin on his face. “I’m not some sick child. I don’t need your help.” His voice was now depraved.

He smiled even wider when he saw your almost wounded expression, he reached out to lift your chin. “But don’t worry. I still like you a lot.” This time his smile was more reassuring. It sent another pang through your heart.

You should be screaming. You should already be up and running away from him. So why did you lack the urge to? It was almost like you didn’t believe it, even though the evidence was all there. He had even blatantly admitted it and yet your brain couldn’t make sense of the incongruity of the boy you had spent time with the whole night and the alleged murderer in front of you.

Before you could unscramble your thoughts he had closed the gap between your lips, his hands all over your skin again. It became hard to think of anything but him, the warmth of his hands running across your skin, the scent of his skin so close to yours.

How many people had died by the hands that were now touching all over your body?

His tongue slipped into your mouth again and once again you felt like you were drowning in him, except this time it was worse. This time you knew you wouldn’t be coming up for air. You didn’t want to.

You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and you were reminded of how hard your clit was throbbing. You wanted this so badly, despite everything. It was like you were spellbound.

You reached your hand out to grip his cock, wrapping your hand around it and giving it a few pumps before he pulled you off the bed and brought you to your knees. His thumb ran across your bottom lip before he pressed down, opening your mouth with no resistance from you. He smirked, “So obedient.”

You didn’t hesitate to take his cock in your mouth, slowly taking him in as deep as you could before starting to bob your head slowly.

“Fuckkkk.” He breathed out, gripping your hair in his hand, starting to guide your head.

You moaned around his cock as he started to get rougher, taking control of the pace entirely.

“Du fühlst dich so gut an, mein Mädchen.” He groaned in a low voice.

The fuck….? German?

You were a bit blown away by the sudden language change, especially since you couldn’t understand a word of it. It sounded like German but then again you weren’t entirely sure.

He chuckled darkly at your confusion and started thrusting harder into your mouth. You choked on his cock, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes as his cock went deep into your throat. At this point he was fucking your face, you had no control whatsoever.

“Tut das weh?” He said in a taunting voice. You could tell he was mocking your pain, even if you had no idea what he said. For some reason that made you even wetter, you could feel the way your arousal dripped down your thighs once again.

There is definitely something wrong with me, clinically.

He continued to taunt you in a language you couldn’t understand, his pace unrelenting. “Du liebst es, wenn ich dich quäle, nicht wahr?” You could tell he was getting close as his voice was getting breathier.

You hoped he would finish soon, you could barely take the pace anymore. Your throat burned each time he brutally thrusted his cock into it, even if you were secretly enjoying the way he was humiliating you.

His pace became less rhythmic as he desperately rutted his hips into your mouth, gripping your hair harshly. “Du fühlst dich so gut an.” He groaned out.

After a few more deep thrusts into your mouth, he came down your throat. He pulled out of your mouth, lifting your chin since you could barely hold your head up after that. “Was für ein gutes Mädchen.” He said affectionately.

“What…?” You asked, exhausted and out of breath and sick of hearing shit in a language you can’t understand.

He pulled you back up onto the bed, once again like you were weightless. He nuzzled into your neck again, showering you with kisses. “You did good.”

The way he switched from brutally fucking your throat to giving you ticklish kisses on your neck was giving you whiplash.

His hand snaked down between your legs and he sighed when he felt how wet you were. “You get that wet from having me come down your throat? What a slut.” He chuckled, amazed by it.

A small gasp of shock escaped you, baffled by what he had just said.

“What, you’re embarrassed?” He laughed as he slipped his fingers into you easily. He desperately wanted to watch you come again, he was entranced by the reaction he saw earlier. He needed to see it again.

He immediately found your g-spot and hooked his fingers inwards, making you see stars as moans slipped past your lips. “Wait, Toby- slow down-” Your orgasm was already building at a ferocious pace as he slammed into your g-spot over and over with his fingers.

“Go slower?” He asked, still laughing a little, a smile on his face that held no malice despite his actions. “No way. I want you to come around my fingers.”

He was pumping his fingers in and out of you, making sloppy wet noises fill the room alongside your moans. He hooked his fingers in deep, making sure to press against your g-spot each time as his palm applied pressure to your clit.

You felt a pressure building deep in you, building uncontrollably. Each time he slammed against your g-spot you felt it build more and more. It felt like something would release, and you held it as long as you could until it felt so good you just didn’t care anymore. Your body shook lightly as you came, a gushing heat releasing from you.

He kept his fingers going, prolonging your orgasm. “Mm… that’s it, pretty girl. Let it all out.”

You panted hard, struggling to regain your ability to think after coming that hard.

Did I just squirt…?!

You were absolutely mortified, “I- I didn’t mean to do that! I’m sorry-”

He hugged your body close to him, burying his face in your shoulder. “I knew you were perfect. I can’t wait to keep you here with me.” His words were muffled but still clear enough for you to hear what he said.

You were glad he couldn’t see your face as it fell. “Wait a second, Toby.” Your voice trembled as you pushed up so you could sit up. “What do you mean keep me here?”

He pulled back to look at your face, loving the way it had twisted in fear. He lifted your chin to meet his eyes again. “I like you. I wanna keep you here with me. You can’t leave.”

“What…? You can’t be serious.” You said in disbelief.

“I just told you I murder people. Did you really think you could leave?” He asked like you were stupid. “God, it’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

The shock washed over you. There wasn’t a hint of humor in his tone. He was clearly one hundred percent serious.

This is all my fault. How could I have been so stupid, just going along with him even after I knew what he was capable of?

You felt something wet drop down on your leg.

Oh, I’m crying.

Watching you start to cry only made Toby more excited. “Haha, why are you crying? -fuck- It could be a lot worse. I could’ve just -fuck- killed you immediately. It would have been easy.” He twitched a few times, correlated with the swears.

“Toby… You can’t keep me here! People will be looking for me!”

He had an unconcerned expression. “Eh, they’ll forget about you soon enough.”

You gasped again in shock, unable to say anything in return. Toby just twitched to the side and started muttering to himself. You recalled the bloodstained hatchet you watched fall to the ground earlier. That’s right. You were completely stuck. If you tried to do anything he could kill you so easily.

His hands came up to softly cup your face, seemingly having turned his attention back to you, wiping away the tears. “Now come on, don’t be li- -fuck- like that.” He pushed you back onto the bed and started aligning his cock at your entrance.

You weren’t sure if the fear somehow confused your body into becoming aroused or if you seriously just had a mental disorder, but your cunt ached with need for him. You could barely contain how bad you needed this when he rubbed the tip of his throbbing cock against your clit. You let out another needy moan.

He chuckled huskily and mumbled under his breath. “Du bist eine kleine, gierige Schlampe, nicht wahr?”

You had no idea what the fuck he said. It didn’t even matter, you needed him so badly. This was wrong. So wrong.

You could no longer care about morals as he slowly pushed his cock into you, feeling the way you stretched around him inch by inch, until you took him in fully. He let out a low groan as you shakily exhaled.

He began thrusting a little faster than you would’ve liked starting out. You tried to hold back your voice, but little whines and whimpers still came out of you.

“Don’t tell me those pathetic whimpers are all you’ve got? C’mon you can do better.” One of his hands came up to clasp yours as he started slamming into you at a vicious pace. You could no longer contain your voice, you were a whining, moaning mess.

You couldn’t decide between asking him to slow down or begging him to keep going. He gripped your face, capturing your lips again, sloppily kissing you as he pumped his cock into you. Blissful pleasure took over your mind. He pulled away from the kiss, a line of spit still connecting your mouths. Your mind was fuzzy and your unfocused eyes lifted to meet his, eliciting a low growl from him.

“You love taking my cock, don’t you?” He was still gripping your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact.

You nodded as high pitched whiny moans escaped you.

“You don’t even care that I’m a murderer. You’re really fucking sick aren’t you?” A wicked grin on his face.

Guilt washed over you as you heard his words. “No…!” Your voice came out weaker than you wanted it to. “I’m not!”

“Yeah you are.” His tone was venomous. “You’re a sick little thing.”

He was right. You had no rebuttal to that. All you could say was, “You’re the one who’s sick…!”

“Maybe. But so are you. You’re feeling so good right now because of a sick murderer’s cock now aren’t you? You want to stay here with me don’t you?”

“I don’t…!”

“How about this?” He leaned real close, whispering in your ear. “If you come you have to stay here with me forever.” He hooked his arms under your knees, pushing them up closer to your chest so he could go deeper.

There was no way he just said that. That wasn’t fair. There was no way you’d be able to hold back.

He picked up the pace again, thrusting into you at a pace that was making your mind go fuzzy. You already felt the orgasm building and he just kept ramming into that damn spot over and over.

“Not there…!” You pleaded.

“Oh, right there?” He responded by driving into it even harder.

You got closer and closer to the edge, trying your hardest to keep yourself from coming. He noticed the way your body tensed. The way your moans became whinier and higher pitched.

“You want to come don’t you? You really want to come.” He taunted you.

“Don’t-” It was too late. The tightly wound coil had snapped. You let out choked moans as you came.

He slowed to a stop, just so he could feel the way you clenched around his cock. He shuddered, “Your cunt is milking my cock.” He suddenly resumed his quick pace causing you to let out a startled gasp. “Fuckkkkk, I can’t stop.”

“Toby…!” You whined, gripping his arms.

He let out another low groan. “Du fühlst dich so gut an, mein Mädchen. Du wirst so schwach für mich.” His voice was gravelly.

He kept thrusting as deeply as he could into you, starting to lose the pace, just slamming into you like his life depended on it. “Du gehörst mir.” He breathed out.

His groans became breathier and breathier, almost becoming whines. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you with my cum.” He leaned down and bit your neck hard, eliciting a sharp wince from you as you felt his hot cum flood your pussy.

Your mind had gone fully blank, it felt like TV static. Just like before, you felt drawn to him, like a magnet.

He gripped your face again, loving the way your face was flushed, your lips were glossy and slightly swollen, and your eyes were dazed. “You’re all fucked out now aren’t you?” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “So pretty.” He sighed before kissing you again, this time softly, sweetly.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, matching his soft kiss. If you had run into the spiderweb full speed, you might as well enjoy being caught in the web.

He pulled away to hug you close, burying his face in your neck.

“I knew you’d want to stay.”

Now I gotta admit that I used google translate for the German parts so if there are any German speakers reading this I’m sorry man.

I'm always open for feedback and constructive criticism so please feel free to leave me every thought in your head

I hope u guys enjoyed ~\(≧▽≦)/~

~pls remember to distinguish fiction from reality

#creepypasta #crp fandom #ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #toby rogers #creepypasta fic

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