#the way he goes sprinting off

[curiosity-killed]

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objectively one of the best moments in this show

[mv1simp]

Cuffing Szn ♥️

Max Verstappen x MidSize!Reader

it's cuffing season and all the girls are leaving to get a big boy (I need a big boy, give me a big boy)

As Max Verstappen's new girlfriend, you're one of the few WAGs on the grid who isn't a model and the only one, you think self consciously, who doesn't look like a model either. Good thing your big, strong boyfriend is here to set the record straight about how much he disagrees with you.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, trigger warning: explicit discussion about eating disorder and body dysmorphia, dom!max, sub!reader, size kink, this is just a shameless excuse for me to write smut about max's thighs, 3.3k WC

When you'd delivered one of your favourite patient's 3rd baby, handing over the healthy, crying pale blob (after thoroughly wiping it down because, you know) with a congratulations, Victoria, its a boy! you hadn't expected to catch the eye of the patient's very attractive, tall older brother at her side.

But as you walked off down the hallway once the baby checks were done, you were surprised to find Max stopping you with a large but gentle hand on your shoulder. You'd seen him a couple of times in Victoria's pregnancy, accompanying her and her husband at the ultrasound checks leading upto the delivery. You'd secretly thought he was so adorable with the way he handled his nieces and nephews patiently while his sister got scanned.

You'd also thought he looked positively delectable in his white linen shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders, and skinny jeans that clung to some of the thickest thighs you'd seen a man be blessed with. But making bedroom eyes at patient's hot family members was generally frowned upon (although not explicitly prohibited in the Hippocratic Oath, one could argue) so you promptly forgot about the handsome blonde 5 minutes later when the emergency bell went off.

But he stood before you that day, looking every bit as attractive as you remembered, even more so with a pink dusting on his cheeks as he asked if this was the last time you'd be looking after Victoria?

You tilted your head quizzically at him, your neck a little strained from looking up at his 6 foot frame from your 5"1 one. Yes it is, you informed him, and because new families often got anxious, you sweetly added that it was a good thing, to not see you again, because it meant darling Victoria and her baby are both healthy.

He confuses you again by saying that he was hoping to see you again. Oh! You smile excitedly, are you and your wife expecting? You pull out your clinic card and tell him that you're actually all booked out for the year but you'll make an exception for Victoria's brother.

His blush deepens. (Somewhere in a hospital broom cupboard, Lando Norris was filming this scene unfold and cackling.) Max rapidly explained that he's not expecting. Oh, and he's not married. And also he doesn't have a girlfriend. Basically, I'm single - he finally stammers out. (Rizzless and bitchless, Lando texts him). Thankfully, at this point you had caught on that Max was trying to ask you out, and after a quick phone call to the legal team to confirm you were clear, you turn back around to inform him cheekily that he could pick you up at 8pm Friday night for dinner. (Wait, this actually worked? a flabbergasted Lando now texts.) The emergency pager then goes off so you gently tug on Max's shirt to hint that you want him to bring his face down, give him a goodbye kiss on the cheek, and sprint off to Ward 6.

The dinner goes perfectly, with Max's charm returning in full force after a G&T - Sorry about earlier, schat, you're such a gorgeous woman and a very smart doctor, it makes me nervous - leading to a 2nd date and then a 3rd and then to a weekend trip in a romantic Nice winery, where you can't resist jumping into his muscly arms after a glass of wine and demanding he have his way with you. (He does. Very thoroughly. Multiple times that night, and the morning after. Thinking about it still has you blushing.)

6 months later, you two are officially going out and you're making your first appearance as his girlfriend at the races. You had carefully dressed in a classy Mirror Palais dress, complete with matching heels to save your poor boyfriend having to bend down too much. You'd also become rather turned on at seeing your normally soft, gentle cat dad of a boyfriend turn into an absolute menace once the Redbull suit is zipped up, terrorising his way all the way to P1 and living up to his nickname of the Dutch lion. As his assistant guides you to the podium ceremony, you're stopped by various fans who compliment your outfit and ask for pictures. The media attention is very new to you, as Max had been very insistent on protecting your privacy as you two established yourselves as a couple. But everyone had been so nice today - until you started noticing the dirty looks thrown your way, glaring up and down your form. And then, a couple of snide comments from passing fans about how you were very confident to wear such a body hugging dress, especially with your curvy figure.

You roll your eyes at their clearly jealous tones, and walk over to the podium ceremony to greet your boyfriend. He breaks into an adorable grin when he sees you, his whole face lighting up as he easily scoops you up for a deep kiss. The cameras around you two go crazy, but don't pick up his whispers when he sets you down and leans in, telling you that you looked so pretty today, schat, he'd been staring at you so much GP had to tell him to focus, and how was your first race? nobody gave you a hard time, did they? You don't miss the way his eyes are attentively focused on your face, clearly still worried about the damage he had warned you about before you agreed to go public.

You aren't going to spoil his win over a couple of snide comments. Not at all, baby you reassure, before whispering back that he looked really hot in his tight fireproofs, could he pretty please bring them home later when you give him his reward for such a good performance on the track? The tip of Max's ears go pink as he struggles to maintain a straight face for the cameras. Giggling, you press a kiss to his cheek and murmur you'll see him after his interviews.

Later though, when Max is in his interview across the paddock and you're being introduced to the other WAGs, you can't help but notice how different they all look in their body hugging dresses compared to you. Although you wouldn't be called fat, you aren't slim either, and you're nowhere near the tiny, trim figures the other girls maintain. Once the seed of insecurity is planted, it's very hard to stop it growing out of control - and at each race or public event or launch party you attend at Max's side, you start to pick apart more and more insecurities about yourself. How you're so much shorter than the numerous models on the grid, making you feel childish and round compared to their lithe gracefulness. How their delicate collarbones and ribs can clearly be seen at all times, but yours only if you twisted your neck a certain way. And they're all so lovely, chatting eagerly with you and interested to hear about your work, asking if you'd take so-and-so on as a patient, you had a great reputation already even though you were a new doctor in Monaco! The conversations distract you from your worries for a bit.

But afterwards, when you'd be laughing at cat memes online and sending them to your boyfriend, you'd come across the paparazzi pics of you speaking to the WAGs and felt sick to your stomach at how huge you thought you looked compared to everyone else, clearly standing out as the plainest one amongst their flawless faces. Some of the comments agreed, saying that it was just sad that the best driver on the grid had the ugliest girlfriend, and couldn't Max buy his gf some ozempic with all his tax evasion money? Comments that would have made you laugh at the originality now suddenly had you sobbing, and you're glad you hadn't stayed at Max's tonight and had to explain the state you were in.

When you'd been younger, in college, you'd started struggling with managing your stress levels given you were a perfectionist working towards a very difficult medical degree. Having always been a stress eater, you frequently binged on junk food, and obviously ended up gaining quite a bit of weight. Your family and ex boyfriend had ridiculed you endlessly, and so the year after you had to work hard and lose it all, which you had managed to do. You'd mentioned this to Max in passing, a couple months into dating when he'd spotted an old college picture of you and muttered so fucking cute, pocketing it.

You didn't tell Max about how you'd lost the weight though - with a vicious binging and purging cycle for the better chunk of a year. You'd grown out of that "phase" once you'd left college, or so you thought - because it was almost too easy to slip back into it now, to enjoy the sick pleasure at barely eating all day and seeing the weight drop on the scale, then bingeing on whatever you wanted because it didn't count, you'd throw it up anyways. You had to be very careful with it this time round, because your boyfriend's attentive gaze had been fixed on you even more so than usual - noting how you've been wearing higher heels, how your dresses are still as gorgeous as ever but never body hugging anymore, how you spend hours before a race now perfecting your makeup instead of joining him in the garage and don't spend the nights at his anymore. You weasel your way out of his questions when he asks you repeatedly if everything was okay, schat?

But you weren't able to fool him any longer after attending a charity gala for one of his sponsors. You'd actually been happy with your appearance for once, pleased with your slimmer waist this month, but as the night went on you started to feel the fatigue of starving yourself catching up, leaning more and more into Max's side as he glanced at you with concern. Rubbing your back soothingly, he asked if you wanted to leave early, but you shook your head, murmuring you were okay, your feet just hurt a little is all. He frowned then, hating to see you in pain just to be dressed up for some stupid event he couldn't care less about. Bringing you to the empty lobby, he told you he was going to grab your coats and have the car brought round, end of discussion, you need to rest, okay liefje? You didn't have it in you to protest any longer so just nodded. You hadn't realised just how much you'd been leaning on him until he left, and as stars started entering your vision, Max returned just in time to catch you before you stumbled.

You felt him firmly grab your waist, fully supporting your weight as he led you out to the car, lowering you gently into the seat and even buckling you in. You started feeling a bit better inside his Aston Martin with the aircon on, nibbling on a high protein low calorie bar you'd stashed in your clutch. Regaining your alertness, you notice the tense atmosphere, with a stormy expression on Max's face as he drove rather furiously through the Monaco streets, his hand not even resting on your thigh like it usually did but gripping the wheel tightly. Maxie - you begin uncertainly, hoping to diffuse the tension and ask why he was upset, but he cuts you off with a terse Don't. Let's wait till we're home.

So you wait, until you're both walking in through the front door. Max rips off his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves, but he still doesn't talk and instead heads to the kitchen. You follow him, sitting on a barstool to admire how he still looked so handsome in the fitted sky blue shirt and tight navy pants, even when he was clearly mad. As Max starts cooking, his back to you, he tells you about how growing up his sister Victoria had to go to therapy for a long time because she wouldn't stop throwing up every time she ate because their father told her she was too fat (despite looking like a buffalo himself, Max snorts as he sets down a simple but delicious plate of chicken pesto pasta with salad in front of you), about how Max has seen countless girlfriends on the paddock purposely avoid eating all day, including his already stick thin model exes, and how Max himself would be called fat every month or the other by some trashy gossip magazine, because the media is just fucking toxic, he hisses. This is why I wanted to keep us hidden away from the cameras. He glances pointedly at your plate, where you've eaten the salad and chicken and not touched your pasta. You sigh and pick up your fork, slowly working your way through the food as you tell him that you suppose your diet had somewhat...spiralled out of control, but honestly, Max, I'm completely fine, and you two can't avoid the cameras forever given how he's the frickin F1 winner at all-

Don't tell me that you're fine. Do you really think I don't know what's going on? Max demands tersely with crossed arms. Finally finished with your meal, you hop off the stool to neatly place your plate in the sink, ignoring his question. Standing behind you, he watches you wash the dishes, still not even reaching his chin, even in those damn 6 inch heels you're still wearing. You do respond when he asks you just why you're putting your body through such torture.

C'mon, Max you say with an eyeroll, You know why, I need to lose some weight, I'm so much heavier compared to all the other girls and all your exes, and you deserve to have a girlfriend who looks-

Don't tell me what I do or don't deserve, schat. I always want the best and that's why I picked you. You're really gonna question the choice of a world champion, hmm? Max's deep voice is now right by your ears as he leans down behind you. You feel a shiver run up the back on your spine as he curls his huge arms possessively around your waist and thighs. He continues his whispers, his hands roaming up to your plush tits and another squeezing your ass, telling you You're so goddamn pretty. Every single part of you, just for me, making you bite your lip and breathily moan from his affections - it'd been a while since he'd had his way with you with all your avoidance, after all.

You feel him slowly unzip your dress, and the silk easily falls to the ground, leaving you only in your stiletto heels and a deep red lingerie set he’d gifted you for your 3 month anniversary. You tense, already feeling self conscious, but before you can say anything Max has wrapped a large hand around your waist and easily flipped you around to sit on the kitchen counter. You gasp from the action, hands automatically going to rest on his broad shoulders as your face comes level with his.

I haven’t made it clear just how lucky I am to have such a beautiful girl all to myself, schat, Max says huskily, before pulling away to unbutton his shirt, his blue eyes darkening as they roam over your pretty tits spilling over in the lacey bra, over your cute plush tummy, and over those deliciously soft thighs he adores. His hungry stare is really starting to drive you wild now, and you beg at him to hurry up and finish undressing. Chuckling, he throws his pants to the side as well, now only wearing his tight boxers. He pulls you forward on the counter so you're flush against him. See what you do to me, sweet girl? Hmm? he grinds the very prominent bulge in his boxers against your own damp core, making you gasp. You get me so hard and you haven't even touched me yet, that's the kind of power you have over me.

At his words, you don’t hold back from running your hand all along Max’s well defined chest. Your boyfriend is so much bigger than you and it's incredibly sexy. He towers over you easily with his 6 foot frame, all wide shoulders and swollen biceps and muscled thighs, and you don't hide the hypnotised look in your eyes as you trace from his thick neck down to his slutty waist, desire and desperation coursing through you, replacing any inhibitions you'd had earlier.

He grasps one of your wandering hands in his own, his larger palm easily dwarfing your tiny one and making you bite your lip at the difference in size. His attentive gaze doesn't miss this either, and with a low hmm he brazenly asks if you found it as hot as he did, the fact that you were the perfect size for him to snap into half if he wanted? He knows he's got you right where he wants as your pupils go wide with desire, breath hitching at the thought of your big boyfriend using his strength against you for once.

Then he's pulling apart your pretty little set, lace ripping and a large hand easily wraps around your entire throat, pulling you into a breathless kiss that has you moaning at his skilled tongue. You barely have time to collect yourself when he suddenly lifts you up by the waist, biceps flexing, and your eyes widen as you're lifted impossibly high in the air and find yourself straddling his thick shoulders, his face now at the perfect height to bury his tongue into your dripping pussy right in front of him. Max! you squeal, utterly ruined by his impressive display of strength. You're desperately scrambling for purchase at the cabinets behind you, head banging back against the wall as he relentlessly thrusts his wicked tongue into your puffy folds.

And he only sets you down after you cum obediently all over greedy lips like he demands you to do, then gently carries your shaky form to the bedroom to show you multiple more examples of how you were just made to take him, truly the perfect girl for him, weren't you? You'd been too blissfully fucked out by that point to form a coherent response.

Needless to say, you find yourself caring very little next time strangers had anything to say about the way you looked, thanks to Max's hands on affections (he'd also taken you to therapy like the supportive boyfriend he was, bless him.) He'd quickly formed a personal favourite method to prove to you just how desperate he was for you and how you had the world champion in the palm of your hand, whenever he saw that look flicker into your eyes from time to time. He'd take you back home, make you undress yourself for his hungry gaze, then lift you up into his arms, folding your thighs up against your waist from where he held them. You’d moan as he slid into you, bouncing your whole body onto his hard cock like you were a ragdoll, making you scream his name endlessly as he fucked you mid-air.

And sometimes, when he was feeling particularly possessive, he'd flip you around, pressing your back to his toned chest, as he made you watch with him in the mirror how he obscenely slid in and out of your dripping pussy. Whispering in your ear that see, like he had told you, he had such good taste, don't I, schat? And as you met his heated gaze through the reflective surface, clenching around him when you saw the pure love and raw desire in his eyes, you couldn't help but agree.

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A/N: guys can you guess I have a thing for boys who are big. Big boys, if you well. Someone just let me sit on Max’s lap goddamn 💸💸 as always lmk what you think and if u have any requests!!

[certifiablyinsanez]

I am haunted by the detailed, completed map of Hell that Edwin took notes on. You don’t understand, it makes me sick. It’s one thing to have a basic layout, a vague idea, or a rudimentary map but it was meticulously detailed. Down to doors and what they do and where they go. Down to secret spaces in the walls. He even knew what ringing an innocuous bell would do. It can only mean one thing. We don’t know when Edwin began trying to escape, but assuming he started from the get go, it means that he spent all his decades in Hell trying to find a way out. He never stopped running. And that is assuming he never stopped. From his second trip, we could see he resorted to his old ways and ran. But he was eventually caught, reduced to pieces. Even when Charles showed up, he didn’t seem very optimistic about their chances. He could feel every second of those 70 years. There were likely many times he fell to hopelessness, trembling in the corner watching himself be desecrated knowing it was going to happen again and again. How long? How many times did he try to be so, so quiet, hoping he would have a few moments before the next round? How many times did he muster the ability to run, just one more time? How long did it take him to run, discovering the ends of each ring? How many times did he sprint up, down, north, south, east, west, trying to escape? And what happened when he finally escaped? How long did it take for him to be able to relax, even a little? Because he can never relax. He must always outrun Death and her constituents because he can’t count on them to be fair. How many times does he look over his shoulder, waiting for the monster to claim its eternal meal once again? His breath of fresh air, his first taste of companionship in ages not only keeps him company, but sticks by him. And then, in that blessing there comes a curse, because now you have something to lose. Because when you taste ambrosia how can you return to starvation? He feels safe with Charles. Happy and comfortable, but the threat always lingers. And he knows that Charles couldn’t fend off Death. He never considered he could fend off Hell beasts; after all, he’s just a ghost kid. He watches innocents be slaughtered on repeat, unphased by the level of violence but no less affected by it, because no one has even a clue what it takes to be this kind. Even at his most happy, he has so, so much to lose and he goes back to Hell when hope was dangled in his face like the fruit of Tantalus. When he returns, he’s subjected to Hell once again, sustaining through torture that obliterates souls, only to watch his best friend, his confidant, his platonic soulmate, die horrifically. This woman who gave him sea-glass courage, so powerful and yet so fragile. Allowed him to be himself, gave him permission to do so. Was the openness to his closed self, and now she is gone. And he retains his composure, his stiff, British posture because it is what has saved him from madness and Despair, protected him, and now the world is darker without Niko Sasaki in it. But surely he saw this coming. After all, humans are messy. And yet, he shows up for their souls, time and time again.

Edwin Payne is THE character.

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: Protective Simon. For the beautiful and talented @lethalchiralium

Simon’s phone is ringing. 

Price raises an eyebrow from the end of the table, pausing mid-sentence, confused. Simon’s phone never rings. It’s always on full volume, because he never gets phone calls, except for ones from the 141, and they’re all here. At this briefing.  

His fingers find the ringer, ready to silence what he’s sure is a nuisance call, some telemarketer or robot, when he reads your name across the screen. 

You’ve never called him before. Unease tightens across his chest, and without any explanation, he excuses himself from the room and the bewildered looks being cast his way. 

“Hey, you-“

“Simon?” You sound off. Like you’re trying to be calm, but there’s something lingering on the edge of your voice, something scared. His spine goes stiff. 

It’s enough to propel him into action, his fist thumping against the window of the brief room, jerking his head south. I’m leaving, the motion signifies. Emergency.

“What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing. Just… there’s this guy that’s been like, half a block behind me since I got off the train.” He closes his eyes. The fucking train. He wants you to stop taking the train. He needs you to stop taking the train. 

“He followed you from the platform?” 

“Well, he could be walking this way too…” 

“Where are you?” His keys are already in his hand, and he’s running down the hallway, past bewildered administrative staff and everyone else, bursting through the back door and into the truck. His phone chimes with multiple text messages, Price, Johnny, Gaz. All wondering where the hell he ran off to. Only Johnny’s text scratches the surface: Is it your neighbor? He waits another second in silence, hoping you’re trying to get your bearings. “Sweetheart?” 

“I’m… I think we’re coming up on seventh and Warsail. ‘m not too sure. I’ve kind been walking in a roundabout way.” We’re coming up on seventh… we. 

The baby is with you. 

His foot slams the accelerator onto the floor, counting his breaths as he maneuvers each turn in the road. Do you have the stroller? Are you carrying her? Did this guy peg you as an easy target because he knows what Simon knows, that women are more likely to go along with instruction if their child is threatened? That you’d never leave Emmaline behind? That you’d do anything to protect her? 

He feels sick. 

“Are there other people around?” He’s calm on the phone, trying to visualize the street, the buildings, the alleys. Easy spots where cars could reach the highway in seconds, and then be gone. Cramped alleys that connect to others like tangled webs, able to swallow a human being easy, disappear them into the darkness. It makes his stomach turn over. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel so hard; it hurts.

“Yeah, it’s close to the end of the day, so-“ 

“Stay where others can see you. Are you sure you’re on seventh and Warsail?” 

“Yeah. We’re in that park. I-I… wanted to take Emma to see the ducks.” Your voice wavers. “Simon he’s still behind us.” He’s turning the corner now, a block from your cross streets, and instead of yielding for oncoming traffic like he should, he floors it through an intersection, abandoning the truck still on, half parked in an empty street spot.  “Stay where you are, sweetheart. Okay? I’m coming.” 

“You… wait, what? You’re what?” He doesn’t hang up, but keeps the phone against his ear, and takes off down the street in a sprint, fully subscribed to the worst-case scenarios that have been building in his mind, images of you and Emmaline bloody and bruised, or worse. He gets them confused for a moment, memories mixing with the present, two things swirling together until they become indistinguishable, noise and panic roaring too loudly in his head. 

It all comes screeching to a stop. 

He spots you in the park. You do have the stroller, and you’re by the little pond, headphones in, Emmaline in your arms, her little beanie pulled down over her ears. You’re glancing around, nervous, saying his name into the mic. He scans the rest of the faces, passing over anyone who doesn’t strike him as a creepy git, until he finds his target: a skinny, younger guy lurking on the edge of the fence line, watching you. He hangs up the phone and moves across the park involuntarily, rolling his shoulders, and he vaguely sees you from the corner of his eye, mouth dropped open in shock, faintly calling his name. 

“Hey, mate. C’mere.” He shouts, half the people in the vicinity startling in his direction. Everyone seems to move away, like a magnetic force, pulsing outwards as he overtakes the guy with an easy grab to his upper arm. “You like stalking women with babies?” He hisses in his ear, voice low with barely contained rage. The guy is younger than him, but rail thin, and coked out. Probably looking for money. Simon jerks him closer, and he actually yells for help, like he’s a victim. It’s enough to ground the situation, making Simon realize he has an audience, and he grits out a final warning before shoving him away. “I ever see you around my girls again… I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Piss off.” 

“What did he say?” You’re frantic, rubbing Emmaline’s back in a circular pattern, over and over like you’re trying to calm her, even though she’s perfectly content. It’s you who needs soothing, he realizes, and he takes your hand without questioning it, letting his instincts guide him in regard to you without overthinking it. 

“He was high, love. Looking for money.” He doesn’t want to scare you but… he doesn’t despise the idea of instilling some hypervigilance. Maybe this will convince you not to take the train. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Think I scared him off for good though.” He looks around, and then slips off his mask, wide thumb stroking a soft touch on Emma’s cheek before giving you a gentle squeeze. “It’s alright now.” You visibly relax, but don’t let go of his hand, tilting your face up to his, all bright and beautiful, still coming down from the adrenaline of your fear with a whisper on your lips, meant for only him to hear. 

“Our hero.”

[kinascum]

TAG! - M. STURNIOLO

SYNOPSIS: What happens when your brother's best friend pushes your boundaries in a thrilling encounter?

CONTENTS: nls!reader, explicit sexual content, strong language, power dynamics, degradation, chasing? primal? idk, no actual piv, oral (male), semi-public, humiliation.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

pt2 (chris)

You sit around the kitchen table of the cozy cabin, the glow of the moonlight spilling in through the windows, casting shadows across the well-worn Monopoly board. The laughter and banter of the evening's game slowly die down as the last few hotel properties are snatched up, and the bank is declared bankrupt. Your brother Nate, and his best friends, grin at each other, the competitive spirit still lingering in the air. It's late, and the yawns start to take over, signaling the end of the night.

The cabin's wooden floorboards creak as everyone heads to their designated sleeping areas. The fireplace crackles, casting a warm, flickering light across the room. You settle into your bed, but the excitement of the day keeps sleep at bay. The rustling of blankets and muffled snores from your brother's room reminds you that you're not the only one who remains restless.

The whispers of the night beckon you and you find yourself tiptoeing to the bedroom door. You peek into the hallway, noticing a sliver of light seeping out from under Matt's door. Curiosity piqued, you ease the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, staring at the floor. "Can't sleep either?" he asks, looking up and catching your gaze.

"Yeah, it's like my brain won't shut up," you admit, stepping into the room. "Wanna go outside for some fresh air?"

Matt nods, a glint in his eye. "How about we play a game to pass the time?"

Intrigued, you follow him out into the cool night, the crunch of gravel underfoot. The moon casts a silver path down to the lake, where the water laps gently against the shore. The air is alive with the scent of pine and the distant sound of an owl's hoot.

"Okay, I'll chase you," he says with a smirk, "and if I catch you, I win."

You laugh, thinking it's just a way to burn off some energy. "What do I get if I win?"

"We'll see," he teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready or not, here I come!"

And with that, he's off, his sneakers pounding the ground as he sprints towards you. You squeal, the thrill of the chase igniting your senses. As you dart away from him, the night air feels alive with electricity, your heart pounding in your chest. This is the kind of thrill you live for, the kind that makes you feel alive.

The game starts innocently enough, the two of you weg through the trees, laughing and panting. But as the minutes tick by, the adrenaline turns into something else. Something you've felt simmering between you for a while now, something you've been too scared to acknowledge. The wind carries the scent of him, a tantalizing mix of aftershave and pure masculine energy. Your skin tingles with anticipation, and you start to feel the heat building deep within you.

Matt's breath is hot on your neck as he catches up, his strong hands grabbing you around the waist. You gasp, feeling his solid body pressed against yours, the game turning into something much more primal. You can feel the heat of his body overcome yours, and it sends a shockwave through your core. This isn't just a game anymore; it's a dance of desire that you're both eager to explore.

He whispers in your ear, his voice thick with lust, "I win."

With a firm grip, he spins you around and pushes you to your knees. You look up at him, a mix of fear and excitement swirling in your eyes. He's serious. The gravity of the moment hits you like a ton of bricks, but you don't resist. You want this. You've wanted this for a long time.

He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking in the stillness of the night, and unzips his pants, pulling out his hard cock. "You know how this goes," he murmurs, stroking himself, watching you with a hungry gaze. "You're gonna let me use that pretty little throat?"

Your heart races as you lean in, your mouth watering despite the fear. You wrap your lips around him, and he groans, his hand tangling in your hair. He's not gentle, pushing deeper into your mouth, his grip tightening with every moan. The taste of him fills your senses, a mix of salt and earth, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. This isn't how you thought this night would go, but the way he's looking at you, the way he's holding you, it's like he's claiming you, and it turns you on more than you ever thought possible.

You try to keep up, but he's too much for you. You gag, and he laughs, a dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Look at you," he says, "such a good little slut, take it." Spit trails down your chin, and your eyes water, but you don't stop. You can't. The thrill of it all is too intense.

"I bet Nate never knew what a whore you are," he murmurs, his voice low aging. "Letting me fuck your mouth out here like some cheap hooker." His words are like a slap in the face, but they only serve to make you wetter. Your eyes narrow as your brows chisel in, but you're his, and you're letting him do this to you. It's a power play, and you're both acutely aware of it.

"Oh, you're mad?" He laughs. The sound of branches underfoot in the distance makes your heart leap. "Better hurry up," he says, his eyes glinting with excitement, "or Chris might find you like this and want a taste" The thought sends a jolt of fear and arousal through you. "Oh, but you'd love that, being used by both your brother's best friends?" Your mind races. What would Nate think if he found you like this? What would Nick do? The possibility of getting caught only adds to the thrill.

Matt's hand moves to your chin, holding it in a firm grip as he fucks your mouth harder, faster. "Take it, baby," he growls, his hips bucking against your face. "You like it, huh?" You nod, unable to speak with his cock lodged in your throat, you mumble around his shaft. You do love it. The degradation, the power he has over you in this moment, it's intoxicating.

Finally, with a grunt, he pulls out, coming all over your face and chest. You collapse back onto the ground, gasping for air, your heart racing and your eyes like storms behind shed tears. He wipes his dick off your shirt, smiling down at you like he's just conquered the world. "You've always been mine, don’t get mad now," he says, his voice full of satisfaction. He leans down, his hand on your jaw suddenly pulls away and the sing on your face is accompanied by the hot spit thrown at you. "Mine to use whenever I want."

The night air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and you can't help but feel a little bit used. But you don't care. You're his, and that's all that matters. The tension between you is palpable, the line between friendship and something darker is now irrevocably blurred. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, tasting him on your lips, and wonder if this is the start of something new.

As you both catch your breath, the sound of footsteps grows louder. Panic flares in your chest. "we have to get back." You stumble to your feet, your legs wobbly from the intense experience. Matt chuckles, tucking himself back into his pants.

Together, you sneak back towards the cabin, your heart pounding in your ears. As you enter the cabin, you see the light from Nate's room is now off. Did he hear you? Did he know what was happening outside?

You slip into your bed, your body still humming with desire, your mind racing with thoughts of what's to come. The lines between friendship and lust have been crossed, and there's no going back.

tags! @sturnstvs @gxldenlush @immattsslut @slut4chriss @stasiesturn @jetaimevous @solarsturniolo @watercolorskyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @meowira @secretagentspy @shadowthesim @baileysturns

love, paz<3

[jlheon]

𝓢𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇

(𝓹airing) ── psh x fmr ꣑୧ 𝓬lassmates to lovers ; fluff, kissing, & nonsexual shower 𝔀ordcount ( 1600 ) 𝓹eng's note. my kiss scenes suck! they move too fast i reckon! 𝓫ookshelf

𝓼ynopsis. while patroling at night on a class field trip, you catch sunghoon swimming fully clothed past curfew

unlike the rest of your peers, you hate going on school trips, especially overnight ones.

it was tiring to patrol the hotel late at night when everyone was supposed to be in their rooms at curfew. you were exhausted from being in charge of making sure everyone had a room once arriving.

and now you had to do one extra lap around the whole building before you could knock out on your bed.

but that was just your job as class president, you loved it, but you must admit sometimes you wish your vice president was given some of your tasks.

luckily for you, as you finished your lap around the floor everyone was staying, nothing seemed out of place.

you sighed in relief as you unlocked your room with your keycard, about to fall asleep in the same clothes you arrived in due to so much fatigue until you heard a huge splash coming from your balcony.

you groan as you walk up to the curtain and push them aside, only to reveal park sunghoon fully clothed swimming around the pool.

angry and tired, you quickly slide open the glass door leading to your balcony and lean over the railing to shout. “sunghoon! get inside! curfew was an hour ago!”

the boy looks up at you on your balcony and smirks, getting further into the deep end.

he goes below the water's surface and when he emerges his hair is dripping wet. shaking the wet strands out of his face. his white shirt sticking to his skin, giving you a glimpse at his toned chest.

“park sunghoon i will come down there and drag you out myself,” you huff, glaring at him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he teases, diving back under the water.

you aggressively shut the glass door and slip your slippers back on. sprinting towards the elevator and getting down the ground level, not wanting to waste any more time that could be used for sleeping.

when you enter the lobby it’s not empty, families and couples still wandering about, but thankfully none of your classmates were up but sunghoon whom you knew of.

“how long is the pool open for?” you ask the front desk.

“for another hour,” the woman behind the desk tells you, “do you need any towels?”

“one please,” you say, watching park sunghoon swimming around from the window.

you make your way out to the pool deck after thanking the woman, pushing the door open to see his head bob up from the water to stare at you.

“i brought you a towel,” you inch closer to the pool, “go to your room.”

“that’s sweet of you ms. president,” sunghoon coos, “but i’m not done swimming yet.”

“seriously, go to bed,” you pinch the bridge of your nose in annoyance.

“the pool doesn’t close for another hour,” he reminds you, “if you join me i’ll go inside.”

“it’s cold and it’s late,” you cross your arms.

“i guess i’m not going inside then,” he shrugs, getting ready to dive under the water again.

you groan in defeat, setting the towel on the closest pool chair and slipping off your slippers. walking towards the pool stairs and dipping your toes in. cursing at the temperature, you walk a couple of steps down just so the water touches below your shorts.

“are you happy now,” you roll your eyes as his drenched figure approaches you.

“come deeper,” sunghoon extends his hand.

you reluctantly place your hand in his and let him pull you deeper into the pool. the water seeping through your thin shirt and shorts.

sunghoon notices you shivering and pulls you closer by your waist.

“can we go now?” you say quietly, placing your hands on his chest.

“you just got in,” he fakes a pout, tightening his grip on your waist so you can't retreat now.

if someone told you this morning that you would be waist-deep in the hotel pool at eleven at night hugging park sunghoon, you would have punched them in the face.

your head leaning on his shoulder as you stand in the middle of the water.

you’ve never been this close to sunghoon, though you’ve talked to him many times. he was your deskmate in freshman year in biology and you two had gotten considerably close.

though that faded when you had no classes together in sophomore and now junior year, but it’s not like you two were strangers.

but you would never expect to be practically molded to him instead of getting the well-needed rest required for the activities you and the council had planned tomorrow.

sunghoon notices the chattering of your teeth as you cling to him in search of any heat. your lips quivering as you hug him close.

“you still cold?” he softly asks, his wet hand running through your hair.

“mhm,” you hum, staring at the blue water surrounding you two.

“want me to warm you up?” sunghoon says teasingly, lifting your chin with the tip of his finger.

you tilt your head at him in confusion before he leans down and presses his lips on your cold ones.

the kiss is slow yet deep as he places a hand on your neck to tilt you at just the right angle. your hands find his nape and thread your fingers through the wet hair.

you break away to catch your breath and collect your thoughts when sunghoon gives you no time to recover.

his lips smashing against yours once again in a more passionate kiss. filled with desire as he gently nibbles on your bottom lip, silently begging for entrance.

you obliged, parting your lips so his tongue could slip inside. exploring your mouth as you stand there unmoving.

when sunghoon finally breaks free for air your cheeks are flushed and you are embarrassed by your lack of kissing experience.

“that was my first kiss,” you blurt out as sunghoon’s chest heaved up and down.

“what?” sunghoon says a little stunned, not that he’s complaining, he’s glad to be your first kiss. but how has nobody ever kissed you before?

“yeah,” you uncomfortably giggle, “sorry if i was bad or anything, you were good though!”

“you were good,” sunghoon pats your head, pecking your cheek.

you bury your head in sunghoon’s neck as your cheeks continue to heat up. he can’t help but smile to himself at your adorable antics.

a minute later one of the hotel staff walks out to inform you two that the pool is now closed. sunghoon splashes you as you run away from him to exit the pool. wrapping yourself in the towel you had brought.

“i only brought one towel.”

sunghoon chuckles before unwrapping the fabric from around you and fixing it to cover both of your cold bodies.

you both rush into the elevator, pressing the button to your floor. sunghoon walks you to your room before kissing you goodnight.

though minutes later when you’re sat on your floor trying to process whatever just happened, there’s a knock at your door.

sunghoon is back with his phone and a change of clothes, still dripping onto your carpet.

“sunghoon?” you look at him confused.

“thought we could spend some more time together.”

you find yourself under the warm shower head with sunghoon behind you, gently shampooing your hair.

your drenched clothes are now laid on your balcony to dry.

the warm water hits your back as you wash his hair. steam engulfs the whole bathroom, fogging up the glass door, and the mirror.

the body wash you both lather on diminishing the scent of chlorine that followed you from the pool now replaced with strawberry and coconut.

it’s weird to think you and sunghoon are in such an intimate position after not talking for nearly a year and a half but it feels right.

the way he kisses you between rinsing his body makes an uncontrollable amount of butterflies erupt in your stomach.

you both get out of the shower, sunghoon shaking his hair like a wet dog, droplets of water hitting your face.

sunghoon gets changed into the clothes he brought from his room while you find something to wear in your suitcase.

he brushed your hair and blow-dried it for you as you did your skincare in the bathroom mirror. you spin around to apply some of your moisturizer to his pretty face.

you both finally crash onto your bed at a quarter to one in the morning. a time not ideal for your set alarm of six that will go off in a mere five hours. but that doesn’t seem to matter to you when you have your head rested on park sunghoon’s chest as his arms are around you, lips brushing against yours in one final kiss before the both of you fall into a deep sleep.

in the morning you realize you’ve hit snooze too many times when there's a loud pattern of knocks on your door. startling both you and sunghoon.

you instruct sunghoon to stay in bed while you answer the door.

your annoyed vice president is the one outside your door, storming past you and into your room only to notice sunghoon asleep on your bed.

“you spent the night with sunghoon?” jungwon gasps.

“shut up!” you shove him, “he’s still sleeping!”

“well, you need to get him back to his room before we head out to the city,” jungwon argues.

“oh my god! can you just cover for me for once?” you plead with the underclassmen, “just give me like an extra hour of sleep and we’ll meet you there!”

“fine, but if mrs. kim catches sunghoon in your room it’s all on you,” jungwon sighs, exiting your hotel room.

you let out a breath of relief as you climb back into bed with sunghoon. setting another alarm before slipping under the duvet and back into his strong arms.

you pray that nobody notices the two of you showing up late to the café for breakfast at the same time, with park sunghoon smelling like your signature scent of strawberries and coconut.

[shotmrmiller]

I'm your only situationship.

A/N : yall i stayed up til 324 am writing this. I felt like if i went to bed still only having it as a thought and not on 'paper' thats unacceptable. If i gotta think about this then so do yall! it was also supposed to be a small one shot but it got wildly out of hand im not sorry.

18+ MDNI

TW: typical smut, EXPLICIT mmkay im talkin clutch ur pearls explicit.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Simon had finally come home from a grueling 6-month mission. All he wanted was some Kentucky bourbon with you at your favorite seedy bar. 

Once he was home, Simon cleaned up, put on a black clinical mask, and sent a text to you to meet him there. As he finished his first glass of the night, a rather attractive young woman approached him, asking if she could buy him a drink. 

“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, lovie?”

“Not at all. This is after all the 21st century. I’m simply asking— wouldn’t want any missus at home getting upset.”

“There’s no one at home for me, lass.”

“Well then, how about you get yourself another glass, my treat, and we’ll see where this night takes us?” 

He slightly nodded —he’d never say no to a free drink— and as she left to order a drink, he took his phone out to text you again.

“C’mon, pet. I’ll cover the tab. Too good f’me, now?”

His phone vibrated a minute later.

“I can’t today, Si.”

“Why not? I know you don’t go out on Sundays.”

As the young woman came back, drinks in hand, he lifted the screen to read your response.

“I’ve got a dick appointment~ It’s been a year and then some and I’m gonna claw at my walls if I don’t get a fix ASAP.”

Simon goes tense— soft blues hardening to a silver and he’s gripping his phone so hard it might crack. He pulls up your contact and calls you within seconds.

“Hiya, Si!” 

“What the fuck is a dick appointment?”

“Oh,” you giggle. “I forget you older folk don’t know ‘bout that. It’s just a one-night fling. No commitments or nothin'.’ Exactly what I need right now.” You don’t tell him that the reason you’ve practically regrown your hymen is that when you’re best friends with Simon, every other male in existence pales in comparison. 

“Anyway Si-, he’s getting here in like an hour-”

“No.” And hangs up. 

The young woman who’s casually rubbing his bicep and shoulder gets practically flung off of him, as he gets up off the bar stool so fast it’s falling back with a loud clang, and he’s yanking his leather jacket on and pulling on his leather gloves so hard they’re about to become fingerless—

“Hey! I thought you didn’t have a girlfriend?!”

One gloved hand gripping the front door, he turns his head slightly to her and says, “Pet, with how good I’m gonna fuck her, she won’t even have to ask to know she’s mine.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You’re standing in the bathroom with your liquid eyeliner in one hand and phone in the other, staring at the ended call screen. ‘Weird,’ you think, then shrug and put the phone down. ‘Maybe the call got dropped.’

You finally complete the look with your false lashes when there’s a very hard knock on your door. You frown as you look at your phone screen. ‘7:14 pm’. You know the guy said at 8 and you’re in one of Simon’s big shirts he always forgets and your hair is still tied up in an oversized pink and white polka dot scrunchie— The pink leopard print booty shorts you’ve got on will suffice. 

The second time there’s a knock it’s even louder. 

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” 

You open the door and say, “I’m sorry I took so long, I—”

Simon flies past you, with a rough shoulder bump and you turn to look at him and he’s almost sprinting to the bedroom, slamming the door open—

“Simon, what the fuck? What’re you doin—”

“Where is he?”, he snarls.

“Who?! Are you talking about my date? He’s not getting here til 8! And why’re you slamming doors in my apartment like you pay my rent?!”

You see Simon deflate immediately at the important part of your answer and chooses to ignore the rest as he takes off his jacket and walks to your hall closet to hang it. Closing your door and locking it, you growl out,

“You need to leave. I haven’t even finished getting ready. I promise I’ll—”

“No, pet.”

“Will you quit interrupting me! Simon, I swear—”

“Pet.” 

You’re holding a scream behind your teeth, about to rip the hair out of your scalp when you see Simon take one loop of his mask off from around his ear and then the other. You gape. You’ve seen Simon without his mask— that isn’t the reason you can no longer find your voice. It’s the way he put his gloved middle finger in between his teeth and pulled it off so sensually. You can feel your cheeks and ears radiate heat from just seeing the tip of his pink tongue. Christ, you’re down horrendously.

You open your mouth to say something, anything, to distract yourself from the fact that you’re getting wet over an interaction so chaste when Simon is touching your ass, giving it a hard squeeze, before moving down to the back of your thighs and lifting you up. You startle at the movement and throw your arms around his neck out of habit, hoping he won’t drop you in the move to your bedroom.

He presses you against the wall with his hips, then grabs both of your ankles from behind his lower back and hooks the back of your knees over his forearms. Simon noses your jaw and starts grinding his clothed erection deliciously hard over the definitely wet spot on your shorts and growls out, 

“If you think,” grind “that I’m gonna allow My,” grind “Girl,”  grind—and you whimper in his ear,  “get fucked by some little cock two pump chump,” he gives a forced chuckle, “you must be daft, pet. Or maybe you’re doing it on purpose, eh? Trying to get my attention? Well, you’ve got it now. “ 

He moves his face to hover his lips over yours— you can lightly smell the bourbon he drank earlier— and he whispers, “You ever like this and I’m around, you come to me. And if I’m away, you wait for me like a good girl and when I come back I’ll give this,” he taps your pussy over your shorts, “greedy little cunt all the cock it can take.”

With a shaky breath, you nod before he kisses you, his bourbon-flavored tongue curling against yours, and you’re moaning into it because you’ve wanted this for too long and he’s finally touching you. Curling your fingers into his ash-brown hair, you move your mouth to his neck, to the right of his adam’s apple, took a bit of skin between your teeth and sucked. 

Simon hisses, dips his fingertips into your flesh hard enough to bruise, and all but yanks you off the wall to toss you onto your bed. 

You yelp as you bounce from the force of his throw— you’re still bouncing on the bed when Simon grabs the waistband of your shorts and knickers to pull right off, which you’re grateful for because the grey knickers you got on aren’t what anyone would wear for a first, second nor third impression.

Simon grabs both of the back of your knees with one hand,  goddamn bear paws, you think, before you feel his tongue in between your lips— so warm and wet and fuck, you needed this, needed him— and he flicks his tongue up and down on your clit. He sticks his long middle finger into you and it goes in without resistance, you’re slippery, drooling over his wrist and finger that’s curled up into the rough patch of nerves against your gummy walls, that he’s pressing into, over and over. God you’re about to come, your legs shake in his one-handed hold and you’ve got a white knuckle grip on the forearm you’re sinking your nails into—

Simon pulls away. You were so close, your eyes start watering because he can’t possibly be this mean to you but then you see him shove his tongue in between his middle and ring finger, eating up your nectar when he says, “The first time I’m gonna make you come, it’ll be on my cock. I want to see the frothy white cream you're gonna leave at the base.” 

You’re nodding hysterically at this point, anything for him to make you come, anything for him.  With a twirl of his index, he’s telling you to get on all fours. Scrambling, you turn over and arch your back— resting your head on your forearms— and you feel his calloused palms run down from your spine to your ass cheeks before he gives it a spank. 

“You have a condom?” 

You shake your head and you mewl out, “No, but I’m clean.”

“Good. I don’t want anything between us.”

You arch your back further, pressing your ass further into his hips when you hear his belt buckle clank and zipper open. Simon brings his palm to your other cheek, reddening it. 

“Fuckin’ hell, pet. Look at you spread out for me.” 

You feel warm velvet over steel over your slit before he slowly pushes inside, not all the way but about a little over half of his length, remembering that your g-spot is a little closer to the front. Fast, relatively shallow thrusts hitting your spot with almost clinical precision have you reeling, your orgasm about to break you, mind and body. Hands tightening painfully, you shatter— loud, high-pitched whines, ringing in your ears and pussy pulsing around Simon’s thick girth— and god, Simon doesn’t stop thrusting. He keeps the same smooth rhythm and you’d think he’s unaffected by the tight vice your pussy has him in— but you hear him, low, deep groans and a tighter grip on your hips telling you otherwise. 

He pulls out to bend over your back, completely covering it, and he murmurs in your ear, “I hope you didn’t think we were done. My girl wanted a fuckin’, now she’s gonna get it.” 

He takes off your pink, silly scrunchy and you see it around his tattooed wrist before he grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail and is leaning back up and forcing your back to arch under his pull. You feel his leg at the height of your hips— propped up, foot flat on the bed and knee bent and the other straight on the floor and all you can think of is how this man is gonna kill you with his cock. 

Simon snaps his hips forward, fist full of hair pulling back,  stretching and filling in one strong thrust, bottoming out. He gives you no reprieve, no time to get used to how fucking deep he is, and sets an intense, firm pace that has you feeling a pinch below the navel every time his hip bones slap against your ass, balls to the clit and you love it. Every pinch in your lower belly has your pussy making a squelching sound and you can’t help yourself— you reach underneath your body to feel how split open you are with two fingers, encasing his cock and feeling the skin drag with them as he pulls out.

That has him hissing air between his teeth, he’s about to come but doesn't want it to be over so he pulls out, and opens your cheeks to spit in your furled hole, before pressing in with the pad of his thumb, and you’re almost screaming. He moves back a bit further to spit in your pussy, not that you need it— you’re drenching the sheets underneath you— and now he’s spearing you with his tongue before curling it, getting your juices pooled on it before coming back up, lips smacking, and he grabs your hair in his ponytail and now he uses his other hand to curls his fingers and palm over the front of your throat and that's all it takes for your vision to darken and arms go limp but he’s again, fucking you through your orgasm and this time you leave a creamy white ring at the base of his length. 

“Oh, fuckin hell.” He groans out and it sounds desperate and you know he’s close.

“Come in me, Simon. Please fill me up, I promise I’ll keep it all in.”

He gives a strained chuckle and says, “Pet, I can barely pull out of a driveway much less this tight little cunt.” He squeezes your throat hard, strands of hair popping out of your scalp and his cock feels massive, the pinch in your stomach feels like a cramp from how deep he is and he lets out a low drawn out moan that lasts 3 thrusts— and then there’s warmth filling you up, so much so it leaks from the sides of where you two are connected. Simon lets go of your hair and you fall face-first onto the bed, exhausted. Defeated. Back properly broken. You officially know what it’s like to get fucked within an inch of your life and you love it. 

He pulls out slowly, with a hiss from both of you and with one hand on your left cheek, he spreads you to look at your stuffed hole.

“Fuck. I love seeing me drip out of you.” 

You’re about to tell him to sod off when the doorbell rings and the both of you stiffen and lock eyes. With a mean snarl, Simon grabs a towel from your bathroom and his mask before stomping his way to answer the door, pink obnoxious scrunchy still on his wrist.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[caelesjjk]

entangled - jjk&kth - part two

⟶title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 9k ⟶ warnings: mentions of blood and injuries, more infidelity type things, reader is confused af, two smut scenes because we take what they wanna give us: unprotected sex (don’t do this tho), dirty talk, kissing, fingering, couple position switches, it’s all pretty lovey dovey ⟶ summary: Kim Taehyung is Venom. A huge, terrifying symbiote monster that’s bonded with him and made a deal for a common goal. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your feelings are mixed and frazzled and confused. But you may not have the time to sort them out just yet if you can’t keep the two people you care about most from killing each other first. ⟶ authors note: hello darklings. You’ve all waited way too long for me to get this second part together and for that I apologize. I hope this makes up for the wait. The third and final part that follows this will be a bit of a wait too while I work on another fic, but I promise it will come. Big endless shoutout to @sailoryooons for listening to me whine about this for months and for beta reading the mess that it became. Also shouts to @tea4sykes for reading before it was even done to reassure me it was flowing okay. I love you guys.

Part One (if you missed it)

playlist if you want it: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5cg79N5KQBmZ9fOCtyD3A7?si=cQlAtRT7Roat33E60rzKtQ&pi=u-lMIH9SpZSD6X

You needed to run.

Everything was happening too quickly, your head couldn’t catch up with your feet that were scrambling across the floor in every direction trying to escape the monster Taehyung had just turned into. He had you completely trapped with nowhere to go.

Not to mention you were mostly naked with only a thin sheet barely clinging around you.

“Stop! Leave me alone! Please!” You beg and scream as it cuts you off again when you make a dash for the stairs.

“No. Leaving.” Venom roars and tries to make a move towards you, but stops when you accidentally back into the record player Taehyung has sitting on his side table.

The record scratches and squeaks at a high pitch and Venom groans in pain at the sound, his clawed hands grabbing at his head as he stumbles backwards. His black, crawling skin pulls away until you catch glimpses of Taehyung beneath the monster. 

“Run. Please…run,” he begs before Venom consumes him again. But before he can get too far, you push over the record player so that it makes a constant high pitched noise and Venom screams until he falls back against the railing and goes over the edge.

You don’t wait to see anything else. 

Grabbing the ends of the sheet you dash towards the bathroom and shove the door closed behind you, looking around frantically for a way to escape. Immediately your eyes see the fire escape outside the window. 

You see some discarded clothes on the floor and immediately throw on the T-shirt and basketball shorts before using all your strength to shove open the old window that has obviously not been used in years. The old white paint cracks and splinters to the floor as you climb up onto the sill.

A loud bang suddenly sounds from outside the bathroom door. Venom must’ve stopped the record player. 

“Where are you, girl?” You hear his menacing voice travel through the door. 

Your pulse picks up again as you shove yourself the rest of the way out the window and into the pouring rain. The metal of the fire escape creaks and brings an instant chill to your already shaking body. 

Looking back, you see the bathroom door shatter with the force the monster uses to break it open. You can barely hear yourself scream as you throw your weight onto the top of the window and close it behind you. You don’t look back again as you sprint down the stairs of the fire escape, but the sound of Venom crashing through the glass makes you move faster. 

Bricks from the warehouse crunch beneath his claws and feet, causing pieces to crumble and rain down over your head. As soon as your bare feet hit the pavement, you make a mad dash past the docks and towards the main road.

The rain pelts against your face as the clouds continue to block the sun that should be starting to come up now. There is barely any light for you to see where you are going while the world is still wrapped in a navy blue hue.

You can see headlights up ahead. Cars. People. A way out.

“Not so fast.” Venom suddenly drops in front of you, making you stumble and fall to your back against the cobblestones. Your elbows scrape across the ground as you try to move away but he’s too big and too fast.

“Please…just let me go. I won’t tell anyone about you. I swear.” You press flat to the ground as Venom looms over you, his face slowly maneuvering downwards until your nose almost touches him.

“We…want to keep you. Protect you.” 

“You’re scaring me, Taehyung. How can you say you want to protect me?” The crawling, black skin of Venom’s face peels away to reveal Taehyung once more.

“You’re in the middle of something that you shouldn’t be,” Taehyung says desperately. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“_____, please stay away from Jungkook. He-” Taehyung is cut off when Venom closes the skin back over his face. “He’s here,” he growls, moving to stand over top of you.

Before you can question him again, the bright light of a laser blast shoots past you, barely skimming Venom’s shoulder and blowing chunks of the ground all over you.

When you look back up, the red and gold suit of Ironman comes flying into your view. He tries to fly between you and Venom, but the monster is too fast, back handing Ironman and sending him flying into the side of one of the buildings.

“No!” You yell, trying to get to your feet but you can’t get your footing with all the rubble surrounding you.

“Stay. Back,” Venom whips around to tell you. That distraction is enough for Ironman to come flying back, hitting Venom in the stomach with his shoulder and throwing the two of them about ten feet away.

You don’t want Jin to hurt Taehyung. Venom is the monster. Taehyung is good. He’s gentle and kind. 

Your head hurts so badly and there’s blood dripping down your newly busted lip. You don’t know what you can do but you have to do something. 

Getting to your feet as the rain continues to pour from the thundering clouds overhead, you clamber through the rubble trying to get closer to where Jin has Venom pinned against the side of a dumpster. Just as you approach, Venom hits Jin’s hand away causing the laser blast to go off and almost hit you. You felt the heat of it skim past your face.

“Get out of here, _____! Now!” Jin yells, losing his balance when Venom pushes him off into the side of another building. You fall back on your ass, hitting the wet street once again.

Venom crawls over to you slowly. The sight of it freezing you in place as the slithering skin of his face once again pulls back to reveal Taehyung.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says, bending to get closer to you. You can see Jin getting back up out of the corner of your eye.

“Run, Tae. Please just run away and hide. And don’t ever come looking for me again. They’ll kill you.” You touch his cheek and his eyes close. “Please go.”

Just as you take your hand away you hear someone from above you yell your name, your head whipping up at the familiar sound.

Venom’s face consumes Taehyung again as he steps in front of you defensively. Jungkook comes into view, swinging down from a web attached to the nearest warehouse. 

Jungkook moves so quickly you can barely register what’s happening before he’s kicking Venom hard enough to make him roar and fly across the other side of the road.

“Get her out of here, Jungkook!” Jin yells as he comes back into the fight.

“We have him where we want him! I’m not leaving!” Jungkook yells back, shooting a web at one of the big pieces of rubble and flinging it towards Venom.

It shouldn’t hurt to hear him say that.

It shouldn’t sting like a slap across the face when he doesn’t choose you again. But god, does it fucking ever.

“Now!” Jin screams the word at Jungkook, barely holding off Venom, who is scraping and clawing with all his might to get back to you.

Such an anomaly this turned out to be.

Jungkook shoots off a few more webs, catching them on one of Venom’s wrists and sticking to the ground so it’s harder for him to move. And then Jungkook is whirling around and scooping you into his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck instinctively, looking over his shoulder to watch the fight between Jin and Venom for as long as you can before they’re just dots in the distance as Jungkook swings you back into the city.

You almost start to doze off from exhaustion when you feel the world stop moving and Jungkook standing you on your feet. You almost lose your balance at the loss of him so suddenly.

“What the fuck were you doing out there, ____?” Jungkook asks, his voice loud and full of an anger you’d never heard from him before.

“I…I was just going for a walk…” the lie falls from your mouth before you even have a chance to think about it. “I got lost…”

“How do you always do this? How are you always in the middle of some terrible shit?” Jungkook rips his mask off and throws it across your bedroom against the opposite wall before he starts to pace.

“I’m sorry…” you feel so small as you watch the anger radiate off of him.

“Sorry? You’re sorry? Do you have any idea what you’ve likely cost us tonight?” He comes into your space, backing you into your kitchen counter.

“Jungkook…” 

“Just…stay out of my way, Data.” His shoulders slump when he steps back from you and grabs his mask from the floor. Your body shakes and gives into your exhaustion, your knees hitting the floor as Jungkook bounds off your balcony.

The only light in your apartment is from the barely there sun, casting shadows of your furniture and the plants on the windowsill across the hardwood floor. It’s quiet, too quiet when there’s a busy city 10 floors down.

How could one person make you feel so loved and so alone at the same time? Were you the bad guy? You slept with Taehyung out of spite…didn’t you? That’s how it started at least…now you’re not sure how you feel.

You don’t understand Taehyung, and part of you wants to know more. Why is he allowing Venom to control him and use him? What does he get out of it? All questions you would love to ask him if he wasn’t an absolutely terrifying monster.

A monster that Jungkook could possibly be killing right now. That thought makes you nauseous immediately.

You crawl across the floor until you can press your back against the wall, pulling your knees to your chest and putting your head between them. You needed to block it all out for a moment…or several.

You don’t know how long you have been sitting there or when you fall asleep but eventually you lift your head and squint at the sun trickling in through your windows and balcony doors. A perfectly cool breeze moves your green curtains and gives you goosebumps.

When your back starts to hurt from sitting on the wood floor, you convince yourself to get up to close the door. You know you desperately need a shower as well.

As you reach the balcony door, you see Jungkook sitting on your stone railing, his head in his hands. You want to rush towards him and make sure he’s okay, but you stay put.

“How long have you been out here?” You ask quietly, hand gripping the door handle too tightly.

“A while.” Jungkook mutters, his hands coming up to his hair and pulling at the roots.

“You…you should go home, Jungkook.” You hate the sound of your own voice right now. Weak and scratchy.

“I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier, Data.” He moves slowly, head coming up as he slides off the railing to stand.

“But you did. And I have a feeling you meant them.”

“No…I just don’t understand why we can’t catch this monster. And when I saw you there, I lost it.” He runs his hand through his mess of black waves.

“Did…did you catch him now?” You swallow thickly, not sure what answer you want to hear.

“No. Jin couldn’t hold him. He’s looking into asking Dr. Kim for help in building a trap.” He looks defeated and the guilt starts to crawl up your throat.

Dr. Kim Namjoon is a scientist that most people would know as the Hulk. He’s a brilliant mind and someone you very much look up to as far as the career path you hope to take one day. It scares you that he might get involved in capturing…or killing Taehyung.

“I’m sorry,” is all you can manage to whisper.

“Data…” He steps closer to you and you flinch a little. “Fuck…fuck I’m so sorry. You were scared and you’re…you’re fucking hurt and all I did was yell at you.” Jungkook stays where he is, but reaches out his hand towards you.

“I don’t…I can’t,” you whimper.

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you, baby. Please.” His hand stays out stretched and you know if you take it that the guilt will continue to eat away at you. That you can never tell him what you know. Because you care about Jungkook…but you care about Taehyung too, and you just hope he runs and doesn’t come back.

You take Jungkook’s hand and he gently steps towards you again until he’s close enough to cup your face in his hands, angling it in different ways to mentally take note of your injuries. He runs his thumb over the bump on your forehead and the cut on your lip that has you wincing. His lips press to your forehead when your arms finally wrap around his middle and fingers grip at his back.

“I’m just making trouble for you, JK.” Your lip trembles when you look up into his eyes, his brows scrunching in confusion.

“We knew when we started that this wasn’t going to be easy. But I…I have a responsibility, Data. And I’m doing my best to do that and keep you safe.” He swipes at your tears and lifts you onto the counter so he can stand between your thighs. “I’ll always keep you safe.”

You believe him. But at what cost? What will happen to him if he continues to worry about you instead of the danger he is so heroically protecting the city…maybe even the world from. He is your best friend and something so much more. 

Your hands slide into his hair, the damp strands sliding through your fingers in the most familiar way. Jungkook's hands stay on your cheeks as he pulls your mouth to his, swallowing the little whimpers that try to escape you.

His lips taste like his favorite minty chapstick and the cinnamon gum he had probably chewed on his way back to your apartment. He always chews it when he needs to think more clearly.

“You have every right to be angry with me,” you whisper between sweet pecks to your lips.

“Angry…maybe. But cruel? No. You mean more to me than that.” His mouth finds your jaw while his hands gently hold your shoulders. “How about a bath?”

Could you really be deserving of these moments with Jungkook when you were enjoying being face down on Taehyung’s bed just a day ago?

Fuck. You were so fucking selfish.

You nod your head ‘yes’, not trusting your voice when guilt is rising up your throat.

Jungkook picks you up from the counter, your arms around his neck and legs around his hips as he carries you towards your tiny apartment bathroom. Stopping once or twice to press your back against the wall and slip his tongue into your mouth. A tongue that you gladly suck between your teeth until he moans your name.

“Get these off.” Jungkook shoves into your bathroom, the space almost too small for you and his broad body. He makes quick but gentle work of your dirt and blood stained clothes, kicking them into the corner of the bathroom.

You help him slide the sleeves of his blue and red suit down his arms, slowly revealing all the beautiful ink tattooed into the skin of his right arm. Your hands follow the dips of muscle of his torso as more skin is revealed from beneath his suit.

After he’s naked and you’ve thoroughly touched as much of his bare body as you can, you slide your ass up onto your tiny marble vanity and open your legs for him to stand between. Jungkook stands back a moment, his eyes roaming and settling between your legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? You went through a lot tonight…” You don’t let him finish his sentence, wrapping your fingers around his semi-hard cock so you can stroke him.

“Let’s talk later. Right now I just need to feel you inside me. Remind me why I’m yours…please.” You could feel traitorous tears try to well in your eyes and Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion for a moment.

“Data…” He puts his hand over yours to stop your strokes.

“No. Please…I need you.” You meet his eyes and it only takes him a moment to tighten his hand on yours and help you move your fist up and down his cock again.

Jungkooks head rolls forward, a deep grumble in his chest sending shivers up your spine. He steps closer so his hips can widen your thighs and you can guide his cock to your entrance. You’re so wet that he easily pushes into you, your back arching off the vanity mirror at the stretch.

“You’ve always been my girl, Data.” His tattooed hand grips your hip and steadies you when he begins to shallow thrust, crude wet noises already coming from where your bodies meet. “Your pussy always remembers me so well.”

“Do the other Avengers know how filthy your mouth is?” You whisper, leaning forward to kiss him.

“My filthy mouth is only for you.” Jungkook kisses you back, sheathing himself completely inside you and holding himself there. He moves his swollen lips down your jaw and over your chest until he reaches your nipples, sucking and pulling until you’re a moaning mess.

“Please move, Jungkook.” You inch your ass forward until it’s perched right on the edge of the vanity. Jungkook groans against your breast, lifting his head to look where your bodies meet.

He holds both your hips in his hands as he begins a quick pace. But no matter how fast he pumps his hips against you, he never misses that spot inside you that makes stars dance across your eyelids.

“You feel so good. I don’t think I’m gonna last…” His distressed face meets yours and you reach up to touch his face and pull him closer.

“I’m so close, JK…please make me come.” He kisses you, hard and unyielding while his cock drills you against the mirror. You’re almost afraid it’ll break when he forgets how strong he is. But you don’t care, you want him to break you. You don’t deserve soft and sweet right now.

Jungkook lifts you off the vanity and faster than humanly possible has you on the floor of your hallway right outside your tiny bathroom. He throws your legs over his shoulders and hits a spot inside you that almost immediately has you crying out his name and coming all over his cock. Your pussy clenches around him so hard it makes him whimper above you, bringing him to his own orgasm. He fills you up as warmth spreads all over your body.

“Did I hurt you? I was too rough…” His hands are immediately on your face angling you to look at him.

“No, I’m okay. I promise.” You smile at him, hoping that it feels real. You’re too riddled with guilt.

“Let’s get in the bath.” He pulls out of you slowly, sitting up on his knees while he presses soft kisses to your fingers and palm.

The tub is far too small for the both of you, but it doesn’t matter. Water sloshes out onto the floor each time you move, but that doesn’t matter either. It feels good to have his warmth behind you when you lean back against his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Jungkook asks after a while, his hands rubbing your arms while his lips kiss the top of your head.

You freeze, knowing that you should tell him the truth. That you know who the monster is that he’s searching for. But you can’t bring yourself to put Taehyung in danger. So you lie. Again.

“I went for drinks with friends last night…I got lost walking home. I don’t know how I ended up at the docks. It was so stupid of me…” You hate how easily the lie spilled out.

“You aren’t stupid, Data. You just seem to have a magnet for danger.” He laughs quietly, kissing your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have made you feel like it was your fault.”

“It was my fault. I messed things up for you and Jin,” you sigh, slumping against his wet chest.

“Don’t worry about that. It won’t be much longer before we have the monster.” 

“Have him?” You ask, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Mr. Kim thinks the monster is a human. An experiment gone wrong. He wants to help him…or study him. As long as it isn’t running free in the city anymore.” Jungkook explains, his hands gathering some soap bubbles from the water and washing your arms and chest with gentle fingers.

“How would he help him?” If Jin can help Taehyung…then maybe he can get rid of Venom.

“I’m not sure. I think we would be better off getting rid of it altogether. It’s a menace.” You feel Jungkook’s muscles tense as he talks and you know you still can't tell him the truth about Venom.

You don’t say anything else, afraid that your voice will shake and give you away. He knows you too well. 

Jungkook makes sure you’re cleaned up and comfortable in bed before he leaves you again. In most cases you would feel hurt that he’s left, but you need time to think without your feelings being clouded by his presence.

What the fuck are you going to do?

Going about your normal day to day life felt wrong. You go to school. You study with your friends. You see Jungkook on occasion, and every time you do, the guilt burrows a little deeper inside you, whittling away at your ability to keep up the facade. 

What makes it worse was that Taehyung hasn’t been at school for two weeks. It makes you absolutely terrified that something has happened to him. That undeniable connection you felt with him makes it difficult not to worry.

Sleep almost completely evades you the last two weeks.

“You look terrible,” Hoseok pokes, sitting a fresh coffee down in front of you on the library study table.

“Charming,” you grumble, snatching the coffee and inhaling its heavenly caffeine-illed scent.

“It’s not even finals season, why aren’t you sleeping? Trouble with the boyfriend perhaps?” Hobi sits his backpack down and plops into the chair next to you.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.” You press your forehead to the table and gently hit it against the top a few times. “And I just…my upstairs neighbor has been noisy.” The lies start to come out easier and easier the more you make up.

“I told you to move in with me months ago. Way closer to campus.” He pops some cheese cracker snacks into his mouth.

You know it would be nice to live with Hoseok. Easy. But you can’t. Not with Spider-Man coming and going and a giant monster possibly looking for you now. You could never forgive yourself if something happened to your friend.

“I appreciate that offer, you know I do. I just…like my space.” You sigh, lifting your head to meet his eyes. He probably knows you’re lying, but if he does, he doesn’t let on.

“Offer continues to stand if you change your mind, ___.” The look on his face is serious for a moment before he points the bag of snacks towards you. “Crackers?”

You smile and take a handful, popping them into your mouth as you sit back in your chair and listen to Hoseok talk more about nothing and everything for as long as you can.

After Hobi leaves, you continue to study until you notice the daylight is starting to disappear outside the library windows. You stretch your arms over your head, groaning when your stiff muscles protest before packing up your things to finally head home for the night.

Pulling your phone from your bag, you see there’s been no messages from Jungkook since yesterday afternoon when he said he would stop by as soon as he could. It shouldn’t be disappointing, you should be used to it, but that little pang still makes you feel some type of way.

You sigh, shoving your phone into your back pocket as you exit the library and see that it’s raining again. It seems like there has been constant rain over the last two weeks, making everything dreary. A mirror to how you felt inside as well.

Not having an umbrella, you power walk down the street towards the train station to get home. It’s only a couple of blocks but you still hate to do it at night. Especially when you get a sudden chill at the back of your neck, as if someone is following you. But every time you turn around, no one is there.

“Relax, ____. You’re exhausted and delirious,” you say to yourself, trying to calm your nerves as you continue walking.

Something big moves at the corner of your eye, dashing down the alleyway to your right and making you halt your quick steps. The only way to your apartment is past that alleyway, so you convince yourself once more that the exhaustion is getting to you and you press forward down the sidewalk.

You hold your breath and close your eyes as you sprint past the alleyway, stopping after a few feet to catch your breath.

You make it. You’re in the clear. The home stretch.

A cold hand wraps around your wrist and yanks you backwards into the alley. Your brain tries to catch up with what’s happening but when you try to scream, another hand covers your mouth just as your back is pressed against the cold, wet bricks of the wall behind you.

“Pigeon.” Taehyung’s deep voice sounds hoarse but also relieved. Your fight or flight instincts immediately melt away when your eyes settle on his injured face.

A cut on his eyebrow, a bruise beneath his left eye, blood dripping from his forehead from beneath his mess of black hair. What the hell happened to him?

You gently wrap your hand around his wrist and slowly move his hand away from your mouth.

“I won’t scream. I promise,” you assure him, his shoulders visibly unwinding.

“I know you’re scared of me. I’m sorry…I put you in danger because I was being selfish.” Taehyung takes a step back from you, giving you space.

“I’m not scared of you.” You reach out and softly touch his cheek just beneath his eye where the bruise has blossomed and he shivers at your touch.

“I’m just glad that you’re safe.” Taehyung moves your palm to his lips and presses a kiss to your skin.

“What happened to you, Taehyung? Where have you been?” 

“All I’ve wanted since this started was to expose The Life Foundation. They’re testing on people and killing them. Not a single person has survived until…”

“You,” you say quietly, watching his shoulders slump before he nods in agreement. “How did this happen?”

“I went to the lab to interview a couple of the scientists for an assignment…I got a little too curious I guess and followed a scientist down into a part of the lab no one knows exists. That’s where I saw the people they’re testing on…in cages. The symbiotes like Venom need a host but it wasn’t working and no one was surviving.” Taehyung runs his hand through his hair before he continues. “I accidentally released Venom when I tried to save one of the people in the cages and he bonded with me and somehow I survived. Still not sure how…”

“What’s stopping you from exposing them?” 

“I wanted to have hard proof before I took the information somewhere else but I haven’t been able to get back inside the lab, not even with Venom.” 

“Because of Jungkook.”

“He doesn’t understand what he’s getting himself into. They have suspicions but they’re keeping me from shutting the place down.” Taehyung sighs. “Your boyfriend is a pain in my ass.”

“What if…what if we talk to him? Jungkook will listen. I know he…” Taehyung cuts you off with a laugh.

“They think I’m a monster…and they aren’t wrong. But all Venom wants is to save the other symbiotes and get back to their planet.” Taehyung’s words almost sound disappointed when he talks about Venom leaving.

“But he’s…he’s hurting you. Can’t Venom heal you?”

“He does…he has. This last round of injuries was…extensive. I’m just healing more slowly.” He slumps against the opposite wall of the alley.

“You need to rest.”

“No. No, we’re going back to the lab tonight to try again.”

“Taehyung, please. He’s going to get you killed. Jungkook and Jin…they’re powerful.”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” He raises his voice slightly, but chokes on his words, folding over when a pain shoots through his side.

“That’s it. I want to talk to Venom.” You can’t stand to see him like this.

“Absolutely not. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“You’ll be there, right? You won’t let him hurt me.”

“I can’t always control him. He doesn’t always listen.” His eyes search yours for any sign of fear but he doesn’t find it.

“Let him out.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for Taehyung to release his monster.

“Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving.” He takes several steps away from you until there’s plenty of space between the two of you. You nod that you’re ready.

The black crawling skin of Venom consumes Taehyung in almost an instant, his handsome face disappearing beneath terrifying white eyes and razor sharp teeth. Deep, bass filled growls flow from between those teeth and rumble the ground beneath your feet.

“Creature.” He says, smiling widely.

“Monster.” You retort.

“Sorry for…chasing you.” He keeps his distance, but paces back and forth through the alley. “I was…hungry.”

“You chase people and destroy buildings when you’re hungry?” You half laugh in disbelief.

“Very hungry!” He growls, pushing against a dumpster.

“Fine. Forget about it. I want you to let Taehyung rest, you’re going to get him killed.”

“Taehyung is fine.”

“No he isn’t! He’s all beat up, and I don’t even want to know what’s wrong internally. He needs time to heal.” You take a few steps closer.

“I can heal him, Creature.”

“He needs to rest. You need him and he won’t be of any use if he’s dead.” You stop as Venom groans and shoves his fists into the ground beside you.

“Demanding little bug.” He half spits.

“How long can you live without your host?” You don’t flinch at his outburst.

Venom doesn’t answer right away, he goes back to pacing the alley before he starts talking to himself…or to Taehyung.

“Bad idea…she pisses me off…should eat her…” Venom grabs his head in pain when the last line leaves his mouth. “Fine. No eating.” He comes back to stand in front of you, looming several feet taller. 

You look up and hold your stance. You’ll never let this pain in the ass monster know that he absolutely terrifies you.

“Three days. Three days before your atmosphere kills me.” Venom says, not seeming pleased.

“Then leave him alone for three days. Go away and let him rest. I mean it.” Venom lowers his face to yours so that you’re standing eye to eye. 

You can see your reflection in the shiny white of his eyes and your heart picks up its pace. Not because of the monster in front of you, but because somewhere behind those eyes is a man that means more to you than you thought he ever could. The strange feeling of just knowing someone is meant to be in your life becomes slightly overwhelming.

Without a second thought, one of your hands comes up and touches the side of Venom's face. His symbiote skin is cold, strange and unfamiliar. But it only takes a moment before Venom is melting away and once again revealing the stunned face of Taehyung.

“You got him to listen.” He breathes, taking your face in his hands.

“He’s not so tough.” You smile when he laughs and presses his forehead against yours.

“You’re exquisite.” His nose skims yours. “And I missed you.”

“I was so worried about you,” you admit softly against his mouth that has gravitated to yours.

He kisses you softly for a moment, neither of you noticing as Venom slithers out and makes his exit down the alley. You’re too relieved to have Taehyung safely pressed against you again. And when he starts to deepen your kiss, as much as you want it to continue, you press your palm to his chest and gently push him back.

“What’s the matter?” He asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I wasn’t joking about you getting rest. I got you three days with no Venom. Let’s get you home, okay?” You lace your fingers through his and start walking towards the street, but he stops you.

“I haven’t been able to go back to the warehouse. They’ve been watching it like hawks.” His shoulder slump when he rubs the back of his neck.

“Where have you been sleeping?” 

“Abandoned buildings mostly. Or just not at all.” He laughs half heartedly.

“Let’s go to my place.” You know it’s a bad idea. Jungkook could drop in at any moment and you aren’t sure how he would react to finding the man behind the monster he’s been so desperately trying to defeat. “You’ll be safe there.”

“Will I?” Taehyung asks, wary for the same reasons you are.

“Yes. Because I’ll protect you.” Taehyung smiles at your declaration.

“I have no doubts about that, Pigeon.”

You take as many back ways as you can think of until you reach your apartment building, releasing a long breath when you safely reach the elevator and unlock your door. 

It feels strange to have Taehyung here, but also very right. He looks like a weight has been lifted off of him as he takes in your green velvet couch and collection of coffee mugs with a boxy smile on his face.

“You’re adorable.” He says, picking up a tiny cactus from your bookshelf that could definitely use some water.

“It’s not much.” You shrug, feeling your cheeks heat.

“It’s perfect.” He comes back to stand in front of you, long fingers gently gripping your chin to make you look at him. “It’s you and I think that’s perfect.”

“Tae…” you sigh but give into the kiss he sweetly presses to your lips. 

“Thank you.” He whispers after a moment. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had…” You cut him off with another kiss.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You take both of his hands in yours and start to lead him towards your bathroom. “You, however, need to take a shower.”

“Saying I stink, Pigeon?” He teases, following you to your tiny bathroom.

“Definitely,” you counter, smiling when he laughs. A real laugh that you aren’t sure you’ve heard yet. It makes your stomach twist and clench.

“Come in with me?” Taehyung asks quietly when you bend to turn on the hot water for him. His fingers find your spine and tease up the column slowly.

God you want to. But the sudden memory of Jungkook in this bathroom with you two weeks ago clouds your vision and your ability to have this too.

“I’m going to make you some tea, okay? Take your time.” You stand on your toes to kiss him quickly, ignoring the pang in your chest when he pouts his bottom lip.

You close the bathroom door and press your back against it. You listen as Taehyung opens the shower curtain and gets inside, the smell of your rose scented body wash wafting from under the door when he uses it. You must be insane.

Bringing him here is so risky, but you can’t leave him out there with nowhere else to go. He means too much. 

When the bathroom door opens twenty minutes later, you jump at the sound, almost dropping your cup of tea to the hardwood floor. It almost takes a tumble a second time when you look up and see Taehyung standing in your kitchen with just a towel around his waist.

“My clothes were in pretty bad shape…I don’t suppose you have something I can borrow?” He asks with a shy smile on his face and fingers in his wet curls.

“Um…y-yeah. Yes. I’ll find something.” A wave of heat rushes over your skin as you hastily move past him and into your bedroom at the end of the hallway. He follows you, leaning against the door frame to watch you.

“Are you worried he’ll come here?” Taehyung asks, the pretty smile on his face replaced by a frown.

“A bit.” You admit, kneeling inside your closet to look through some drawers for sleeping pants. “It’s really just a matter of when…”

“Is he what you want?” The question throws you off, making you pause.

“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer, more complicated than it should be. Taehyung nods but doesn’t press for more information. You’re not sure you can come with anything else even if he wants you to.

You finally find a pair of green and navy blue plaid pajama pants, pulling them out of the drawer and bringing them to Taehyung. 

He drops the towel as soon as you’re in front of him, eyes holding you in place with nowhere to escape.

“Thanks, Pigeon.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes as he slips his long legs into the too short leg holes and settles them loosely on his narrow hips. Your breath shakes when he steps closer and closes the gap between you. 

“I made you tea,” you croak.

“I don’t want tea.” He practically moans against your neck when he nuzzles your jaw. “I want to show you why I’m what you want.”

Your entire being trembles at the words.

“You should rest, Taehyung.” You can’t stop your hands from finding the warm skin of his shoulders and chest.

“No rest for the wicked, Pigeon.” His mouth claims yours, swallowing down any other protest you may have tried to use.

He slowly leads you back until the back of your knees hit your bed and you both fall onto the mattress. He kisses you until you’re dizzy and desperate for air, your legs wrapping around his hips in a desperate attempt to bring him closer.

And then you remember that your stove is still turned on with tea likely boiling over all over the burners.

“Tae…” Yyou try to say before his lips close over yours again. “The tea…I need to go turn it off.”

“No.” He nips your lips and moves his kisses down your chin and over your jaw.

“I’ll be quick. Just wait here.” You playfully push him off of you, his head landing on your pillows with a smile on his face.

You look back over your shoulder when you reach the door, Taehyung winking as you round the corner into the hallway.

Luckily, the tea is where it should be, inside the kettle. You turn off the burner and move the kettle onto a potholder onto the counter top. Then quickly turn off the lights before stopping by the bathroom to make something of your mess of hair as quickly as possible.

Back in the bedroom, you barely make it inside the door before you hear the quiet snores coming from Taehyung. His arms above his head and his face buried in the pillows as he lays on his back against your mustard yellow sheets. His half dried curls a messy little halo around his head. 

He really is beautiful.

You make your way to the bed, pulling your comforter over his sleeping form and softly touching the bruises in his cheek. He doesn’t stir even a little. 

Over the next three days you, watch him.

You’ve never seen someone sleep so much in your life. It worries you at first, checking to see if he is breaking multiple times throughout the day. But he just continues to sleep, only moving to turn on his side or stomach and barely makes any noise at all.

You email your professors the first day and tell them that you won’t be in class but would follow along online. You move a chair into the corner of your bedroom so you can stay close to him. It keeps you busy while Taehyung sleeps.

You also keep busy with cleaning your apartment and thinking of ways to have a very hard and strange conversation with Jungkook. How did you tell your best friend…someone you love…that you may also have feelings for someone else? 

And how did you then tell your best friend that the other person you have feelings for is the monster he’s been trying to capture for months?

At night you curl up next to him in your bed, but always carefully so you don't disturb him. You want him to feel better as soon as possible.

It was mid morning on the third day, some very difficult calculus questions driving you crazy when you hear Taehyung groan and lift his head from the pillow. 

“Pigeon?” He croaks, his voice rough and dry.

“I’m here, it’s okay.” You toss your book aside, rushing over to the side table and handing him the glass of water you sat out every day in case he woke up needing it. “Drink this please.”

He doesn’t argue, taking the glass of water and downing all its contents in an instant. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hands, chest heaving.

“That may have been the best water I’ve had in my life.” You take the glass and sit down next to him on the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost three days.” You move some black curls away from his forehead when he looks up at you.

“Really? I wasted the whole three days sleeping? Fuck.” He sighs in annoyance.

“It wasn’t a waste, Tae. You obviously needed it after what you’ve been through lately.” 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flutter and twist. Like he’s never seen anyone like you or felt anything like your touch. It’s maddening.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move.” He squeezes your hand and jumps out of bed far too quickly, heading into your bathroom where you hear him using the extra toothbrush you had sat out for him. You can’t stop the smile that pulls at the corners of your mouth.

When he returns to the bed, he sits behind you and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling your back against his chest so he can nuzzle his face into your neck.

“Thank you for watching over me,” he mumbles into your neck.

“How do you know I watched over you?” You ask, leaning back into his chest.

“There’s a chair surrounded by snacks, coffee cups and calculus books set up in the corner, Pigeon.” Taehyung kisses your neck and makes you shudder. “You’re too good for me.”

“It’s not that.” Your voice is a whisper when he moves your sweater off of your shoulder to kiss the heated skin there.

“What is it?” His mouth continues leaving warm, wet paths along your neck and shoulder.

“I care…about you.” Your head lulls back against his shoulder when his hands slide up your front beneath your shirt to cup your breasts in his hands.

“I’m still going to show you why I’m what you want…what you need. I didn’t forget.” He nips your earlobe and pinches both nipples with his long fingers at the same time.

You spin around, grabbing his face roughly and slam your mouth onto his in the next second. Taehyung’s hands immediately find your hips helping you straddle his thighs to settle on his lap. 

Any clothing creating an unwanted barrier between the two of you are quickly discarded without a care for where they land. Your skin feels like there’s millions of tiny embers just below the surface waiting to crack through and set the whole room on fire. 

Taehyung holds one arm tightly around your waist while the other maneuvers the two of you back farther on the bed so he can rest his back against the headboard. Your mouths never leave the others, tongues and teeth clashing in the most desperate way. 

“Are you okay…with this?” Taehyung suddenly asks. His hair is a mess and his lips swollen and chapped.

“I don’t know how to answer that question anymore. I wish I just knew what to do…” You feel emotion start to take over and Taehyung grips your chin to look at him.

“It doesn’t matter. Not right now, okay? Right now I just want you to be mine. Because I’m yours…I belong to you.” He says it so simply. And it should be simple. It shouldn’t be possible to love them both.

He pulls you back to him, kissing you so gently it makes you shiver. One hand glides to the back of your head and settles in your hair while the other lifts your ass to hold you above his cock that was standing tall with need between your legs.

No more words need to be spoken as you position him at your entrance, your pussy slick and sticky from the build up to what’s about to happen. He takes his hand from your hip and brings it to your throbbing clit, using his thumb to stroke it slowly while you lower yourself onto him.

The stretch of him mixed with the way his thumb strokes you is as close to heaven as you can imagine. You can feel yourself getting wetter that more you try and accommodate his size.

“Be good for me, Pigeon. Ride my cock.” He moans the words around one of your nipples when he leans forward to capture one with his lips.

Once fully seated, you slowly move your hips in a circular motion, causing his engorged cock to hit places inside that make fireworks pop behind your eyelids and your head to fall back when your back arches.

“Fuck…you feel so good,” you finally manage to say.

“I could come right now just watching you take me like this, angel. Like you were made to have my cock inside you.” Taehyung groans as his hands find your hips and help you start to move up and down.

You find a mind numbing rhythm, and orgasm on the brink of breaking through. You’re so close it almost hurts. 

“I need to come, Tae…please.” You wrap your arms around his neck, sweaty chests sliding against the other.

“Me too. Fuck, I can’t wait to come inside you.” He holds you steady, digging his heels into the mattress and thrusting upwards to meet your movements.

A silent scream has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling to the back of your head when you finally get your release. Taehyung’s lips and tongue scorching the skin of your neck when he feels you clench around him.

“Good girl, Pigeon. Come all over my cock.” He holds you down, fully sheathing inside you when he finds his release as well. 

You slump against his chest, breathing hard as you start to come down for the incredible high he had just given you. 

Taehyung kisses your shoulder and up your neck, over your jaw and chin until he reaches your lips. Kissing your raw lips in the softest way.

“You okay?” You ask, still out of breath.

“Never better.” He smiles, moving sweaty hair from your face.

“I’ll get you some more water. Maybe snacks?” You move from his lap, the sudden empty feeling making you groan.

“Venom will be here soon. If he isn’t already.” His smile fades.

“I know. So let’s get you fed and hydrated before he makes his presence known, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Don’t be too long.” He holds your hand to help you off the bed while he readjusts against the headboard. You playfully roll your eyes, grabbing your t-shirt off the floor and quickly throwing it on before you slip out of your bedroom to the kitchen.

You fill up two more glasses of water and begin rummaging through your cabinets for any sort of edible snack when you hear tapping on the glass doors leading to your balcony. You nearly drop everything when you turn and see Jungkook standing there in his Spider-Man suit, his mask in his hand.

“Fuck.” You grumble, sitting down the snacks and water before going to unlock the door with pure fear coursing through your veins.

“Since when do you lock this door?” Jungkook asks as soon as you turn the lock.

“Just to be safe.” Your voice shakes and your eyes continuously flash towards the hallway where you know your bedroom door is wide open. Another man in your bed.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here in so long I just…” He pauses, a look you recognize crossing his face. He senses something.

Shit.

“Is everything okay?” You know the answer.

“He’s in here.” Jungkook immediately starts to push past you to look through your apartment.

“Who? What are you talking about Jungkook?” You try to grab his arm while he looks in your living room.

“The monster. I know that feeling anywhere. He’s here. What the fuck is he doing here?” You shove against his chest to stop him.

“There’s no monster here. I think you need to go.”

“What the fuck is going on, Data? Is someone else here?” His jaw ticks and your panic is starting to take over.

“I…um. Jungkook, please just listen.”

“Who? Who the fuck is it?” He pushes past you and you grab his arm to stop him before he freezes in place, looking at the doorway that leads to the hall.

Taehyung in all his shirtless glory stands leaning against the frame.

“Looking for me?” Taehyung smirks and you want to die.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jungkook practically seethes.

“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.” Taehyung takes a step towards you and Jungkook immediately blocks his path.

“You’re him? The monster from the lab?” Jungkook asks, moving into an even more protective stance.

“You don’t need to protect her from me.” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest and walks over to the counter where you left the water and snacks, picking up a glass and taking a few drinks. “I’d never hurt her.”

“You mean the way your monster left her bruised and bleeding by the docks? Fuck you.” Jungkook takes your hand and pulls you towards the balcony door. “I don’t know what you’re doing with him, Data, but he’s fucking dangerous. Let’s go.”

“Jungkook, please. You don’t understand.”

“Don’t fight me on this. I’m getting you out of here.”

“Since when do you care about ___? She may as well be alone when she’s with you.” Taehyung moves to stand in front of the doors.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I don’t drag you to Mr. Kim this fucking second.”

“Is that so, spider boy?” Taehyung smiles and grabs Jungkook’s shoulder to stop him from dragging you any farther.

Jungkook lets go of your wrist and pushes Taehyung in the chest. But before he can make any other moves, Venom’s black crawling skin swallows Taehyung and replaces him with the huge looking monster.

Venom roars, shaking your entire apartment. He’s so big he takes almost half the room.

“Get the hell out of here, Data!” Jungkook yells, slipping his mask back over his face.

You want to rip your hair from your head. Scream at the top of your lungs. Stomp on the floor like a two year old throwing a tantrum. 

But you deserve this after what you’ve been doing.

“Stop.” You say, watching Jungkook shoot a web at Venom’s sharp clawed hand. “Stop it!” You practically scream, making the both of them pause to look at you.

“Go outside, Creature.” Venom growls.

“You’re both going to listen to me. Right fucking now.” You walk across the kitchen and stand between them. “You’re not about to destroy my apartment with your pointless fighting. So listen to what I have to say.”

Jungkook stays in his defensive position but nods towards you for you to continue.

“You’re going to listen too, monster. Understand?”

“Bossy little creature.” He groans, ripping Jungkook’s web off of his hand and giving you his attention.

“I realized the other day that you all want the same thing. You want to shut down that lab and stop the testing they’re doing on humans. Venom wants to save his friends and go home and Jungkook, I know you want to save everyone trapped inside there. So why don’t we all work together to make it happen?” You release a long breath after everything spills out. “And after we do that…then we can talk about…us.” You motion between the three of you.

“Data…I didn’t know that I…” Jungkook starts to say but you stop him by holding up a hand.

“We aren’t doing this now, okay? Right now, we need to go see Jin.” 

“Ironman.” Venom growls in distaste.

“He can help. I know he’ll know how to get you and the other symbiotes home.” you try to reason. 

Venom contemplates for a moment before answering. “Fine, Creature. But if he messes with me, I eat him.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jungkook half laughs, taking off his mask as he approaches you. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. Now let’s go.” You walk out the balcony door and wait expectantly. “Well?” You tap your foot.

Jungkook and Venom stare at each other for a moment, silently telling the other that these conversations aren’t over but that they’re going to trust you on this.

Jungkook puts his mask back on once more and makes a beeline towards you, grabbing you around the waist and jumping off the balcony with you in his arms. Venom barks a laugh and quickly follows after.

And then you’re falling.

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies @sureconfused @boisenberry77@ts19009 @lorarri @looneybleus @joyouart @armyugh @kthsmoon @vminluvrs @ooooglymoooogly (i did my best with this, i may have missed people who asked)

series masterlist

[frudoo]

Mountain Man!Price save me… save me…

Warnings: SMUT. Unprotected PIV, creampie ofc y’all know me. Also mentions of guns + hunting deer. Fem!Reader.

MDNI

“You see that one there?” John’s voice is low but not quite a whisper, using his pinky finger to point out a huge buck a couple hundred yards away from where the two of you are planted on the ground.

“Yeah,” You reply softly, keeping a watchful eye on the creature as it takes a drink of water from the creek.

“That’s who we want. Get a dozen meals offa him, easy,” he responds, pulling back from the scope to look back at you with a grin. “Wanna give it a go?”

Your eyes widen and you laugh softly, shaking your head. When you agreed to join him on his hunt, you were under the impression that you’d be acting as moral support, not as an accessory to… deer murder. You’ll cook the meat all day long, but actually killing the poor thing is a far different story.

“Nope, all yours, sugar,” You huff, glancing back at the big buck who was now feasting on a berry bush.

“C’mon, love, ‘fore we miss him,” John insists, lifting his arm and beckoning you closer with a jerk of his head.

You sigh heavily, scrunching your face as the dangling strands on the sleeve of his ghillie suit tickle you. He readjusts the rifle until the heel rests on your shoulder, gently explaining how to rest your head until your eye meets the scope and you can see through it clearly. Suddenly, the tattoos on his biceps make a lot more sense—what you thought were nonsensical spheres and lines are actually a common perspective for your man.

“Yeah, perfect. Don’t let him outta your sight, I’m just gonna…” John trails off, carefully bringing his arm back down and climbing partially on top of you. “Sorry, darlin’, it’s easier for me to show you this way.”

He positions your hand around the grip and your pointer finger on the trigger, then switches off the safety. Once he’s ensured that everything is properly structured, John rests his chin on your shoulder opposite of where the gun is. Your breath hitches in your throat as you try your hardest to keep your attention on the deer, but it’s hard when your husband’s hot breath is blowing against your face and his weight is pressing into you from above.

You try to get back in the zone by adjusting your body, but only succeed in pushing your ass back against his crotch. The low groan that emits from his throat makes you whimper and repeat the action, earning yourself a tut into your ear.

“Focus, baby, or we don’t eat for the next week,” John warns through gritted teeth, desperately holding himself back from grinding up against you.

Biting your lip, you allow your eye to focus on the deer once again, watching him strut to the next bush covered in vibrant red berries. The buck chomps down on a cluster of fruit gracefully, chewing slowly, unaware of the bullet you plan to shoot right into his heart. You suck in a deep breath, slowly start to press down on the trigger, but before you get the chance to fire, a pair of familiar lips attach to your neck hungrily. Your fingers clench out of instinct and the rifle goes off, but instead of hitting its target it buries itself somewhere in the dirt while the buck sprints away to safety.

Gasping, you drop the gun and push it away from you, turning your head back to look at John with furrowed eyebrows. His face is flushed beneath the streaks of green and black paint he had you smear across his skin, eyes wild with the telltale glint of lust.

“John, I had him! Why-”

“Fuck the deer,” He growls, no longer attempting to push down his desires and instead covering your body entirely with his own. “Got my own pretty, wide-eyed doe right here.”

John grasps your throat and tilts your head back so that his mouth can hastily smash against yours. His tongue shoves its way past your lips, tasting your shock, devouring the unspoken questions that dissolved before they got the chance to slip out. You don’t hesitate to kiss back, eyelids falling shut as his big hands glide between your body and the dewy grass to fumble with your cargos. The button snaps a little harsher than it should and you already know you’re gonna need to sew a new one on when you get back to the cabin.

“Fuck, your cunt’s already so damn wet,” John exhales heavily as he pulls your pants and knickers down just past your hips, exposing your ass and the glistening slick that’s collected between your thighs. “My cock’s just gonna slip right in.”

You whine at that, arching your back in invitation. John hisses and smacks one of your asscheeks hard enough to sting his palm. He chuckles at the little squeal you let out before sitting up on his knees and shoving down the pants of his ghillie suit just enough to expose his dick. It’s already throbbing, fully erect and dripping pearls of precum onto your raw skin. He glides the engorged tip through your warm folds before sliding home in one deep thrust.

The two of you shudder in sync as he bottoms out, hitting the barrier of your cervix with a blissful, dull pinch. John wraps one arm around your neck, allowing you to rest your head on his bicep as he holds himself up with his opposite elbow.

“Fuckin’ deep, ain’t it?” He grunts, punctuating each word with a strong pump of his hips.

“So deep,” you confirm with a gurgle, cheeks completely squashed between the fat and muscle of his bicep and forearm. “Feels so good, John.”

“I know it does, my sweet doe.”

Every thrust is devastating, the veins and ridges of his fat cock rubbing perfectly against the sensitive walls of your tight pussy. Raspy groans fall from his lips and echo into your ear as he nibbles on the lobe, the sound of skin on skin ricocheting throughout the busy woods along with your pretty moans. The head of his dick punches against that rough spot that makes you scream, and he chuckles, angling his hips so that he can make you see stars over and over again.

“That’s right, love, scream for me. Let the fuckin’ mockingbirds hear you, so every single soul that comes through here knows how pretty you sound when I make you cum. Yeah, just like that, baby, sing for me, sing for the birds.”

His words encourage you to obey, your cunt clamping down on him like it’s trying to keep his cock inside permanently. Rivulets of slick cream cling to every inch of his dick as he buries his face in your neck, uncaring of how the strands of his ghillie suit brush against your skin, overwhelming your senses. With a final thrust, he pushes himself deep and releases his potent load into your willing womb, spurts of his seed painting your walls an off-white.

Once the two of you have calmed down, breathing evening out, John gently pulls out and shimmies your panties and cargos back up your hips, effectively keeping his cum contained. He moves from on top of you and stands, pulling his own pants up and tucking away his spent cock, then throws the rifle over his back. You’re utterly useless, laying on the grass and mumbling something incoherent. Your lover just chuckles and scoops you up into his arms, carrying you back to the cabin, safe, warm and definitely planning to have leftover soup for dinner once again.

(When he returns to the woods the next day for a successful hunt without your distracting presence, he hears an awfully familiar call from a certain bird in one of the trees.)

[evie-sturns]

toddler - Matt Sturniolo

summary: having 2 toddlers isn't the easiest, espically when you're currently pissed at your husband matt after an argument. one night you get pushed to the point of a breakdown when the kids won't behave and matt's there to help you.

contains: dad!matt, fluff, slightly suggestive , crying, slight mental breakdown, comforting, angst?

a/n: this was loosely based off of how daddy matt was in today's vid.

----———--------------..••°°°°••..------------————

7:38pm

matt and i had an argument last night leaving me in tears, he’s been in his bedroom this whole day leaving me to deal with our two twins which are both 3 and a half.

i attempt to cook up something that somewhat resembles a dinner for our girls but the only thing occupying my mind is the events of what happened last night.

yesterday

“why is this house always so fucking messy!” matt’s voice booms throughout the living room as he abruptly stands up

“shit, i don’t know maybe because you got me pregnant at 18 and i’m the only one who does anything for the kids our this house!” i raise my voice back at him

matt lets out a shocked laugh “sorry that some people have fucking jobs and don’t lay on their ass with the kids all day and call it tiring?”

“lay on my ass? i clean, i cook, i take the girls to daycare and i bring them home, i do everything”

“if everything includes not having a fucking job and using up my money that i earn then sure, you do a whole lot” matt says with a slight attitude.

“all you fucking do is act like you have it hard when you don’t! get a fucking grip” he yells

the whole room goes silent, i erupt into tears and walk out of the room to our spare bedroom

“and always fucking crying.” i hear him scoff, only making my state worse.

—

my thoughts are cut off by a wail coming from behind me, my head spins back to see millie with a fistful of claire’s hair, yanking.

i instantly drop the wooden spoon into the pot before speed walking towards the twins

“stop it!” i yell, grabbing millie from under her arms and staring into her eyes angrily “go find daddy, not acceptable millie.” i raise my voice, placing her down.

she folds her arms with a huff, stomping her little legs down the corridor to matt and i’s shared room.

“you’re okay claire” i coo, fixing her pigtail which sits on the very top of her head

i pick her up and place her down on the couch with one of her stuffed animals before making my way back towards the kitchen.

i turn down the heat on the stovetop slightly with an exhausted sigh

suddenly i hear small giggles coming from behind me followed by the backs of my knees being pushed

“fuck!” i yell, stumbling over and grabbing the handle to the pot, spilling boiling spaghetti onto the floor, also splashing up onto my sweater.

millie goes silent before sprinting in the other direction with claire

as of things couldn’t get any worse right now i hear matt’s voice start something

“what are you actually fucking doin-“ he cuts himself off when he sees the state i’m in

i burst into sobs, matt looks down at me with concern painted across his face

“hey- shh sh you’re okay, you’re okay.” he says frantically, walking over to me and kneeling on the floor

“matt i can’t do this the kids aren’t behaving and i can’t fucking make them something they’ll like-“ i start, saying in between shaking breaths

he carefully picks me up from under my arms before switching his grip to the back of my thighs, i bury my face into his shoulders and feel matt take in panicked breaths

he speed walks us down into our bedroom at the end of the corridor, “are you hurt sweetheart?” he says, placing me down on the bed and peeling my sweatshirt off of me

“did the hot water soak through? shit.” matt says trying to stay calm.

“no-“ i sniff, rubbing my eyes. matt yanks his sweatshirt off his body and lays it across me like a blanket.

“stay right here okay? i’m gonna sort the kids out then put them to bed, then i’ll come back to talk, try get some sleep for me gorgeous.”

matt presses a kiss to my nose before rushing out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

i have a clear view of kitchen from where i’m laying so i see matt walk into the kitchen before kneeling down

“c’mere.” he demands, sticking out his arms. millie and claire toddle over to him with a guilty expression across their face.

“tell me what’s happened.” matt says sternly, maintaining eye contact with both of them.

millie bursts into tears almost immediately as she looks at matt

matt runs his hand up and down her arm as he waits for a response

“we- we pushed mommy and she fell and spilt hot water on her and hurt her” she sniffs

“a-and.. and you’re mad at me” she continues.

“do i look mad sweetheart?” matt says softly, claire shrugs along with millie

“i’m really really sad that you weren’t behaving for mommy, and i know you know better than that right?” matt speaks

millie nods, wiping her nose with the backs of her hand

“and now i’m gonna ask you to go clean up the spill with claire and then we’re gonna go say sorry to mom okay?” he says gently, pressing two kisses to the girls forehead

they nod in unison before going into the kitchen, matt hands them the paper towels and they instantly drop down to there knees and attempt to clean the mess.

matt watches while biting his nails “why do you think you made mommy cry though?” he says, claire looks up at him with a heaped pile of paper towels in her hands

“because we were naughty.” claire sighs, matt nods while gathering the piles of drenched paper towels and throwing them away.

“what i’m ‘gonna ask you to do is sit down at the kitchen table and think about how you will say sorry to mommy tomorrow while i make you dinner okay girls?”

claire and millie run over to the dining table, more than hungry and tired now.

matt sorts through the pantry before settling on mac and cheese which i wasn’t even sure we had.

after a good 10 minutes matt brings over the two small bowls to the twins, who have been silent ever since they sat down.

“you have to eat all of this okay?” matt says while placing the bowls down. claire and millie nod

—-

8:56pm

matt finishes up the last dishes in the sink before walking over to the girls “you alright?” he asks softy before picking both of them up, one in each arm.

matt walks down the corridor, flashing me a quick smile as both the girls bury their head in his shoulders.

“they’re very tired” he mouths to me with a small laugh while walking into their shared bedroom.

i hear the door shut followed by matt walking into our bedroom. “you feeing better gorgeous?” he asks calmly as he flops down in bed beside me.

“thank you for doing that.” i sigh, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“don’t thank me? i’m their dad and i realise that after yesterday’s.. argument that you’re right and i do need to start caring more.” matt looks over at me.

“you don’t have to just say that” i whisper

“i’m not just saying that, i actually mean it.” matt responds with an unreadable expression

“the shit you said last night..” i start, my voice wobbling “i’m gonna find it hard to forget, because i know that in that moment you meant it.”

matt goes silent,

“and i know that you’re busy but i try, so hard to make you and the girls happy, meaning that i don’t have free time to work because everything i do is for you?” i keep going, several tears now rolling down my cheeks

“so you saying that you should help our more around the house and pretending like everything’s perfect between us isn’t gonna fix shit.”

i physically can’t keep speaking unless i want to start sobbing so i stop, taking in a shaky breath.

matt doesn’t say anything back, instead sitting up and grabbing me and pulling me into a deathly tight hug.

the few tears that fell dampen the shoulder of his shirt as he rubs my back.

“i don’t even know how to apologise.” matt says, his voice trembling.

“please- don’t cry.” he whispers, “i’m just really tired” i squeeze out

“i know i’ve been a shit.. person for the past year or so and trust me, you and the girls are on my mind every single minute of every day and- and there’s no excuse for what i said yesterday except for the fact i wasn’t thinking straight.”

matt rambles

“i shouldn’t have yelled, or said anything. i know, i know you have it way harder than me, and i’m not just saying that it’s true.”

“you don’t have to forgive me at all today, tomorrow or in general for this but i love you and i’m so sorry.”

matt finishes by pulling away to look at my face, which he cups in both his hands.

“thank you.” is the only thing i reply with, somewhat shocked by that 2 minute long tangent.

matt lays back down on the matress, pulling me towards him. i lay my head down on his chest with a deep breath in, instantly falling asleep

————

9:56am the next day

the morning sun burns into the side of my face as i roll over in bed,

my eyebrows knit together when i realise matt’s not next to me like normal.

i sit up in bed, wiping my eyes as i attempt to run my fingers through my tangled hair.

i stumble out of bed towards the door of our bedroom, gripping the handle lazily and swinging it open.

the whole house is perfectly clean “what the fuck..” i mumble to myself as i walk into the living room where my eyes lay on my favourite sight

my 3 favourite people, matt claire and millie are sat on the sofa, matt’s in the middle and the girls are cuddled up to his side while matt holds open a picture book which he stops reading when i walk in.

“good morning pretty” matt smiles stupidly, i grow a small smile on my face.

“i think that someone has something to say to mom?” matt says, looking down at each of the girls.

they run up to me and wrap their arms around each of my legs “were really sorry” claire says, i bend down to their height and give them a smile

millie follows up with a “and i’m sorry for hurting you a- and i love you a lot!” she says with a cute smile.

“it’s okay sweetheart, i love you.” i grin, wrapping my arms around them before standing back up.

“and i’m gonna make it up to you tonight” matt says quietly while walking over to me

“matthew bernard! you horny mother fucker” i whisper.

————

@luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @recklessmatt @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209

[crookedteethed]

BIG SHOT polaroid | e.m.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem reader

Summary: In which you and Eddie have a picture book where you both store your sex pics. <3 💕

Warnings: 18+ Cursing, a little Smut (p in v), Oral (fem receiving), Praise kink, body worship(?), pet names, nudes

Word count: 1k

If you pushed past the mounds of dirty laundry intertwined with disposed candy bar wrappers and a few empty shoe boxes, underneath Eddie Munson's bed lies the picture book. 

The picture book was your idea, but the pictures themselves were all Eddie's perverted idea. 

"Lemme take a picture of you, yeah?" Eddie said, taking a break from his delicious never-ending assault on your clit. Your juices dripped down his chin, some droplets stringing the tips of his hair, his lips all red and puffy covered in slick, and his eyes a little crazed and tinted in admiration. 

He kissed the supple plush of your thigh in a diagonal line; your hands stayed grazing his curls, body supine on the foam of Eddie's mattress. Eddie's lips make love to your thighs, to your tummy, from your breast to your neck, and eventually to your lips; where'd you gotten to taste yourself for the first time.

Eddie quotes Shakespeare. "Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry. Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie." He says, glossy lips forming a smile.

"Lemme get a picture of you.” He asks again. “I want to savor my pretty girl in this moment," he says with that boyish smile and those adoring chocolate eyes.

Fuck, those eyes. Even if you were thinking of saying 'no' to Eddie, you simply couldn't. It was the way Eddie's eyes gazed at you every time you made contact. It was as if he was put into a dreamlike trance.

If Eddie had been a cartoon, his eyes and pupils would have turned heart-shaped.

You agreed to the picture, but just one.

Eddie sprung up from the bed, his naked pale body sprinting around the smallish trailer.

You hear a few thuds and ruffling coming from the next room. You imagine Eddie tearing his home apart to find his Polaroid camera.

When Eddie comes back, he returns holding a big-shot Polaroid. He says it was his mother's. He and Wayne don't use it often, so there should be enough film on it.

You try to sit up as Eddie crawls onto the bed, but he lightly pushes you back down, telling you you shouldn't have to move a finger, lie back, and be his muse.

You felt an uneasiness plummet in your stomach as you felt the cold lens of Eddie's mother polaroid aimed at your cunt; it was similar to the feeling you get when your doctor has to check beneath your folds for any signs of ovarian cysts or cancers at your yearly checkups.

And though Eddie had seen your bare cunt a multitude of times (just like your doctor), this particular time made your body shutter. Just as Eddie goes to snap the picture, he notices your sudden twitchiness.

"Hey," he says, palming the plum of your cheek. He lightly pecks your lips. "You trust me, right?"

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip; of course, you trusted Eddie.

"Good." He nearly mumbles, eyes fixated on your glistening folds.

Eddie resume.

The Polaroid covers half of Eddie's face. With his right eye peeking through the eyepiece and his left eye squeezed tightly, Eddie aims the lens close to your cunt.

He places his thumb onto one of your folds and pulls back on the skin, snapping the picture in one snap. Seconds later, the blackened photo ejects from underneath the film shield.

With a few anticipated shakes from Eddie, the photo started to fade in, and you and Eddie stared at it with wide bug eyes and gaping mouths.

It wasn't the fact that Eddie could date back to this photo and jack off to it later that turned him on. Eddie was turned on because you let him do it; it turned him on even more that you trusted him to do it.

It turned you on because there was something obscure about seeing another aspect of your body, other than your face, on a Polaroid picture. In a way, you felt like you were Eddie's personal playboy bunny.

"Can I take another one?" Eddie asked in a daze, just as you went to ask him to take another, and then another, and then another, until you eventually ran out of film.

Taking pictures of you and Eddie's naked bodies would become almost like an addiction to both of you.

It became a ritualistic practice for you two before sex, grabbing the Polaroid (which now rested on Eddie's bedside table, along with packs of film) and taking turns snapping pictures of one another mid fuck.

Eddie would take the Polaroid from you and snap a picture of his cock plunging into your tight wet cunt; once he has his picture, then you'll take the Polaroid and snap a photo of your foot pressed against his pelvis, just above his happy trail. The cycle would go on and on until you were both covered in Polaroid pictures and cum.

It gets to a point where Eddie's bedside dresser, the current home for your photos, gets filled up, and you both have to resort to putting your photos in a picture book.

Making the picture book would be fun for both of you. You would sit on the trailer's living room floor, surrounded by glue, glitter, and markers; it's like a little arts and crafts project.

It'd be nostalgic for you and Eddie to return to your first photos all those months ago until now.

Eddie gets that gooey mushy feeling, getting wrapped up in the trust and intimacy of the photos--love, he thinks the feeling is called-- watching you watch a picture of yourself with a mouthful of his cock, and scrapbooking secret photos preserved for just his and your eyes only.

Eddie wants to tell you he loves you but doesn't yet; now isn't the right time. So he runs to his room, returning with his mother's big-shot Polaroid camera, and takes a snapshot of you.

[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a bit from a fic I'm not sure I'll ever start writing. for context, this is Corroded Coffin's first tour and they brought Steve along (bc Eddie would never even imagine having it any other way)

Jeff and Eddie are walking towards the green room discussing the way their melodies turned out at tonight's show, when Gareth catches up to them, a little winded,

"Hey," he pants, "Freak says he wants to try that tacos place we saw on our way into town, you guys up for it?"

Jeff simply nods and Eddie shrugs, "Sounds good" he answers,

Gareth claps them in the back and says to Eddie "Awesome, I'll go ask your wife",

He goes to skip ahead between them but Eddie grabs him by the scruff of his tshirt and yanks him back, causing his head to slap itself against Eddie's waiting palm.

Jeff snorts but Gareth isn't amused.

"OW dude! What the fuck?!" he demands with wide eyes. Eddie doesn't buy it for a second, launches into the same warning he always gives them,

"I told you! if he hears you saying that he could get really pissed, and then you'll get me into serious trouble!" he still has Gareth by the scruff, so he yanks him again for emphasis,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble, man?" Gareth shakes his head, Eddie yanks again,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble because of you?" Gareth frantically shakes his head but holds his palms up as he weasels out of Eddie's hold, half-laughing as he turns to face them and walking backwards as they advance,

"I do NOT say it around him!" Gareth defends, Jeff scoffs beside Eddie and Eddie just narrows his eyes,

"Plus, I told you that he's into you, man!" Gareth continues, Eddie rolls his eyes at that so he can't see the significant look Jeff gives him, agreeing with Gareth.

"This again" Eddie groans, "you're delusional. Just stop calling him that altogether and we'll be good," he insists.

Gareth just sighs "Fine. Can you go ask your very platonic friend, that you share a bed with every night, if he wants tacos? Or should we not even ask his opinion?"

Eddie flicks his ear and Gareth frowns dangerously, meeting the end of his rope.

Jeff says "Okay-" and holds his hands up placatingly, but Eddie doesn't like his chances so he sprints down the hall laughing and Gareth takes off hot in his heels.

Jeff groans as Freak catches up with him,

"Children." Freak states, tutting.

---

When Steve comes back to the green room he finds Eddie and Gareth wrestling on the floor.

"Um-" he starts and Eddie, who had been making Gareth slap himself turns excitedly to him,

"Stevie!! What did you think?" he asks, wanting to get Steve's opinion on tonight's show, and probably very specifically, the melodies he and Jeff had been working on for weeks now.

Steve's lucky that Gareth pulls on his hair and distracts him by slamming him on the floor, otherwise Eddie would have totally noticed him blushing.

He'll never get over Eddie wanting his input, especially when it comes to something as important to him as his music, his band.

"OW!" Eddie shouts as Gareth pulls his hair again, reaching to pull on Gareth's nose.

That brings Steve back. He ceremoniously places his hands on his hips, and calls "Children!",

It startles Eddie into slapping Gareth's arm away particularly hard and Steve hears muttered apologies as the two of them sit up criss-cross side by side.

"He started it!" Eddie accuses, playing along with Steve's babysitter bit, "He said we shouldn't ask your opinion on dinner," Gareth gasps indignantly and tackles him again.

Steve just sighs, used to them buzzing with energy after shows.

He hears Jeff and Freak enter the room and turns to them as if they had been there all along, "Dinner from where?" he asks them,

Freak looks up from the boys wrestling and says "Remember that tacos place we saw on our way in? last Thursday?"

Steve's expression clears with understanding, he nods "Oh yeah! Yeah, that place! Okay. Sounds good." Freak nods and goes to their clothes rack.

"Soon as these two finish," Jeff comments.

Gareth has Eddie in a chokehold now and Eddie is trying to lick his arm while also pulling on Gareth's hair.

"I should record you and put it up on the internet," Steve threatens.

Jeff joins in "It'd humiliate our lead man, but it's a risk I'm willing to take" he claps his approval on Steve's back and goes to the clothes rack as Freak goes to change his outfit.

Eddie taps twice on Gareth's arm to be released and Gareth raises both arms above his head triumphantly.

Eddie points a finger at Steve, then Jeff and says "I'm vetoing that!"

Steve frowns. "I didn't know you had vetoing rights" he teases, tilting his head.

"He doesn't" Jeff and Gareth answer in unison,

"You just said I'm the lead man!" Eddie whines to Jeff,

"I was talking about Gareth" Jeff shrugs.

Gareth puffs out his chest and Eddie shoves him, knocking him on his ass again.

Steve can't help but chuckle at them. Eddie turns to look at him with mirth in his eyes then, extends his arms to be helped up.

Steve pulls him to his feet with his heart in his throat.

"So?" Eddie asks,

"What?" Steve asks quietly,

"What'd you think?" Eddie asks again, quiet too like it's their secret, giving his arm a little impatient tap, reminding him he hadn't answered before.

Steve doesn't remember when he started smiling so big "It was good." he tells him, just as quietly, having created a little bubble for the two of them without meaning to, but not wanting to burst it.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, the corners of his mouth twitching up,

"Mmhm," Steve confirms, starts fiddling with one of Eddie's many chains, "I think the change you made yesterday was smart, the crowd was definitely wilder tonight" he comments,

"Well, that was Jeff, 'member?"

"Hmmm" Steve hums, letting go of the chain and leaning his elbow on Eddie's shoulder to turn to Jeff,

"Well that was a very smart change Jeff!" he calls loudly, enjoying Eddie's flinch. He has to clear his throat because his voice comes out raspy for some reason.

----

Jeff frowns, confused.

"The new arrengement from yesterday," Eddie clarifies, eyes on Steve. Jeff ignores him, but takes the clarification all the same,

"Oh! thanks! Man, did you see the crowd tonight?" Jeff marvels,

Steve says "That's what I was just telling Eddie!" and they launch into specifics that Eddie misses.

He's thinking he usually doesn't like being teased but his cheeks are burning and he can't feel anything other than a pleasant warmth right now, Steve Harrington broke him.

He shakes his head and comes back to reality just in time to see Steve turn to him and say, "You did great tonight, Eds. You were super comfortable using the space on stage tonight, people loved it,"

Eddie doesn't say he was only comfortable because he had a clear view of Steve in the crowd.

"Thank you Stevie" he tells him instead. Steve smiles brightly at him. It makes Eddie want to rub his face on Steve's shoulder.

He pinches Steve's waist instead, gets all up in his space, still buzzing with energy from running around on stage.

"Help me pick something out for tacos?" he requests, hopeful. He loves the idea of Steve thinking about what would look best on him.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, grabbing the hand that pinched him and leading Eddie to the rack.

Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie as they walk past him and Eddie flips him the bird.

[untoldstar]

Yandere bully x gn reader headcanons

warnings: yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, mentions of bullying but no direct explicit scenes or descriptions of it, stalking

yandere bully who doesn't give you a break, as soon as you step foot into the school building he's already up in your face making sure you start your day terribly

yandere bully who makes it his top priority to somehow take up all of the space in your life, Wherever you go he's there with an evil glint in his eyes, whoever you're talking to sprints away when they see him headed in your direction, you start to actually become paranoid, yes he wants you to be miserable but there's something so..wrong with the way he's always around you.

surely even he has other things to do?

yandere bully who steps proudly in the school hallways with a smirk plastered on his face, people passing by cowering slightly but he pays no attention to these people his eyes are eagerly scanning the halls for you, his tipped smile falters slightly when he doesn't see your figure near your locker or roaming in the halls.

yandere bully who shakes off this uncomfortable feeling and decides to carry on with his day, he was sure you were just avoiding him, he doesn't mind.

he likes a good chase

he starts to get irritated when he doesn't see you for the rest of the day, did you seriously not come at all? he was definitely gonna make you pay for that

days go by and you still don't show and now he's starting to get nervous, were you sick? he doesn't recall you showing any symptoms but why else would you be gone for that long?

a week goes by and he snaps. he charges to your class his eyes set on Jackson, a classmate he's seen you talk to frequently.

he slams his hands on the desk startling the boy sitting and earning a few worried glances from the others in the class. The boy looks up already cowering slightly "um..do you nee- hey- wait!" he grabs Jackson from his collar lifting him up from his seat "alright spill. y/n hasn't been here for a week where are they?" he glowers at him watching the boys expression go from terrified to confused "y/n? you mean you don't know?" he grips his shirt tighter and jerks him forward earning him a yelp "know what?" Jackson swallows before answering "y/n moved schools a week ago..b-before you ask I don't know which school!" he stays quiet for a few seconds as the new information dawns on him, he lets go of the boy's collar abruptly and speeds out of the classroom.

moved schools? what the fuck is all that about?

he's filled with anger at this, in his words, stunt you pulled but his anger twists into discomfort when he realises he won't see you every day anymore.

yandere bully who threatens almost every student in your school, talks to every teacher he even goes to all the places you frequent outside of school but you never showed, did you move to a different city or something?

yandere bully who finally finds a lead to where you are and wastes no time in tracking you down and showing up to the school itself, waiting by the doors for you, his heart jumping with excitement when he sees your figure walking, phone in hand still unaware of his presence.

yandere bully who finally feels like he's found some sort of relief since the day you moved when you lift your head up and lock eyes with him.

he smiles and starts to head in your direction, you step back slightly turning on you heel to walk when he grabs your wrist stepping closer and inching down next to your ear.

"found you.."

[ceilidho]

ceilid. oil rig soap i am foaming at the mouth omg

he's covered in an ever present layer of grease and grime, stinking of sweat and rust. comes off as a cocky showboat when you first arrive on the rig, jokes about wanting to see you all messed up like the rest of 'em, but his jokes are barbed, electric blue eyes looking you up and down like he really can't stand how clean and neat you are compared to the men on board. like he wants to tear your ironed skirt down so he can drag his dirty paws all over your ass and thighs.

you honestly write him off; hard to see the laid back charmer as a genuine threat or even someone to go running to should something bad happen to you, but then everything on the rig goes to shit. something violent and hungry comes out of the water and you can hear the blood curdling screams from the men it catches as you sprint down the landing, the helicopter already starting to take off even as you yell for them to wait.

but then a man twice your size is suddenly pulling you into the shadows, covering your mouth and shushing you as the thing that came aboard the ship suddenly passes (and you think, wildly, that it would've been on you by now had soap not dragged you out of the way) and you watch in horror as it obliterates the chopper, the body of the chopper bursting into flames and going into a tailspin, crashing into the ocean below.

"keep the heid, bonnie," murmured into your ear, the hand around your mouth pressing harder and muffling your screams as he pulls you deeper into the rig, trying to find a place to hide, his arms like steel bands around you. "willnae let anything bad happen to ye."

[ghostsangel]

Heyyy:))

I would love to request some Protective Simon fluff like where he returns home from a mission and sees his wife getting bothered in front of there home ?

(With a soft feminine reader and a broody angry simon)

i love protective simon so much omfg but also i feel like this sucks so im sorry

tags/warnings: super annoyed and angry simon, threats, fluff

Simon doesn’t have time for this shit.

His mission lasted longer than he assumed, every little thing was pissing him off, and the entire time he couldn’t stop thinking about his girl.

You, with your soft eyes and skin, running your pretty pink nails down his back. You, your hair shiny and smooth, perfect for him to twist his fingers into. You, with your melodic voice and your whispered compliments that make his tummy flip and a blush creep up his neck.

The bus drops him off at the corner of the street you two live off, and he slings his military bag over his shoulder as he walks the short distance to your shared house. He hums to himself—he’s happy, in a good mood ready to spoil his girl with kisses and lovin’.

As he approaches the house, however, he’s not too happy with what he sees.

A man standing at the foot of the driveway, yellin’ and hollerin’ at his woman. You’re standing near the porch, and Simon has to stop himself from smiling when he sees the way your pretty yellow dress hangs around your thighs. Your face is flushed and you’re nervously fiddling with your fingers.

His eyes flit back to the man, and he narrows them as he approaches. He doesn’t really care what the man is saying—he’s on Simon’s property bothering his woman.

“Hey,” Simon grunts, causing the man to turn and look at him. He’s still wearing his mask and baclava, and he tilts his head as he looks at the stranger. “What are you doin’ here?”

“Just speaking to the pretty lady is all,” the stranger says, winking at you.

Simon sees red, his eyes flitting to you. You shake your head, your eyes brimmed with tears. “He catcalled me, Si.”

Simon exhales before dropping his military bag with a thud, taking the two steps to close the distance between him and the stranger before punching him in the face. The man yelps as he falls, hand clutching his bloody nose.

Simon yanks him up from the ground, gripping his shirt in his fist. “That’s my girl. Mine. You made her uncomfortable. Get the fuck out of here before I rip your dick off and stuff it down your throat.” His voice is low and dangerous, goosebumps rising to your skin as you hear it.

The stranger scrambles away, turning on his heel and sprinting the opposite direction. Simon grumbles under his breath as he picks his bag up and walks over to you. He picks you up with one hand, slinging you over his shoulder and carrying you inside.

Once the door is shut, he sets his bag down and goes to the couch, lowering you onto his lap. His large hands cup your face, eyes scanning you for any injury. “You okay, love?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his large torso and burying your face in his chest. “Mhm. Just uncomfortable. Didn’t like being catcalled like a piece of meat.”

Simon plants a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his thick arms around you. “He won’t be botherin’ ya anymore, lovie. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

You lift your head and smile at him, pressing a kiss to his lips. “What would I do without you, Simon Riley?”

He raises his brows, grinning at you. “Dunno, love. Crash and burn?”

You giggle and hit his chest, which causes him to laugh and squeeze you tighter. The smile on your face relaxes him, and he feels at ease knowing his girl is safe.

[occamstfs]

Marichismo

Allen, a smug engineering student, finds himself seeking shelter from the storm in a museum for Latin American art. By the time it clears up it's safe to say he'll have a more than healthy appreciation for the arts.

Might've gotten away from me a tad but I think it turned out quite well! Latino Race and Cultural change, MG and language change ahead. Also a couple more people have hopped onto my Challenge since I last mentioned it! Otherwise, espero que disfrutes! -Occam

Allen was on a side of the campus he’s never quite made it a point to explore. In undergrad and in his Masters of Engineering program so far there has simply never been a need for him to venture too far from the engineering building or the architecture library. That is until his partner on a superfluous project requested he venture into the no man’s land that holds the campus’ main library, one that runs absolutely rampant with students he sees as far beneath him.

Even worse than simply venturing beyond his comfort zone, as soon as the pair have wrapped up their progress for the day, heading off on their less than merry ways, it begins to rain. As the first raindrops begin to fall, Allen scoffs at himself for being anything less than optimally prepared. Before he’s able to reflect too deeply, the snobbish student clenches his tech-filled book bag to his chest and sprints into the nearest building, apathetic to whatever space he noisily barges into.

Before his eyes can adjust to the dim light of the new space he finds himself in, Allen hears a crack of thunder as the heavens open up behind him. Sighing in relief at successfully staying dry, Allen keeps his guard up, eying the lobby of whatever building this is that he’s never deigned to step into before now. He grimaces as he finds himself in an art museum. He does not like art museums. It’s not so much that Allen sees himself as above fine art, it’s- well no it is that. Immediately, he begins scanning the lobby for a power outlet so he may continue working while he waits out the downpour.

Head shoved under a lobby bench Allen ignores a caution sign as he forces his charger in, causing an inevitable shock that forces out a less than respectful expletive in this place of introspection. He eyes the empty room around him, slightly grinning at just how barren the lobby is. Clearly he’s not the only one apathetic to this nonsense. Shaking his hand to reawaken its nerves, he hears the clicking of footsteps against the gallery floor as a small woman walks around the corner carrying a stack of books that block her view. Allen eyes a handful of escape routes to hide from the older woman before lightning strikes once more and she trips over in shock, dropping her small stack of books, “¡Dios Mio!”

Judgemental asshole Allen may be but heartless he is not. Setting down his bag with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, the student walks over to help the older woman gather herself. Barely avoiding reflexively chiding his elder as he offers her a hand, he helps her up. The attendant pushes a large pair of glasses up her nose and squints at him with a kind smile, “Ah! Gracias, gracias mijo.” She pulls herself up on Allen’s hand and he cringes back as some kind of aftershock of static goes up his arm. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to affect her. Dusting herself off, she does a double take at Allen and adjusts her glasses, “¿Qué te trae aqui hoy, mijo? (What brings you in today dear?)

Allen hesitates, blowing air as he tries to understand why this woman thinks he knows spanish. Scratching the back of his head he finally looks to see the text blazoned across the front desk, El Gustavo Ramirez Museo De Arte Latinoamericano. Putting two and two together as he is ever so proud of doing, Allen immediately apologizes for intruding. “So sorry uh, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to wander into your, uh, space.” gesturing to the woman and the building around him in a manner to distinguish it not so much as beneath him but as an other. Something that is simply a bridge too far for him to gap. “This place isn’t for me so I think I’ll go ahead and step out.” Thunder peels before he can start to gather his things, immediately reminding him why he is in here at all. 

The older woman also relents, switching to English since, despite some instinct saying otherwise, the man before her clearly speaks only english. “Ah don’t you worry yourself mijo. The museum is for all, para todos. Free with your student ID,” she tacks on with a wink. Allen smiles uncomfortably, baring teeth enough that it could be mistaken as a grimace. 

He can’t just tell this old lady that he hasn’t a thought to spare, in his mind: waste, on the collections behind her. Still he doesn’t want to make conversation indefinitely waiting for the storm to clear either. Fearful of the outlet he’s used thus far he convinces himself there must be one hiding somewhere in the exhibition hall. He’ll just pacify her with entry and go find some place in between ostentatious paintings and droll statues to insert himself and get some actual work done.

Producing his ID wordlessly, he hands it to the elderly woman and she quickly shuffles behind her desk to type his name into some registry. Handing it back with a smile she leaves her hand hanging for a shake, “Wonderful to meet you Allan! Soy Lupe Carvajal. But you can call me abuelita, mijo!” Pocketing his ID with a dismissive laugh he notices not that his name is apparently misspelled on his ID card, instead he packs his charger up and shakes Lupe’s hand. “Hah. Uhm, whatever you say Mrs. Carvajal.” Her hand is wrinkled and frail but surprisingly warm, as if his hand were receiving the full body experience of a hug in but a single shake. 

“You know Allan, I must have thought you know spanish because you look quite like my nieto, my grandson.” Allan puffs his cheeks to bite his tongue, holding a picture in his mind of what this granny’s descendants must look like and knowing there’s simply no permutation that lands at himself. She continues, “Es un joven fuerte! Haha!” She does a little bicep pose which allows Allan to understand exactly what she means without her translating. He shyly smiles looking down at his own thin arms and wondering why this lady seems to be mocking him. After doing her bit, Lupe moves to sit at the desk and pulls a book off her stack, “You just let me know if you need anything mijo, si?” Allan nods and reflexively responds, “Si ab- Mrs. Carvajal.”

Odd taste in his mouth at almost calling this random woman grandmas she asked, he shakes it off and wanders into the exhibit hall, decidedly less worried about using her museum’s resources to his own ends. It has probably been over a decade since anyone was able to drag him into an art museum. Even then was he vehemently against wasting his time visiting. He just didn’t get art, and not for not trying. It’s just, aggravating that some people can get so much from some splotches of paint and he just sees a picture on some paper. Feeling himself get riled up he turns to the exhibit hoping for some distraction, which he finds in an elaborate statue of some dog. himself. 

Allan stands beside a huichol coyote covered in beads about two feet high. Spotlighted in the dim gallery he circles it like a predator, inspecting the bright beaded beast from every angle. See this he gets. This took time, this took care. Leaning in close the warmth of the overhead light pleasantly burns the top of his head. Absorbed by the shimmering light off the beads, Allan is unaware as his hair suddenly begins to lengthen. The buzz he has always kept short for sheer manageability begins to curl over his ears, growing warm even quicker as it tints darker. Not quite black but certainly not the blonde shade he was always happy to keep despite his spending as few hours outside as possible.

Before curls can begin to crest over his forehead, his face is not spared the glare of the spotlight. Immediately as his olive eyes glaze over, absorbed into the intricate stitched patterns they begin to stain darker. The jade he has always seen in his own reflection shades darker ever so slightly. Not brown. No he doesn’t have brown eyes, they’re just hazel? His eyebrows match the suddenly darkened hair on his head as he stands staring at the beast. Not expanding to cover more of his face but growing thicker, denser. Almost as if to shade his eyes from the light. His lips thicken as a grin begins to tinge his face. Reaching up Allan feels stubble begin to prickle his chin and upper lip, as if he spent time shaving this morning. 

Allan moans contentedly as he gives in and reaches fully into the spotlight to touch the coyote. Rules and codes of propriety fall to the wayside as he reaches beyond the realm of rationality to touch the statue of the trickster. His hands burn as they tint ever so slightly darker under the glare of the spotlight. As soon as his middle finger feels the warmth of the first bead he recoils in shock. “Q- What?!” He falls onto his ass, no time to inspect his decidedly browner hands as the commotion made immediately summons Abuelita Lupe. The elderly attendant meanders as quickly as she can into the showroom, “¿Qué pasó Alan?” Alan flexes his hand in shock. Whatever just happened it can’t be his fault.  Surely he didn’t just unprompted mess with some artifact on display. “I, um? No sé?” He pauses, unsure of what he just said, nonsense he thinks. “I mean um, I’m not sure?”

Lupe goes to help him up with what little strength she can muster only for him to wave her off, sure that she would only get in the way. He finds standing takes more effort than usual as he does so with a grunt. Nervously patting him on the back, Lupe asks him if he’s alright after the spill, buzzing around him with concerned pleasantries. Alan doesn't quite hear her as he instead inspects his own body. His clothes are tighter. He stretches and pulls at them, presuming them to just be falling weird on him after the fall. But close inspection shows otherwise. Looking at his cardigan it is clearly strained by his chest and stomach. Blushing at the idea he’s put on weight, Alan crosses his arms and notices how snugly his arms fill the sleeves, how his wrists hang out further than they should, not only that but they are unmistakably darker. Not brown, but without a doubt a few shades darker than his usual porcelain tone.

Recovering from being lost in his thoughts he looks to find Lupe staring, “Oh! Lo, uh sorry. Did you uh, ask me something Senora Carvajal?” Looking down at a sharper angle than he did earlier, he sees the abuela looking at his head with a tilt. “Did you do something different with your hair mijo?” eyes narrowing with concern and suspicion he thrusts his hair into his new curls. He immediately gasps in shock before reconsidering. This is how he’s always looked right? 

Thank god his hair is naturally curly so he can just leave them as they fall without much ado. He smiles and shakes his head at Lupe and she nods happily in return. Reaching up she puts her small hand on his bicep and squeezes it, Alan can barely hear her as he is struck with just how powerful his arm seems next to her small hand as she continues, “Well I like it mijo.” With that she aways and leaves Alan be. Having the floor to himself his expression grims as he pulls out his phone to look for a picture of himself. Something is off. His mind tells him everything is normal. When he looks at his hands he sees them as they have always been right? Why would he have a buzz cut when his hair is so naturally nice? Something in his gut screams out that something unnatural is going on. His camera roll should hold proof. Going through his phone he barely holds back a gasp that would surely summon the docent back as he is immediately greeted by a folder of his own nudes.

“Que chingado…” He whispers under his breath as his face burns redder than the scarlet beads on the coyote. He didn’t take these did he? Zooming in he is once more floored to see tattoos on his body. Looking down at his arm he sharply inhales as there's a sting and suddenly his wrist matches the image on his phone. Or no. He’s had that tattoo for years?

 Aghast at himself he still feels he wouldn’t have taken these photos of himself. Vain in many ways, his appearance is not one of them. He wonders if he’s been set up or hacked or something before he reminds himself no one would be able to do so without his knowledge. He’s a pro after all. Mind going to his technical skills, his chest puffs with pride as it grows to match the one he finds in the nudes soft-core and otherwise on his phone. Alan quickly shoves it in his pocket, finding it a much tighter fit than when he retrieved it. 

Looking around nervously, he walks close to the coyote once more. Narrowing his eyes he feels new memories come to mind from his childhood. Memories of hearing story after story of the trickster, he tilts his head as the slightest whiff of something amiss hides behind them. Staring into the eyes of the beast with suspicion the image of reading Greek mythologies by himself fades away to be replaced by his mother telling him stories from her own childhood. The coyote playing tricks and la Llorona terrorizing their little town just to make sure he stays in line. Alan smiles as he shakes out of the reverie, my mom wasn't morena was she? Headache rising as seconds pass standing near the beast he wanders away, muttering to himself without awareness, “didn’t want him in the main hall anyway.”

His hair continues to thicken and curl darker as he moves deeper into the exhibition space. Scratching at his stubble lost in thought he finds it defining itself into a goatee with a matching mustache. His phone still unlocked in his pocket shifts displays his form as he continues to change unawares. He feels himself begin to sweat intensely as his cardigan grows even tighter. His body decides to ramp up his masculinity as he starts to outright swell with muscle. His whole body twitches larger as he briefly recalls Lupe playfully flexing, “un joven fuerte!” He clicks his tongue and grins as he sees his biceps strain his sweater, almost enough to see his button up through the threads. He fights back a smirk feeling his shirt underneath hug the sides of his chest as his soldiers expand. Feeling his thicker pits start to sweat through said shirt and into the jacket he resolves to remove the cardigan.

His struggled grunts echo through the museum space as he struggles to get the cardigan off over his chest. The sound of fabric tearing rips through the room as stitches finally give way down the whole front of the garment, his pecs bursting larger into the open air. The top few buttons of his dress shirt also explode open as he is finally freed from the constricting sweater, “ayy dios- fuck…” He whispers to himself as he appreciates the ice cold air of the museum on his sweaty skin. The white dress shirt may as well be sheer with his sweat soaking it, allowing any gawkers to easily see tattoos running down his arm and the nipples almost poking through the shirt.

Only briefly does he wonder why he’s not self conscious about being exposed in the gallery before he notices a side-exhibition hall. “Ah si, uh. The temporary exhibit,” he whispers dreamily. Keeping quiet as any respectful museum-goer does. Though he doesn’t quite have the bodily awareness to mute his increasingly loud footsteps, each one growing louder as his upper body expands. He looks up to read the title of the exhibit as the sound of his shoulders widen enough to tear the back of his button up. Marichismo: Taking Back Latino Masculinity. He smirks as he finds the idea compelling, he’s uh, not hispanic of course. Nor has he ever been intrigued by ‘art’ in the slightest, he thinks. But something draws him deeper. Something pulls him further. Something in him begs for more.

His pants creak as he crosses the threshold into the new space, his ass expanding beyond the pale. Similarly does his crotch demand both more room and his attention as Arlad is immediately face to face with a deliberately provocative statue. The blush burning his face is just as soon hidden as his tan grows darker as he’s overwhelmed by everything in front of him. It’s as if Tom of Finland were Chicano. Bulges beyond belief force their way out at every angle. Rigid thick mustaches hang stoic on every face as Arlad feels his own stubble grow darker, thicker, itchier.

The student is torn between instincts, just as he feels increasingly torn between two worlds. His body continues ballooning and his shirt bursts clean off, buttons scatter to the floor and sharp tears launch down his arms. He can’t help but hungrily scan the floorspace as the bright lights bore into him, exposing him as if he were a piece of art on display. He looks down just in time to see his cock burst large enough to blow his zipper out which only addles his mind further, “Tal vez, just a minute…” He wanders into the exhibit hall proper as his eyes finally make the jump into a rich chocolate brown. He trips over his feet, gasping as he feels them stuffed uncomfortably tight in his oxfords before kicking off the shoes altogether. Just as soon do his pants rip off and he is left almost entirely nude in this exhibit hall.

His mouth hangs open as his cock acts almost like a dowsing rod in between pieces. The language in which Arcad thinks rapidly begins to change altogether, already a bilingual medley, with each starved look at photographed vaqueros or bulge forward paintings does English drift farther away. Maintaining fluency in both of course, the man would never let that tongue take predominance over that of his madre y su madre before her. His pecs pump even larger with pride as thick curls begin itching up from his crotch. He scratches at his stomach as he smirks at his body finally getting on brand. This whole show is about displaying masculinity and he needs to be the apex. He needs…

Arcad twitches as these definitive thoughts cut through the fog in which he has been going about. Why does he care so much about this place? He doesn’t like art. Certainly not this uh smut. He twitches as he argues that being provocative is the point, sexualization of the male form is the point. Why could he know that? How does he know anything about this exhibit? Looking around at the photographs he sees men who are almost a parody of masculinity. Fighting back the overwhelming pervasive horniness issuing forth from balls bulging larger he takes a deep breath and ignores the temple to the male form around him. 

It’s impossible for him to notice as his thoughts crest fully into español. After all it simply is the language in which he has always thought, no matter what his teachers demand of him. Back to the matter at hand he is struck with the urge to create. Mierda- this exhibition really inspired him, he should really write an essay about this. Or, no. He moans and clutches at his temples as the shining lights out of sight gleam even brighter, sparkling off his sweaty muscled form as he’s racked with the pain of opposing realities. No, that isn’t right. He doesn’t do essays anymore. That’s not how he creates. 

Memories of long hours at the lab and in dark rooms sitting at a keyboard dissipate. Haughty superiority over fields and forms he deems insignificant thankfully blast away as images of the photographs and artworks around him come to mind with an ease that makes him uneasy. Creeping in from the edges of his lived memory are other exhibits, many that he has visited, some that he has put on of his own accord. 

Tattoos continue to drip down his arm as his treasure trail rushes onto his chest, blooming out to cover his pecs. The space in between his mustache and goatee is quickly filled, as are the entirety of his cheeks as his eyes shut even tighter. Independent muscle groups twitch as his body struggles to forge him even larger, to be more. The lengthy curls on his head fall away as his head returns to a buzz cut, this time black as the night. This time impossibly deliberate. 

Arcadio buzzed it himself, he loved his curls. But he knew for this exhibition he had to sacrifice. Anything for his art. The phrase burns across his mind, Marichismo. It, it was his exhibition. Arcadio opens his eyes to find himself standing across from an oppressive statue staring down at him in disdain. His blood boils as his fight or flight activates. Though staying strong he just clenches his fist as his body bulges larger one last time. “Papa.” He made that statue, he isn’t about to be shoved around by his own art. The feeling of confidence filling him at standing up against the domineering statue is more than he could have held within him as Allan. Reverbs of confidence go through his psyche as he finally gets it. Turning around the confidence that fills him rapidly dissipates as he sees a man posing like a dog.

He exercised complete creative control of the exhibition, but did he take this? Memories of being behind the lens of the camera dance through his mind for most of the images, this one seems obscured. He ignores the cold sudden sting of a nose ring as he leans in close to inspect it, smirking all the while. Who’d he get to model this? Looking at the jockstrap he nods approvingly, mierda it is certainly hot though. His underwear stretches to its absolute limit as he forces his large hand down to paw his cock at the image. Looking down at his hairy forearm he gasps as he sees the tattoo on his forearm perfectly matches that of the model. 

At that moment his underwear burst free from his body and he suddenly realizes that being nude in this space is far worse a breach of etiquette than touching that coyote. Arcadio sprints to his bag and digs around for anything he could possibly use to hide his still bulging cock at half mast. “¡Gracias a dios!” he whispers under his breath as he wraps a towel around his waist, perfectly mimicking a photograph behind him. He smirks at the man thinking how proud Jose will be when he gets to see himself on a gallery wall. Arcadio grunts and clenches his head as memories of the man ahead of him fill his mind. Lightheaded he leans against the wall grimacing as he leads a sweaty handprint on the pristine white wall.

Turning around seeing the exhibit hall as a whole he almost falls over with a rush of memories. Advanced math and the life he once lived as Allan are dust in the wind as his childhood growing up the son of first generation immigrants in San Antonio rises to take their place. Living alone with his mother before his abuela moved up from Mexico to help raise him as if he were her son. Understanding himself and the world around him as he discovered who he was and what he had to do. Finally achieving success, winning grants, booking galleries as an artist. Not too bad for a maricon eh? He winks at the statue of his father, smirking as he feels his power as a man and artist grow.

Looking down at some engineering homework scattered from his bag the last pangs of a headache buzzes through him before he shakes his head and the work is gone. The last shreds of a life he once lived dissipate. Walking out into the lobby he sees his abuelita. She smiles at the massive man before adjusting her glasses and shouting out, “¡Ay! ¿Qué estás haciendo? ¡Ponte algo de ropa! (What are you doing! Put some clothes on!)” Arcadio laughs and waves her off, knowing the museum is closed while he preps his exhibition for opening tomorrow. 

His new voice is rich on his tongue as he speaks up, “Espero que les guste. La universidad no sabe lo que pagaron ¡ja! (Hope they like it. The uni doesn’t know what they paid for ha!)” His abuelita clicks her tongue, she loves her grandson more than the world but boy if he hasn’t made her old beyond her years. She digs through the lost and found next to her for something that might fit her larger than life grandson and throws it at him. The man laughs and his abuelita can’t help but join in the reverie. She wouldn’t dream of going through his exhibit- que obsceno, que cachondo! But he could do no real wrong in her eyes. So far he’s blown her expectations out of the water with his success and she can’t wait to see what Arcadio gets up to next.