#tonight's a yoga night!

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Unfortunately sometimes I know what will fix me and then I just don't do it. Anyway

[tardis--dreams]

Gonna go running tomorrow!!!! Gotta hype myself up because i know once my alarm goes off at 6am i will not be as excited anymore ((((: BUT I'LL GO RUNNING!!!!

[blorboresidue]

kinda proud of myself I've been so good at keeping up with my pt exercises this week that the app is like you know what you've done enough. just lay down for a couple minutes

[sparkingintelligence]

.

[sucknizzo]

the plus side of having therapy on Monday is now I'm oh so free tomorrow and I'm kick starting my half weekend by having steak tonight

[thecoochiefairy]

xxx. suguru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, roleplay, non-consensual consent, rough sex/rough play, dominant suguru, black woman, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, choking, knife play, oral [f] [m], praising, size kink, overstimulation, degrading, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, doggy style, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this may not be everyone’s tea. for sure one of the hottest things i wrote in my book of eroticas. enjoy, cause i did. dedicated to my mocha, @st4rbwrry ,she asked me to do this for her once.

nasty links, ya nasty— bounce. take it like a good girl. ooh, you’re so good for me.

SCARY MOVIES WEREN’T YOUR THING. They were simply a morbid curiosity, especially in your household. Your father was an extremely Christian man, anything seemingly too creepy or Halloween affiliated was the work of the devil. A god-fearing man, yes—But nothing was more terrifying than your boyfriend. 

Suguru Getou. It was like a hushed name within the night, calling him three times like CandyMan, even a cross wouldn’t keep him away from you. You were a Christian woman as well, but not as harshly as your father. You had your own questions, moralities, beliefs. You didn’t judge anyone based on their views—you never judged him. 

Meeting him within the bookstore as you went to pick up a pink Bible, your cheeks went warm as you accidentally dropped the book in your hand on the way out—he then noticed the second one you clutched to your chest, never noticing it was a deeply egregious erotica. His tattooed hand gripped the object off of the ground, veiny and large as he handed it back to you. You were a beauty to him. 

Freckles along your cheeks, button nose and slender eyes with bohemian goddess braids, flyaways sticking to your round face. He caught sight of the golden cross that sat in between your breasts, the dark inked skull tattooed along your neck giving him whiplash. When you bent down to reach for the book, he caught back dermals just above the yoga pants you wear, long sleeve top clinging to your frame. Your voice was sweet, the blush of your cheeks delineated innocence, even if the sight of you didn’t.  You were pure to him. 

At least…he thought you were. 

You were sitting along your bed, the sheer white canopy atop of it paired with champagne lights hung all around the ceiling. Your background played SCREAM, one of your favorite horror movies that Suguru had introduced you to, as you were a little afraid to watch them by yourself—but he was busy tonight, and you figured you’d face your fears. 

Your glasses hung on the tip of your nose as you were more hyper-focused in your book, the sexual endeavors of the characters making your thighs rub together a bit, a highlighter in between your plump lips as you wanted to remember all the best parts. Your attention was pulled away as you heard rustling coming from your open window along the second floor of the house, enjoying the cool air of the night. You frown, lowering your book. You listen. 

Nothing comes in return, so you go back to your book. The rustle happens again. You narrow your eyes, standing from the bed as you go towards your window in preparation to just close it. That’s when a knock comes on your door, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You were always jumpy.

You go towards the door, tightening the robe you wear, pushing your glasses upon your nose as you open it. It’s your father. 

Giving him a warm smile, you greet, “Hi, Daddy. All packed up for your trip?”

“Yup. All packed up and ready to go, sweetie. Did you remember everything?”

A gentle yet stern tone comes from him. One you were used to hearing by now. The tall, strong yet slender man gave a soft smile before speaking once more.

“You’ all right? You seem a bit startled.”

You sigh, “Been watching scary movies again—it’s only the first ten minutes where the girl gets a weird phone call. I thought I could handle watching it alone—unfortunately, I’m a wuss. Are you heading out to the airport now?”

Your father let out a soft chuckle.The first ten minutes always got to you somehow. To his dismay, this was why you had Suguru at your side to comfort you when you needed it. But he wasn’t here tonight.

“I’m about to head out now. I was hoping I would be able to see you one more time before I get on the plane.”

“You’re such a big teddy bear,” you poke fun, “I’ll walk you to the door,” you offer, pushing on your bunny slippers as you follow behind him downstairs. You lived in a big house, taking ages to get anywhere whether it was a bedroom or bathroom.

The man rolled his eyes though he couldn’t help a soft smile, amused from the way you teased him. He loved you, all too much. 

Once you both get downstairs, you go to the front door where your father picks up his bags and checks to see if he had everything. He spoke again, a frown appearing once more.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in the house by yourself? I know you’re not always fond of being alone at night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you give him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh, “I love you, okay? Be safe.”

He wraps his strong arms around your frame, hugging you close to his form as he kisses your forehead. He loved you more than words could describe. You were his little girl, after all.

“I love you too. I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, alright?”

You give him a final wave as he makes it out to his taxi, blowing a kiss as the vehicle pulls off. You were relieved to get some alone time, and now you could fully dive into your book. You search the pantry as you grab for your sour gummy bears, plopping one into your mouth as you make your way back upstairs. You could hear the sound of screams, knowing the movie was still faintly playing on your TV. But as you enter your bedroom, you notice something. 

Your window was…closed?

You frown. You were certain that you had left the window open, but yet, it was closed. You shake your head, telling yourself that it was nothing and you’d forgotten to close it. 

You release a breath as you mutter, “Girl. Don’t be scaring yourself now.”

With that, you decide to cut off the movie, turning on some soothing music to calm your nerves. You return to your bed soon after, setting your gummy bears down beside you. You’re back to reading—but you can’t shake the raised awareness in the back of your mind.

As you continue to read, you can hear the house's landline going off downstairs. You sigh, pausing your music. You’re quickly making your way downstairs before the call hangs up, pulling the phone to your ear as you speak, “Hello?”

You expected it to be your father, telling you that he had left something behind, or maybe a friend of yours. It would’ve been normal for either. However, you were only greeted with silence for a moment.

But then, you soon hear the sound of a deep voice, an…unfamiliar tone.

“Hello, ❤︎.”

You blink at the voice knowing your name, placing your hand along the table as you speak, “Um—hi. Who is this?”

The voice was deep and alluring. But that didn’t make his familiarity any less uncomfortable. It’s a tone you’ve never heard. It sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Let’s keep that a secret for now.”

“Well if it’s a secret, then we don’t need to be talking,” you say, quickly hanging up the phone. 

You frown, wondering if you should call your father. Or Suguru. You didn’t want to worry him as he was on the way to the airport, and his flight would be soon. On top of that, your boyfriend was at work. You decide on grabbing a bottle of water, going to make your way back upstairs—

But that’s when the phone rings again.

Your breathing picks up a little. No, you shouldn’t answer it. You hope it’s a simple prank. Your mind goes back to the movie earlier. You should just ignore the call, or maybe you’re just scaring yourself over something so simple. 

You take the phone back into your hand, answering as you say, “Hello?” More impatient this time. 

Once again, the same deep voice is heard on the other line, though the tone had a hint of annoyance. You could practically feel a sinister smile through the phone.

“Why so impatient now, sweetheart?”

His tone was taunting, almost as if they were making fun of you. It was starting to get under your skin.

“Because you’re playing on my phone. Who is this?” You question again, eyes warily looking around your kitchen. You then make your way over to your front door, unlocking and relocking it for your own security.

There’s a soft, airy chuckle that comes before the voice replies, his tone still playful. Like this was some sort of game to him.

“You’re awfully stubborn, aren’t you? Do you always have this much trouble listening?”

The line goes silent for a moment, though you can still hear faint breaths. Chills run over your body again. You could feel eyes on you. Like someone was watching you at this very moment.

You grip the phone tighter in your hand. You then say, “Suguru, I know this is you. Quit fucking with me because I told you what I was watching earlier. It’s not funny.”

“It’s unfortunate for you that I’m not your boyfriend.” 

It’s like all the small hairs on your body prick up. Your heart begins to stammer in your chest, your eyes blinking. You feel like you’re in a dream.

“…What?”

The tone is no longer playful, instead becoming more…disturbing. But, there’s also a hint of amusement. Like they’re enjoying this. Enjoying you getting frightened.

“I said— I’m not your boyfriend.”

A pause, your heart beating faster. All of this felt so… wrong. Then, the voice continues—

“Though, I wish I was. You look good as fuck in that robe.”

That sentence was chilling. Your entire body went cold, and you felt frozen in your spot. You joked about watching this type of situation in the media. What you would do, how you’d never be as stupid as the character in this scenario. But here you were, unable to move, your heart pounding in your chest.

The voice on the other line chuckles again, his walk heavy as you can hear his steps. Though, he can’t help but become intrigued that he had struck such a nerve in you. You were such a…fascinating little thing. He knew you were shaking.

“Now tell me, ❤︎. Did locking your door make you feel safe?”

You didn’t know if anymore fear could strike through your veins, but you felt paralyzed.

 You try to keep yourself calm as you lie, “My boyfriends gonna be here soon. So I suggest you get the fuck off of my property before he kills you.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” 

The line goes silent again, but your heart still pounds in your chest. Where could he be at this very moment?

“My next suggestion would be that if you’re gonna lock your door…at least check if your window was actually closed.”

From your eyesight, you can see your bedroom. But you can only see the light coming from it, and your heart stops. You don’t have time to be afraid. You just needed to leave.

You slowly back your way towards your front door, continuously watching the outline of your bedroom, as if you were just waiting to see a figure pop out. As soon as your hand reaches the lock, you slowly turn it, reaching for the handle. 

The sound of your window within your room slams shut.

You yank the front door open, going to make a desperate run for the neighbors—

But that’s when a figure is already in front of the door, and as you trip back, you freeze.

A GhostFace mask appears in your sight, the person wearing it tall, broad. The dark shirt clinging to his olive complexion, tattoos scathing along his large arms, holding a chrome Bowie knife. 

Your scream pierces through the door frame as your instincts make you step back, thinking quickly as you take off back into your house.

Letting out a chuckle at your attempt to escape, he steps into the doorway, slamming the door closed as you try to run off. His footsteps were loud and heavy, like he was taking his sweet time, knowing that you were only tiring yourself further.

You eventually find yourself ducking into the next hallway, finding yourself in your father’s cigar room. You find the closet within it, rushing inside as you close the door, holding it towards yourself. Tears want to brim your eyes as your entire body vibrates from the fear, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying, hearing as his footsteps become closer.

Your breathing goes ragged and labored, your chest tightening as you try your best to muffle the sound of your hyperventilating. You then hear the footsteps get closer and closer. That’s when they stop right outside of the closet.

At this moment, you stop breathing. You close your eyes, awaiting for the next few moments. Nothing.

Instead, you hear the footsteps begin to echo away, up until you don’t hear them at all. You wait for a moment, wishing you had a phone to call someone. Anyone. But you couldn’t stay in this closet forever.

This was your opportunity to escape. You give it a couple more seconds as you gently push the door open, sliding yourself through the small opening to not cause any noise. You peek down the hallway, seeing nothing again. Yet you hear the sound of footsteps from above, meaning he was checking to see if you’d hidden yourself upstairs. 

You bolt down the hallway and back towards your front door, going to throw it open as you see that large, veiny palm raise over your head, slamming the door shut. Your scream rips from your throat, ducking under the figure, trapped as their hand clasps along your throat, thumb along your jaw.

 All you can see is that mask, your eyes wide as they lock down to the blade coming at your throat, lightly connecting to the skin of it.

He was much bigger than you, broad with a toned muscular body. He could easily have you in a death grip if he wanted. You could feel his hot breath coming from under the mask, staring down at you.

“Please don’t hurt me…” you’re desperate, unable to know what else to say at this moment.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, though he can’t help a soft laugh as he’s just realized something. And it makes him…furious. But he keeps his cool, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Leaning down, he brings his covered face so close to your ear that it makes your skin tingle. He speaks in a low tone. It’s almost a growl.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t lie…” you say, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your eyes roam back and forth, hand pressed along his stomach. It’s hard.

His frame is solid, all muscle and toned. He doesn’t buy your excuse for a second. But he continues to take you in. Your face, your body. Your scent. It’s a mixture of amber and vanilla. He could feel how you trembled in his grip, though a part of him wished he was gripping by your chin, making you look him in the eye. But he was enjoying this. The fear on your face.

“You told me your boyfriend was coming.”

Shit, you did say that. 

You can’t come up with a quick enough excuse. You say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

He has a grip on your wrist, dragging you up the stairs as you try to pull away, yet the knife in his other hand keeps you from fighting more than you wanted to. He slams the door of your bedroom, your fearful frame stepping back as you’re trapped inside with him, glancing back over to your window.

At this moment, he has you trapped alone in your bedroom with no one to help you. Yet, you could see his eyes studying you through the mask. Taking in every slight movement of your body. Every shake, every shiver. He was enjoying the sight of you being afraid. It was thrilling.

It felt stupid to plead your case. But you didn’t know what to do. Your brain runs amuck, and you can’t stop yourself as you stupidly say—

“Please don’t hurt me,” you repeat, “I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help the wicked smirk that appears across his features under the mask as he tilts his head, taking a single step closer to you. Like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his eyes remained on you was entrancing. 

“Anything?” 

He repeats, his voice deep.

You clutch the material of your robe, nodding your head in response, your heart in your throat. 

It’s like you’re trying to play detective, eyeing his tattoos, his muscular arms, trying to find a familiarity in his body. Nothing. His onyx shirt clings to him, which almost curves inwards from how fit he was. His ring clad fingers, veins traveling beneath as he clutched his weapon within his hand. A rush of…something else ran within your body. 

What was wrong with you? 

Yet, your fuzzy brain is pulled out of the clouds as you hear his low tone tell you to, “Take off your robe.” 

You blink for a moment. You then give a soft nod, beginning to untie your robe, draping it off your shoulders, dropping it down along the floor. The air in the room hits your skin, the pale pink babydoll slip you wore, your brown nipples showing through the thin fabric. The sheer material glides down to the thong you wear, barely covering your ass, the small bow within the back attached to the lingerie. 

Your body is revealed to him, his eyes gazing over your figure. Yet, he remains still. Though, you can see the rise and fall of his chest become slightly quicker. He just didn’t move, his expression almost unreadable behind the hard, white mask. Silence, all apart from the hammering of the heart that was stuck in your throat.

You can then hear him say, “On your knees. Crawl.” 

And so, you listen. Your palms lead the way, your legs slightly dragging against the carpet as you make your way over to him, slender eyes feline, coaxing. You don’t know why you have the urge to give him a show, but you pause when you’re directly in front of him, politely sitting on the balls of your feet, knees pointed to the floor. 

He towers over you, his large frame making you look so… tiny. Yet, he can’t help but become impressed at the way you had obeyed his request. His dark eyes don’t remove themselves from you for a single moment. Like he’s studying every movement you make.

He was being far gentler than what you expect. He tilts your head by the point of his knife, forcing you to look up at him as he looks down at you through that damn mask.

“You listen good as fuck, pretty.” 

Your eyes blink at him, palms itching along your lap. He then takes his other hand as he runs it through your hair, lightly, as if you were delicate to the touch. Your body tenses as he then gets a grip on your hair, clutching the braids in between his fingers, tugging your head back to fully look at him. 

And he likes it. He likes how you look right now. Your head pulled back, looking up at him. It’s like you were at his mercy. Like you were completely and utterly at his whim. Just how he wanted you.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Another slow flutter of your lashes surpass, and you part your Cupid’s bow lips, sticking your tongue out in the process. 

A sinful grin makes its way across his face, even if you can’t tell. 

He moves the knife's blade to your chin, tipping your jaw a little more up to see you better. His voice is still low as he tells you, “Wider.”

You open your mouth even more, breath hitching as you do so. Your eyes can only search the terrifying white expression, but when you glance down, his body…terrifying wasn’t the exact word you’d use. 

He’s enjoying the way you’re submitting to him. It’s like something within him had woken up. You can see the rise and fall of his chest again, his breathing having picked up slightly. Like it was arousing him. 

“All that fuckin’ mouth you had over the phone. Where’s that shit at now?” 

You lightly dig your teeth into your lip, the tone of his voice through this mask. It’s doing something to you. You’re crazy. But this entire situation is.

Your voice is soft, your own words passing through your mouth before you could think about them.  

“Put something in it, then.”

His fingers come along the side of your jaw, his thumb running over your lip, sliding against your tongue. 

“You’ want it in your mouth?”

You nod your head, eyes glimmering beneath the lights of your room. 

“Suck some fuckin’ dick, then.”

You’re already unbuckling his belt, reaching under his boxers as you pull his length from beneath the compressing fabric. It springs out as it’s already hard, pink tip glistening from the pre-cum, slapping along his belly button in freedom. 

The veins along it make it look terrifying, heavy in your palms as you lean forward, taking in the scent of rum spice and cedar wood against his smooth skin. The olive tone of his complexion is covered by ink, even in the most intimate areas. You drag your tongue along his tip, raising your eyes up, lash extensions flickering like dark butterflies.

You can hear the grunt that comes from his mouth, tugging at your hair as you fully wrap your lips along his tip, swirling your tongue around, enveloping the clean taste of his flesh. You adjust yourself along your knees, arching yourself closer to him, moving your head slowly back and forth, allowing your mouth to collect more inches each time you take him deeper. His tip begins to caress against the roof of your mouth each time you move.

The warm walls of your cheeks hollow his dick, entrapping the heaviness of it as you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your small fingers along the base of him, rotating your palm around. Pulling his tip out of your mouth you then drop spit along the veiny flesh, beginning to revolve your hand around, almond brown vision flickering back up to the mask, your other hand running under his shirt, feeling the way his muscles flex within his abdomen.

His hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you closer to him as you stroke faster. He lets out a low groan, hips bucking slightly, grinding his dick between your lips and hand. You can feel his pulse beating against your fingertips, throbbing with every pass through. He pulls your head back, smearing saliva across your jaw before shoving his tip back into your mouth, sliding all the way to the back of your throat. Your head nuzzles side to side, allowing it to shuffle even deeper, the walls of your throat flexing as you gag.

 You hear his deep voice lowly drop, ”Fuuck...”

You pull your mouth back, cheeks warm on the outside, freckled and lightly hueing a red tint as you softly ask, “Does it feel good?” Slapping his dick along your tongue, kissing the tip in an almost polite way.

“Feels good as fuck,” He grunts, grabbing your chin firmly and tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Pull your tit’s out. Go down until you’re rubbing your pussy, I know this shit’ is making you wet.”

He was right, it was. Each time his tip slammed against the back of your throat, your inner thighs became warm as you rubbed them together. You yank down the material of your babydoll slip, exposing your brown nipples, using one hand to lightly rub at the hardening skin, using the other to hold his dick in your hand, dragging your mouth back around the shaft of it. He twitches in your mouth as you start to suckle, slurping heavily, saliva spurting in between the space of your lips each time his balls slam along your jaw. He keeps a grip on your onyx hair tighter—you’re nasty with it, guiding your head up and down erotically.

You then slide your hands down your stomach and thigh, coming around to meet with the inner part of it, brushing your fingers against your clit that throbs along your thong. It almost makes you flinch.

He watches you with lust-filled eyes, the ghost mask seeming to leer as you touch yourself. He feels as you tense up, “Be a big fuckin’ girl and make yourself feel good.” 

He guides your head faster, thrusting into your mouth with increasing force. His balls begin to slap loudly against your chin, precum leaking from the tip to coat your tongue.

“Call me baby,” you protest as you find the space to pull away, immediately going back to keeping your mouth full. You almost break, your voice feeble as you talk, “Want your fingers. Wanna squirt on them…” you can’t stop whining to him, moving your head back and forth, faster to meet the mean pace he gives.

“I know you fuckin’ heard what I said. Sink your fingers in,” he grunts to you, feeling the whimper around his dick, your fingers listening as you drag them down, nudging them at your opening. You can hear how wet you are, but your own aren’t enough. You need more. 

Your other hand is still locked around him, keeping your mouth steady as he has one hand on the back of your head, the other on your jaw, pulling it open wider as he fucks your face. 

“That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Listening good as fuck.”

You become frustrated as you pull back, pouting to him, “I can’t make myself cum…” 

You spit against his tip, now focusing in as it seems to be sensitive. You protect your teeth with your lips, sucking inward as you bob your head up and down, using your throat as you muffle out hums to add to his stimulation, talented in pleasuring him. 

He groans deeply, feeling your tongue continuously swirling around the tip, sending jolts straight to his entire body. 

“Fuck,” he aggressively grunts, “Ooh, shit. Baby. Keep doing that," he growls, his hips jerking slightly as he loses control for a second, pushing deeper into your mouth. "Gonna fill that pretty ass throat up."

That’s when you become more defiant—The pressure in between your legs is almost painful. You need him. You pull yourself back, placing yourself along the bed, spreading your knees apart, arching your back as you press your stomach against the sheets. Your face is tilted backwards to watch him, taking your hands as you spread yourself apart.

“Fill up my pussy, baby,” you whine, pitiful, but you didn’t care.

His eyes darkened with lust as he saw you spread yourself open for him, your juices dripping onto the sheets below. You’re grinding your clit against the pink comforter, making it a darker shade as it becomes drenched. He stalks towards the bed, fully ripping off his clothes in haste, dragging you fully to the end of the bed as his palms locked around your ankles. 

"Shit, look at that pretty ass pussy," he mutters, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds, “You want my cum, huh? Beg for it."

His words are demanding, but there's an underlying tone of pleasure and desire. He's eager to claim you.

But you’re even more eager.

 You grip his arm, pulling him down to where his back is along the sheets, climbing atop of him. You don’t forget to lock your mouth around his tip for a moment, dropping your lips down to reach his abdomen, saliva dragging out of your mouth, dribbling along your chin as you pull back, seeing as his abs tighten, giggling as that makes him give you a harsh spank to your ass. 

Your knees are on each side of him, already wrapping your fingers around his tip, guiding it as you rub it along your clit. 

You whimper, “Wanna slide down on your dick, baby. Tell me I can…”

“Go ‘head. Drop down, slowly.” 

You do as you're told, placing your hand along his stomach as you lean forward, sinking yourself down, his tip plunging in between your tight folds. He was like a monster, attempting to rip you in half. Your eyes lightly roll, your hips spazzing at the feeling. A baby gasp parts from your mouth as he roughly spanks you again, coaxing you to keep going. You sink yourself down farther, the heaviness of your ass sticking against his abdomen, his tip already kissing your cervix, it makes your face contort in an aching pleasure, so fucking horny as you already begin bouncing on him, your pussy squelching as you whimper from the slight pain.

It was like a soreness from a workout, a burn from a meal you couldn’t wait to cool down, you whine messily as you drive yourself wild, clapping your ass down against his thighs.

His eyes follow every movement of your hips, drinking in the sight of your ass slapping against his thighs. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans of pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, fingers digging around into the soft flesh of your ass as he begins dragging you to meet your own downward motions.

"Yeah? You’ gonna keep fucking me like that? Like you needed this fuckin’ dick?”

You’re looking back as the skin of your ass shaking in his palms, sobbing already, eyes rolling back as you pout heavily, nodding your head as it falls back, whimpering out messily, “Yes, baby. Been wanting to bounce on your dick just like this…” 

You hiccup, your soft cry echoing along the walls, louder than your skin slapping against his, “So fuckin’ needy for you…”

His thumbs dig deeper into the supple cheeks of your skin, spreading them apart slightly as he watches himself disappear into you over and over.

"Pussy hungry as fuck, sucking my shit in…” He growls low in his throat, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. 

"Keep going, needy ass fuckin’ girl—fuck,” he lowly moans, head falling back against the bed, mask tilting upwards. His hands move to grip your waist, helping pull you down onto him with force, his thick shaft stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation borders on painful, but the pleasure far outweighs it, making you pathetically cry out in ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the sudden depth. He holds you there, still and deep, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness before starting to move once more. His hand is on your shoulder, slamming you back down, sounds erotically implausible. 

"You love this, don't you?" He growls, voice strained with pleasure. "Love being stuffed full of my dick,” His hands slide up your sides, fingers splaying across your ribs as he begins to piston in and out of you with relentless intensity.

He’s like a demon climbing out of hell for the first time. You keep up with him though, keeping your eyes locked on his as you groan, “Love it so fuckin’ much. Gonna’ cum in my tight pussy, baby?” You can hear the grunt he makes from that question, planting your feet along the bed as you raise your hips, dropping them down, “Hit my spot, baby. Wanna squirt all in your mouth soon.”

His grunts deepen into animalistic growls, the force of his thrusts growing harder, faster, more erratic. Sweat drips down from under his mask, tattooed muscles flexing beneath his skin. 

“Nasty ass fuckin’ mouth. I hear you, baby. ‘Gonna' drench me," he rasps, one hand moving between your bodies to rub at your clit in time with his strokes. 

His other hand grips your hip, using it as leverage to slam you down onto him, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with unrelenting precision. The wet squelching of your juices and the slap of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural sounds. He's close, you can tell, his movements becoming almost violent in their desperation.

“Fuck me from the back,” you beg, “Come fuck me, baby. That’s how I wanna cum,” you beg him, swirling your hips in circles, dragging your nails along his skin.

He flips you over onto your stomach without hesitation, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his masked gaze. One hand remains gripping your hip while the other moves around to grasp your throat, applying gentle pressure.

"You’ better be fuckin’ me back," he smacks his lips, “Keep asking for shit. Spoiled as fuck.”

With a sharp tug, he rubs his tip in between your folds, the sensitivity making you hiss a bit. But he does the opposite of what you expect, raising you up slightly to press your back against his chest, material of the mask pressed up against your face, almost to where you can feel his lips against your skin. 

You reach your hand behind yourself, holding him as he sinks himself in. You feel every inch as it goes in, sinking so deep it inflames your walls, your eyes rolling back as you gasp, “Oh, shit,” as you unexpectedly squirt, the fluid gushing out so harshly that it nearly pushes his dick out. Your thighs tremble as you shudder out in broken whines, his hand gripping tighter along your throat, hearing the arrogant chuckle in your ear.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine even as your inner walls clench around him. His grip on your throat tightens fractionally, a subtle reminder of his dominance.

"Look at you, squirting like a fuckin’ faucet.”

You shriek as he spanks you, “So fuckin’ responsive for me. Love milking this pussy, baby. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he riles you up, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside,  slamming back in, driving deep once more, making you squirt out again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, reaching behind helplessly as you try to halt his hips, feeling as he yanks your hand behind your back. You plead, “W—wait, baby. Wait. Wait. Ooh, shi—oh—fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…”

Your whine is so pretty, your body relaxing as if you’ve given up at this point, back to pouting as you can’t. Stop. Squirting. 

Tears well in your eyes, you’re crying at this point, your hips tensing, a soreness beginning to produce from your body pushing out so much energy. You’re moaning weakly as he coos behind you, “Yeah, baby. That’s good. Open up your pussy," his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've got you."

With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, grinding against your cervix. Your scream is muffled by his palm over your mouth as he holds you still, impaling you on his dick.

“Told you to fuck me back, your ass don’t fuckin’ listen,” he grunts, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a bullying pace. "Fuck, your pussy is perfect."

This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted—now you were paying for it. You’re sobbing in patterns, broken and repetitive, trapped as you can only whimper, “Please cum, baby. Cum in me. Fuckin’ fill me up, baby,” but this is your only way of escaping this depraved act.

He laughs cruelly, the sound echoing through the room as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You want my cum? Then fucking earn it, slutty ass fuckin’ girl. My slutty ass baby.” 

His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you even harder, each thrust jarring your entire body. The pressure builds in your core, your orgasm just out of reach.

With the last bit of strength you have, you apologize, “So sorry, baby. Didn’t listen. Lemme’ be your good girl,” as you begin to throw your ass back, slamming it along his abdomen, it’s nearly too slippery to have the skin stick together. You’ve coated him with your arousal, you have nothing left to give him, “Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, need your cum, pretty boy…”

At your pitiful plea, he releases your throat, gripping your hips instead as he pounds into you mercilessly. His breathing grows ragged, muscles straining as he chases his release, his helpless moans are sexy, even a light whimper slipping out— it was rare for him to have. 

"Fuckin’ hell..." he grits out between clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I’m about to bust, baby. Where you’ want it?”

“In me,” you whimper desperately, “Don’t be mean.”

The bastard. He chuckles, “Shut that shit up. I know.” 

With one final, intense thrust, his dick pulses as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep inside you. He pulls himself out to replace his dick with his fingers, rubbing chaotically in between your opening and your clit, knowing how you’d react to that. Your entire body spazzes as you shout, groaning into a scream as you gush out more cum, causing him to rip the mask off, burying his face in between your legs, lapping up the final orgasm that completely drains you. You’re crying and shaking, nearly dropping forward along the bed as he’s there to catch you. 

The familiar coconut scent of his dark hair rubs up against your cheek as he turns your face to kiss him, sloppily sinking his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“That was good, baby,” Suguru grunts, both of you breathing heavily against one another, desire and passion filling the air. 

“We need to watch scary shit more often,” he holds your throat, talking within your ear, the breathless giggle only being your response for a moment. 

“Yeah, we do.”

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Virgin! Jason Todd

Virgin! Jason Todd who is absolutely whipped as soon as he meets you. Im talking stuttering, fumbling over himself, even a slight blush, dare I say. He just doesn't know what to do with himself in the presence of somebody so blessed with a goddess' beauty.

Virgin! Jason Todd who tries to act tough anyway (because, in all honesty, he is literally a murderer and not just some soft guy anymore.) And fails horribly. Its endearing to see him try, though... With those strong arms that could either snap you in half within moments or hold you throughout the night.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's constantly needy for you, both in an intimate sense and just for affection in general. In fact, you don't think that there's ever an extended period of time where his hands aren't on you in one way or another.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's so into dry humping that it's an every other days occurance. Laying down on the couch or bed cuddling? His hard dick is pressing right up against your clit through both his and your shorts. Doing yoga because your back is sore from work or cooking dinner when he gets home late? He's lightly thrusting onto your plump ass as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Virgin! Jason Todd who initiates things himself for the first time, starting with you simply sitting on his lap while watching a movie. Then, slowly, he starts kissing down your neck with warm lips and even warmer breaths while moving you to straddle his thighs. You can already feel him getting a bit hard from this alone.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets so into the light kisses he oh so graciously presses against your lips that they end up turning into a heavy make out session. His tongue and yours are tangling together in such a sinful and addicting way that its hard to get enough.

Virgin! Jason Todd who slowly grasps at your hips to grind you at a torturous pace on his toned thigh. The slight amount of friction is divine after getting so worked up over a few kisses, but it's not long until you're humping his thigh like a bitch in heat as you normally do.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's never been afraid to eat you out, and he'll be damned if he doesn't tonight, too. You are his favorite meal, snack, and dessert, after all.

"Come on, gorgeous... You know the drill." He whispers in that deep, gravelly voice from between your legs as you close them, desperately wanting to do something for him in return. "Nuh uh... Let me eat that pretty pussy of yours before anything else, sweetness." And eat he does.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets off on your pleasure. Every time you moan or squirm yourself closer to his face as he laps at your aching hole and bundle of nerves, he grinds himself right into the mattress or side of the couch.

Virgin! Jason Todd who wants you to ride him for your first time together so he can bury his face into your chest and hold you as close as possible. And because he's scared of going at a pace that you won't like, but after how many orgasms he's pulled out of you just by giving you head, you're sure you wouldn't mind whatever makes him happy.

Virgin! Jason Todd who has to actually stop himself from blowing his load just as you put his girthy tip in. He just cant help it... Your tight, warm, and soaked walls fluttering around him is just too heavenly.

"Fuck... Stay right there, sweetheart. Right there. Please." His voice is strained with his effort and slightly muffled as he buries his face into your chest.

Virgin! Jason Todd who is in pure bliss as soon as you start moving, even at such a slow pace to begin with while your creamy walls get used to the stretch of his beautiful, leaking cock.

Virgin! Jason Todd who never realized how much of a moaner he was until he got to have his first time with you. Sure, he's gotten himself off humping your ass or the mattress while he ate you out, but this was on a whole other level.

"Fuckkk..." His head is thrown back against the pillows or headrest of the couch as his hands grasp your ever moving hips. "Can't take much more of this, pretty girl." Jason is almost whining at this point, the sound of his skin slapping against yours joining the obscene sounds in the air of his apartment. "Gonna.. Im gonna-"

Virgin! Jason Todd who cuts himself off with such a gorgeous moan and whine as he cums that it has you going right alongside him. The large, calloused hands on your hips only tighten as you feel his cock fill you up with thick, warm, pearly ropes of cum.

Virgin! Jason Todd who can only whisper praises and words of love for the first couple of minutes coming down from his intense high.

"Fuck... Fucking love you, y'know that?" His chest is still heaving with every panting breath he takes. "Milking me dry with that pretty pussy..."

Virgin! Jason Todd who makes aftercare a top priority very early on, even though he's just barely gaining his own bearings.

"I love you, pretty girl... So much." He presses kisses along your sore and achy thighs as the cool, damp washcloth brushes over your most sensitive and overstimulated parts.

Masterlist

[2tarbell]

MEAN SOMETHING — KOOK!READER

only one person knew how to handle your drunk best friend…

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

you were going to end rafe cameron.

on the one night, the one night, you wanted some alone time and to be away from the boys, he decided to get sloppy drunk. of course, your other best friends have no idea how to take care of a drunk person and you honestly wondered how they even took care of themselves. which left you to slide on some slippers and drive over.

now as you stood before the front door in your victoria’s secret yoga pants and pink sweater, waiting for topper to answer it, you wonder why you let yourself get pulled into shit like this.

it’s rafe, that’s why. that’s always the reason why.

the door swings open to reveal a frazzled topper and kelce, you would’ve laughed at them if you weren’t so pissed. they took in your attire, the prissiness still evident even your pajamas. but you looked slightly disheveled, something they didn’t see often. both boys snorted at the sight of your bunny slippers but you quickly cut them off.

“say anything and i’ll chop your dicks off. where is he?” you seethed.

your tone brooked no argument and they both stepped aside to let you sashay in. kelce had his keys in hand as he mumbled something about rafe being ‘in his room’ and ‘on the floor’.

god was really testing you tonight.

you shooed them away, locking up the door behind them and stomping up the stairs. just praying he wasn’t choking on his own vomit or something.

the sight that greeted you literally made you pause and take out your phone, nails tapping the screen as you took a picture. rafe cameron, laying on his back and seemingly enthralled by the ceiling fan. it was genuinely amusing and kind of adorable. but the bottle of whiskey sitting next to him reminded you of your duty.

“rafe. sit up.”

his head snapped up at your voice, a boyish grin on his lips. he looked younger when he was drunk, stress and age having melted away.

“heeey, baby, whaddaya doin’ hereee?” he slurred, a low rumbly version of his voice.

you stepped closer, standing over him. hands on your hips as you looked down at him. his eyes were hardly open but you didn’t miss how they trailed down your figure.

“making sure you don’t die — get up.” the words were sharp in attempt to make him seriously listen.

he giggled and sighed, pushing up to rest on his elbows. the movement had his head spinning but he didn’t give a shit. just needed a better look at his pretty best friend.

“oh, y’know it turns me on when y’talk to me like that…”

you poked his side with your foot a bit harshly. patience wearing thin, you glared down at him.

“you’re such a pain in my ass—“

“mmm, love your ass,” he hummed but then groaned when you kicked him again, harder.

“rafe, i am so serious right now—“

with a childish huff of annoyance, he lifted himself off the ground but then immediately flopped face first on his bed. small victories, small victories.

you were happy to see dumb and dumber had enough brains to leave a water bottle with him. you grabbed it off the nightstand and perched at the edge of the bed next to the drunken 6’2 baby. a delicate hand rubbed his back; despite being annoyed at him for getting this drunk, you were still worried.

“hey, babe, c’mon — turn over. you need to drink some water…”

rafe unceremoniously flipped over, long legs dangling off the side of the bed. he sat up slowly and groaned at each movement. the room was nonstop spinning, so he decided to focus on one thing: your face. a smile worked its way onto his lips before he could stop himself.

you looked so beautiful, all worried and doting on him. blue eyes stared at your features (like he didn’t already have them committed to memory). the tent in his pant caught your eye and he watched as your eyes rolled. despite the memories of nights spent tangled up with him, you couldn’t believe the audacity he had.

“no way you’re seriously hard right now—“

“mmm, can’t control it around you.”

his smirk was frustrating you, in more ways than one. no, you wouldn’t do anything while he was this drunk. he knows that. yet he still tries to lean up and—

the water bottle presses to his lips, you trying to ease him into drinking and ignoring the bulge you’ve become all too familiar with. his betrayed expression made you snicker. this wasn’t the time to let fantasies run wild. kicking off your slippers and tucking your legs beneath you, you leaned closer.

“c’mon, rafe,” your voice was sweet, so sweet. he couldn’t do anything but take large gulps of water, trying to please you. he was a dumbass but you smiled at his eager approach.

“okay, okay — slow down before you jus’ throw it all up…” the giggle you let out settled right into his bones. rafe found himself wondering why you were just friends. he thought that a lot lately.

“go out with me.”

he definitely thought he sounded more debonair than he did. in reality, half of the words he spoke just flowed into each other. but he kept that low drawl that always sent you reeling. you couldn’t do this, couldn’t approach that territory. not now. you’d be happy if you never did.

“rafe—“ you tensed up.

“no, seriously. you’re— you’re gorgeous and y’put up with me. i mean, c’mon—“

the deep sting to your heart wasn’t something new. but it felt stronger this time, more painful. with a sigh, you set the water back down on his nightstand, brushing his hair back as he continues to rant.

“i think we get along great. y’know y’ten times better than— than any other chick i’ve been with— shit, any chick on the island—“

a bittersweet smile graced your lips. rafe noticed they were devoid of any pink or gloss. you really got out of bed just to come and take care of him? that’s gotta mean something.

“c’mon, doll face… gimme a reason y’shouldn’t.”

his words trailed off into contented hums when you started to scratch his scalp. boys are so easy. but boys aren’t rafe.

“i’m a bitch.” the resignation in your voice was telling. being a bitch, being called one wasn’t something new to you. these days you accepted the word with pride, reclaiming it in a sense. but you knew rafe, kook boys, and hell even pogue boys didn’t want a bitch. you were too much for most people.

the scoff he let out made you smile, cheeks dimpling and fingers twisting his hair. he shook his head with a frown and rested a large hand on your waist.

“nooo, y’not.” the words punctuated with a squeeze.

“i am—“

rafe reached up and cupped the back of your neck, silencing any chance to speak or protest. you know what that touch meant: ‘i’m talking now’.

“you’re beautiful. and— and smart and good.” his whispered words are drunken and mumbled. but you felt like your heart might explode, a heat pushing through your veins and replacing the blood with rafe.

rafe, rafe, rafe.

“best girl i know... yeah?” he urges, squeezing the back of your neck. your heart thumps faster at the pressure. you nod, because what else can you do when he speaks to you like that?

with a satisfied hum, he smiles. the action completely softens his face and it blows you away every time. you’re pressed closer, leaning over him, and he’s staring at you like he can’t believe you’re real.

“that’s my girl…”

you can’t tell who leans in first, but soon you’re locking lips with your best friend. something that shouldn’t be familiar and exhilarating as it is, but continues to be every single time. the kiss that you share is more gentle than you two have ever been with each other. in your complicated relationship, it was always hot and rough.

but this… this was slow and comforting. he tasted like whiskey and you let your lips part just slightly, a tentative lick of his tongue into the warmth of your mouth made you feel weak.

rafe was alight with want. he’d always wanted you. wanted to be in your presence. wanted to hear your voice. wanted to have you beneath him. wanted to be beneath you. he wanted it all. maybe it was the whiskey talking, but nothing had ever felt more right than when your hand cupped his cheek and your lips where on his.

“you should sleep…” your voice was hardly recognizable, soft and hesitant against his lips. he didn’t have to to ask, you knew he wanted you to stay. and you know you couldn’t have left if you wanted to.

so, you let him wrap his arms around you and nestled into his neck. and when he starts to snore like he always denies he does, you felt like things might be okay. despite it all, he was gonna be your rafe.

[sanguineterrain]

restroom attendant | jason todd

Summary: Tonight is the worst night ever--you just got dumped on your birthday, and all you want to do is cry in the restaurant bathroom in peace. That is, until, the Red Hood bursts in. This city just won't cut you a break.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings/tags: humor, mild angst, reader's ex-bf cheats and dumps her, jason is such a silly goose, flirting, meet ugly, canon-typical violence, awkward jason, comic relief dick grayson.

A/N: this is probably the silliest fic i've ever written LOL! i hope you guys enjoy it. please support your local jason todd enthusiast and reblog :)

the divider

Tonight sucks. 

With a shaky hand, you attempt to soothe your swollen eyes. You’ve probably been in here for about twenty minutes. Your Uber has definitely left, as has your now ex-boyfriend of three years. 

Yoga instructor. It’s always the yoga instructor. They’re always fucking the yoga instructor.

You swallow a mouthful of tears and phlegm and try not to let the wet sink touch your dress. All you’d wanted was a little class on your birthday, maybe have some wine and play footsie under the table with your boyfriend. But no. That would’ve been too easy for you. 

You’re starting to think this city is cursed.

The door slams open. The force of it shakes the bathroom, rattles the mirrors. You spin around.

A man slides across the floor and smacks his head on the opposite wall. Red Hood appears in the doorway, the eyes of his helmet glowing eerily. 

Yep. Definitely cursed.

"Let's try this again," Hood says pleasantly, reloading his gun with a fresh magazine. "And in the interest of making myself transparent: when I ask you a question, Jerry, I expect a truthful answer."

He stalks over to Jerry and heaves him up by the lapels of his suit jacket. Hood's biceps bulge as he holds Jerry against the wall. You squish yourself against the sink. Water soaks the back of your dress. 

"You're crazy, I didn't do anything!" Jerry shouts, feet barely scraping the floor. 

"Volume, Jerry. People are trying to enjoy their meals.”

“Let go of me, Hood! I wasn’t anywhere near the Iceberg Lounge!”

“Yeah, see, words are coming outta your mouth, but they don't match the fact that I have three people who put you at the scene. How can we remedy this inconsistency? Any ideas?"

Jerry squirms, but he's no match for Hood's strength. Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Don't give me to the cops!" Jerry begs. 

"Cops are the least of your worries right now," Hood snarls. "You're damn lucky Nightwing wants to talk to you, Jerry, or your head would hurt a lot more."

Slowly, you reach for your purse, trying to pull out your phone. Instead, you knock it to the floor. Tears gather in your eyes because this night just can’t cut you a break.

“Motherfucker,” you whisper. 

Hood turns, those frightening white eyes now on you. Jerry also looks at you, legs still dangling.

“Hey,” Hood says without a sign of struggle. “Shit. Y'alright? Did I swipe ya?”

“No,” you say, voice shaky.

His posture softens. “Okay. I’m not gonna hurt you. Don’t be afraid.”

“I believe you. But, um… you're in the women's bathroom.”

Red Hood gives the room a onceover. 

“Huh. So we are. Dunno how that happened.” He shakes Jerry by the collar. “Why’d you run into the women’s bathroom, asshole?”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't kill me!” Jerry wails. 

“Shut it, Jesus. I'm not gonna kill you. Not yet, anyway.” 

“It's fine, I was just leaving,” you say, bending down to get your purse. 

“Hey, no, don't let me push you out,” Hood says. “Sorry. I'll be gone in a couple minutes.”

Hood adjusts his grip so Jerry's face is against the wall, arms and legs restrained. Then he zipties Jerry and sits him down hard on the floor. Hood presses a button on his helmet. 

“Yo, N, I'm at Prescott's. Yeah, with Jerry. No, I didn't tell him to run in here, he did that all on his own! Well, I chased him for ten blocks, so I’d prefer if you’d keep your bitching to yourself. Thank you… Okay, we're in the women's bathroom, so—well, I didn't do it on purpose! No, I’m—will you just come here? There’s a side window.” Hood presses the button again with a grunt. “Dickhead.”

“Are you gonna erase my memory?” you ask. 

Hood jerks, turning back to you.

“What? Hell no, I'm not gonna erase your memory. I don't do that shit, I promise.”

You slump against the sink. “That's too bad. I would prefer it.”

He looks up from Jerry’s last ziptie and pulls it extra tight. Jerry whimpers. 

“How come?” Hood asks.

You shake your head. “It's nothing.”

“Hm. Doesn't look like nothing. If you're in danger—”

“I'm not in danger. I…”

You glance at Hood. You can't see his face, but his body language seems genuine. From what you've heard, Hood isn't known for mincing words or doing things he doesn't want to. And he’s good to Gothamites. Well, the law-abiding ones, anyway. He’s even been endorsed by Batman.

What's the harm in telling him about your disastrous night? Not like you'll see him again. Or Jerry. 

“I got dumped,” you say. 

“Ah.” Hood nods. “Been there.”

Somehow, the idea of Red Hood getting dumped is weirder than him beating up a guy in the women’s bathroom of Prescott’s.

You sniffle, and wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, um. It was our three year anniversary today. He took me here, told me he was in love with his yoga instructor, and then left.”

You tear up thinking about it. Hood makes a quiet noise.

“Shit. Well, I haven't been there,” he says. “But I know infidelity. I'm sorry. Dudes are trash.”

“And it's my birthday today,” you blurt, sniffling. 

“Happy birthday,” Jerry says, clutching his stomach. 

“What a fucking asshole!” Hood snarls, and lets go of Jerry, who crumples like a sack of potatoes. He’s out cold in a second, frozen on the floor.

Your brows rise. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. It’s his first time in Gotham.” Hood shrugs. “Anyway, where was I? Right, your asshole ex. Like it's not enough to publicly dump you, and then he goes and does it on your birthday? Who is this guy? I'll go talk to him right now.”

You laugh a loud, snorting laugh. It bounces off the tiles. 

Hood tilts his head. “What’d I say?”

You catch your breath and wave your hand. 

“No, nothing, I’m sorry. I’ve just had a crappy night and that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever offered to me.”

“I mean it,” Hood says. “I’ll scare him if you want.”

“As tempting as that is, I don’t want to be an accessory to a crime.”

You also don’t want to put your ex in the ICU, no matter how much he might deserve it. Best to let the universe do its thing.

“You’d be acquitted, don’t worry.” Hood leans against the stall. “I’d never letcha go to jail.”

You smile, your ears growing warm. “You don’t even know me. What if I deserve it?”

“Nah. I got a good sense about people. I can tell you’re sweet. Probably don’t even run through red lights.”

“I try not to,” you say, heat spreading to your face. 

“Yeah, a good girl. I figured as much.”

Your eyes widen. Hood coughs and rubs his neck. Even his coughs sound intimidating through the helmet, but that’s negated by his scrunched-up posture.

“Fuck. Sorry. That wasn’t a come-on,” he says. “I mean, it sounded like one, but I’m realizing what a creep I am, flirting with you in a bathroom with a zip-tied criminal. Sorry.” He shakes his head. “I hate myself.”

You grin. “It’s okay. You made my night better, actually. Thanks.”

“That’s a testament to how terrible your night’s been if I made it better.”

You shrug. “Could always be worse. I bet Jerry had an even shittier night than me.”

“You’d win that bet. But I—”

The window swings open with a clunk. Nightwing pops his head in. He looks at Hood, then you. 

“Uh,” he says. “Evening. What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is it took you almost ten minutes to get here,” Hood says, back in Vigilante Mode. “Did you get lost?”

Nightwing smiles with all his teeth. “I was actually cleaning up your mess at the Bowery, Hood. You’re welcome.” 

He looks at you. “Hi. Sorry about this. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. If there’s anything we can reimburse you for…”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. My night was already sunk. Don’t worry about it. Thanks for keeping Gotham safe.”

Nightwing laughs. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Alright, enough chattering, Dickwing,” Hood says. “Take him.”

He lifts the unconscious Jerry, pushing him up to the window. He does so effortlessly, his jacket riding up to reveal his skin-tight jumpsuit. 

You look away before he catches you staring. There’s definitely something wrong with you. 

Nightwing takes Jerry and waves at you. Then he disappears.

“So, uh,” Hood says. “I gotta go.”

“Oh! Right, of course. Sorry to keep you.”

“Now what’re you apologizing for?” he asks, and it almost sounds like a tease. You wonder what his smile looks like. What color his eyes are.

“Well, I really didn’t mean to keep you…”

“You didn’t keep me,” Hood says, and you can hear the warmth even through his decoder. “This is probably the best arrest I’ve ever made.”

He starts to climb through the window, then stops. He digs into one of the pockets of his belt and pulls out a scrap of paper. 

“This is my number,” he says. “Well, it’s kind of the vigilante hotline. But you can reach me here, in case you ever need help.”

Hood walks over to give it to you. He smells like gunpowder and oranges. He’s even larger this close, the width of his shoulders dwarfing you. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

He nods and backs up, clapping his hands.

“Right. So I’ll go… Bye.”

Hood looks at you for a moment more. Then he hops up onto the window sill and slides out, somehow graceful despite his bulk. The window closes. 

Your dress has dried, which is nice. You walk out of the bathroom. It’s a miracle no one else has come in. 

You get your coat and this time, when you see the empty seat across from yours, you don’t burst into tears, which is progress. You call another Uber and go to wait for it at the front. The hostess approaches you.

“Ma’am?” she says, and holds out a small, plastic container. In it is a slice of tiramisu. 

“I didn’t order this,” you say.

“It was called in and paid for by a Mr. R.H. He wishes you a happy birthday.” 

“Oh. Thank you.”

You’re definitely leaving a five-star review on Yelp.

[no-144444]

was it casual?-l.norris

Day 28 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: the seriousness of your relationship wasn't exactly clear... leading to unforseen circumstances... (18+)

mdni (18+ smut) (ur responsible for the content you consume, not me)

୨ৎ���୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He walked into his empty apartment. Monaco was a town where you either knew people, or you didn’t. He knew people, but people knew him more. Max F was busy, Carlos was in Spain with family, Oscar was over in England to see Lily, Alex was off supporting Lily in a tournament, George was with Carmen in Austria, Max (V) was too busy with streaming and fighting the FIA, and that left him all alone. 

His life had been getting quieter since the start of last season. People checked in less, his mental health went downhill, everyone has their eyes on him now. It had been months of lonely interactions, wasted opportunities, and a job that was slowly ripping him apart. He had to win, he had to be the best. 

Then there was a knock at the door. The tension in his shoulders dissipated, a smile made its way onto his lips, and he forgot about his troubles. 

You were here. 

He opened the door with a bright smile, and there you stood with his favourite takeout. The only person who made him feel normal. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled, letting you in. You stepped inside, placing the food on the table. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but better now,” you smiled and pressed your lips to his softly. “You?”

His heart warmed slightly. He never thought he’d be one of those guys. One of those guys who loved their girlfriend 7 months in, but here he was, heart eyes and all. 

“Busy, but better now,” he replied. You chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“What’d you do?” You asked. 

“Some simming, training, meetings and other boring shit,” He yawned. “Tired now.”

You nodded. 

“You?”

“Down in court today, Rich is doing well, I think the judge likes us,” you explained, mindlessly picking the carrots out of his dish and putting them in your own. “Don’t know if we’ll win though.”

“You will,” he answered definitively. “You’re the best solicitor ever.”

“I’m not a full solicitor yet,” you reminded him. 

“Still the best,” he shrugged. 

“Come on sleepyhead, have some food and we can go to bed,” you chuckled. He sat beside you at the table, and you two chatted about your days, not even bothering to clean up before collapsing into his bed. 

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You two had met at a bar in Monaco, you were friendly with Pietra due to a few yoga classes you’d done together, and Lando had been obsessed with you since then. You’d gone on a few dates that mostly ended with you in his bed or vice versa, and recently it had turned into more of a relationship. He hadn’t asked you out yet. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You hadn’t been on a proper date in months. It was confusing. You thought it was just casual. You really liked him, but he thought this was just casual, didn’t he? I mean, what would an F1 driver want with a regular law student in Monaco just starting her traineeship? He wasn’t your boyfriend, right? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You woke up with his arms around you, and quickly shuffled out of his bed. You got dressed, cleaned up after dinner from the night before, and off you went. Saturday, you had a lunch date with a few friends, and some errands to run. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando woke up cold and alone. It wasn’t crazily unusual for him to wake up alone when you’d stay over, but you’d usually tell him that you had an early morning, or something to stop you two from having a lazy morning. He checked the time, 10am. You must’ve left recently. He cursed himself for being such a heavy sleeper, and for sleeping so well when you were with him. He shot you a text about tonight. He knew it was slightly pathetic that he didn’t have anyone else to hang out with other than his busy girlfriend, but he didn’t really care. It was a great chance as well, since his parents were in town and might be able to swing by dinner. He knew it was early on, but he loved you, and he planned on telling you soon. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

A knock on the door, a familiar routine. He should probably give you a key. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled. 

“Hey Lando,” you smiled. “Sorry I was later than usual, the traffic was crazy and I didn’t want to cancel on you and-”

“So this is the girlfriend?” Adam, Lando’s dad, asked, a bright smile on his face. Your face fell. His parents were sitting right there, staring at you, looking at you, and they thought you were his girlfriend. He must’ve thought someone else was behind the door, maybe he’d cancelled and you didn’t get the text and his actual girlfriend was behind you and you were about to be kicked out and blocked, maybe-

“This is her,” Lando smiled, ushering you in. You shot him a look of confusion. He shot you one back. He took your coat and bag, and led you over to the table with a kiss on the cheek, his parents watching the whole display. 

“So Y/n, what do you do?” Cisca asked. 

“I’m a solicitor in training,” you explained. “Sorry that I was late, the traffic was insane and my firm is across the-”

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “We only got here 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, good,” you chuckled nervously. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

And with that, the dinner began. It was a maze of questions, jokes, and slight teasing, but by the end, you’d thought you did quite well. They didn’t seem to completely hate you yet, so that was good. As Lando closed the door on them, you put your head in your hands and groaned. 

“I’m sorry I sprung that on you, it’s just… they were in town, a-and they wanted to meet you so badly-”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “I just… I didn’t know I was your girlfriend,” you told him honestly. 

His eyes darkened, a hint of possessiveness playing behind them. “How did you not think you were my girlfriend?” “Well, for one, you never fucking asked me to be your girlfriend. Two, it doesn’t exactly make sense considering I’m just a law student, and you’re a fucking F1 driver. Three-” he cut you off with a kiss. 

He kissed you hard and heavy, pulling you into his arms, his grip bordering on bruising. “Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obliged, jumping and wrapping your legs around his torso. He brought you to his bedroom, all but throwing you on the bed and rushing to take off his clothes as you took off yours. He got to work, finger swirling through your core as he watched your reactions. 

“So good Lan,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You fuck anyone else?” he asked, harshly scissoring his fingers into your entrance. 

“No-fuck- j-just you. Only you-shit!” you moaned. 

He smirked, lowering his face to your pussy. “Good girl,” he quipped, kissing at your clit as you moaned his name. You were his, he was yours. He needed to remind you of that. 

You were hot all over, desperate to finally get that release, but he was going too slowly. “Lan, quicker, please,” you whined, more than needy. You tugged at his hair, grinding down on his face as he smirked. It felt fucking amazing, his nose, his tongue, all of it. It was too much and too little all at the same time. You whined in frustration at the loss of contact when he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied. He flipped you over, ass in the air on his bed and smacked your ass. “Lan-!”

Buried to the hilt in one thrust. Lando was clearly not fucking around tonight. “You’re doing so well baby.” he smirked. “Want you to cum on my cock.”

You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from you. 

“My fucking girl, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moaned. 

“Fuck, good fucking girl, y’gonna cum on my cock?” 

“Yes! Yes!” you groaned, muffled by the sheets. 

“Who’s fucking you right now?” he thrust harder, messily kissing your neck. 

“You!” you screamed, getting closer and closer to your high. 

“And what am I to you sweetheart?” he gritted out. 

“M-my boyfriend!” you finally came around him, walls tightening as you moaned. He came shortly after, groaning as he pulled out of you. 

“You alright?” he asked, a bright smile on his face. You nodded softly, too exhausted to speak. “Did so good,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and left to grab some glasses of water, and a towel to clean you both up with.  It wasn’t just casual.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi @linnygirl09 @lanadelray1989 @teamnovalak @gleeblegnarp

[miss-celestial-being]

jake peralta going on a blind date that boyle set up but she’s actually completely his type

literally the love of my life tysm for the request

-

"No. No. No. No. No. No. No. And did I mention, no!" Jake says exasperatedly. "You see, I knew you would say that which is why I already set up the date with her." Charles rebuttals. He tells him your name as he taps rhythmically on Jake's desk. "She's thirty-two, she loves herself some Tay-Tay, and her favorite soup is crab bisque. I met her in my hot goat yoga class." "Ew, what." "Yeah, I'm hearing how that sounds now. But still, I think you'd like her. Who knows, by the end of the night you may just be smushing booties." Jake groans, "God, Boyle, don't say smushing booties." "Right, yeah, yep," He picks up the file from Jake's desk, turning to the man as he walks away, "Shaw's Bar, 8 o'clock."

Charles turns back around and bumps into Terry as he walks to his desk. He groans as he crushes his yogurt cup in his hand, "Damnnit, Boyle." "Sorry," He says as he backs toward the exit of the bullpen. He rapidly clicks the close button once inside the elevator, evading Terry's angry gaze. "Jake sighs as he looks back at his computer.

"So, hot date tonight, huh?" Amy asks as she leans around their computers to smirk smugly at him. "Uhm, no. I'm not going," He says, his eyes not leaving the screen as he types mindlessly. "What? Why not? Charles says she's perfect for you." "Exactly: Charles thinks she's perfect for me. Knowing him she's either some hot goat yoga-loving freak, or-" "Or actually perfect for you. I think you should give it a shot. I mean, you're constantly complaining about how horribly dull your love life is," Jake frowns, "Hey, now, I wouldn't say horrible dull-" "Yes you would, and you have. Now no more fighting, you have a date to get ready for." Jake looks at the time at the bottom right corner of his monitor and sighs, "All right, fine. But when this all goes to total shit, I'm blaming you." Amy rolls her eyes with a grin and opens the next file from her stack as Jake makes his way to the elevator.

-

The bell rings as Jake opens the door to Shaw's Bar, his free hand shoved in his jacket pocket. The warm, boozy bar air fills his nostrils as he steps toward the bar, the glass door closing slowly behind him. He looks around the bar, hoping to instantly recognize the mystery woman, to no avail.

The bell rings again as Jake asks Hank for an orange soda on the rocks. The bartender sighs exhaustedly as he pulls the Crush can out of the mini fridge from behind the bar. "Jake?" A voice asks as someone taps him on the shoulder. He turns around, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish as his brain short-circuits. "Or not?" You laugh awkwardly, "I'm really sorry about this, I was told someone would be here, but it looks like he stood me up." You sit one chair over at the bartop, sighing as you rest your chin on your fist.

"Hi," Jake says as he hold out his hand, "I'm Jake." "Oh," You breathe, "Sorry. You didn't say anything and I just thought- Y'know what, never mind, I'm probably not what you were expecting." Jake smiles, "Well, you're right there. Charles told me he met you in a 'hot goat yoga class'." You cringe slightly, "I honestly didn't even know his name, I walked into the wrong building and he started talking to me about his friend Jake." "Sounds about right." You both laugh and he moves to the chair between you.

"So, my weird friend tells me you like Taylor Swift," Jake starts and the conversation lasts hours, the orange soda on the countertop left completely ignored. "All right, time to wrap it up. The bar's closing." Hank says as he wipes the counter. "Oh my god, how long have we been here?" Jake asks him, surprised. The bartender ignores him as he moves on to another part of the bar. You look around to find the bar completely empty.

You laugh quietly, "This was fun," You say softly as you exit the bar, "We should do this again-" You're cut off by a sudden surprising kiss, Jake's hands holding your cheeks gently to keep you close. Your eyes flutter closed and take the collar of his shirt in your fists. He pulls away, mumbling out a quick 'noice' before getting pulled back into a kiss that leaves him gasping for breath.

-

ik this ended abruptly but its a school night and i have to go to bed so this is as good as we're getting today

i really hope you liked this bc jake has been on my mind for ages and i couldnt find many fics here sadly

dont hesitate to request more

[worldsover]

In Motion

~3.4k words, massage, gym sex, your personal training client!Jisoo

(for @sooyadelicacies, a quick bfh)

Jisoo flows through various yoga poses with grace and strength, her toned body clad in form-fitting pants. Despite the late hour, you made an exception for Jisoo tonight; she's worth it. As she holds a challenging lunge, her thighs quivering from the effort, you admire her determination—one of the reasons why you cleared your schedule for this session. Besides, it's technically Saturday now, so staying up to watch her is justifiable since you'd be working at home anyway. It definitely has nothing to do with wanting to appreciate the curve of her hips, or the arch of her back, or the way her ponytail sways as she moves into different positions, revealing the elegant line of her neck. Definitely not. Who would stay up this late just to watch someone sweat? Or to admire the sight of them in a sports bra, revealing their cleavage? Certainly not you.

"I saw that you landed that yoga sponsorship. It suits you perfectly," you comment, catching a whiff of her jasmine-scented shampoo as she walks by for weighted squats. Your eyes linger on her backside before you correct her form.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on Jisoo's forehead after finishing a set. "Thank you!" she pants, her chest rising and falling with exertion. "I never thought I'd be working out this late." Her laughter fills the room and warms your heart.

The distant rumble of a sports car breaks your focus. Living just steps away from Elysium Fitness, these interruptions are common in such an expensive neighborhood. "Don't worry about him. Just showing off," you reassure Jisoo with a smile, and she chuckles in response.

As the night wears on, the bright white lights are replaced with warmer, softer lamps that are easier on the eyes. But the harsh lights of the city at night still seep through, casting a neon glow over everything. Your breathing matches the thuds of feet and weights hitting the floor as you both lie on mats for core work. You guide Jisoo through planks and leg raises until you're both exhausted. With each movement, her top rides up and exposes more of her toned abs, testing your self-control. You've worked with plenty of beautiful actresses and models with stunning bodies, but there's something about Jisoo that sets her apart.

During a break to sip water, Jisoo offers you a taste of her strawberry-flavored drink. The sweetness catches you off guard and elicits another giggle from her. Her laughter quickens your pulse in a way no workout ever could.

"Rough day on set?" you ask.

She lets out a sigh. Sitting on the floor, she leans back and supports herself with her arms behind her. Her chest rises and falls, covered in sweat. "Not just work," she responds. "I broke up with him."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really? Isn't he still your co-star?"

"Yep." She pops her lips, and you nod sympathetically at the awkwardness of the situation.

As you help her up after a strenuous set, your hands brush against her stomach and back. At that moment, your eyes meet hers in an intense gaze as she leans into you for support. Company policy strictly forbids personal involvement with clients, but denying Jisoo is impossible. The city lights seem to dance across her glistening skin, mixing with the scent of her perfume.

"I'm here whenever you want to talk," you offer, gently massaging the tension from her shoulders as she relaxes into your touch. "You know I'm ready to help with whatever I can."

She takes a deep breath before responding. "I know. That's why I like you." Your heart skips a beat at her words, and time seems to stand still as the sounds of your exertion fade away.

You try not to gulp. "You know, I actually have my massage license. So if you need me to work out anything else... promise I won't charge extra."

Jisoo stays still for a moment, then nods. "I think I like the sound of that."

Together, the two of you walk towards the massage rooms. The gym is quiet and empty at this late hour, a stark contrast to its usual bustling energy during peak hours. As you enter, the sounds of grunting and heavy breathing are replaced by soft jazz music playing from the speakers. You close and lock the door behind you for privacy, even though it's unlikely that anyone will disturb you in this peaceful haven.

But then you remember and go back to lock the door. "Hey, if you want to change in the locker room—"

"Keep it locked."

The air is thick with tension as you wait for her to undress, every part of your body buzzing with anticipation. She begins by removing her shoes, then slowly pulls down her pants, revealing long and toned legs. It feels like she's putting on a show for you, yet she still blushes and you look away out of respect. Her sports bra is the last thing to come off; you bite your cheek to avoid staring as she hands it over without meeting your gaze. Now wearing only a pair of panties, Jisoo lays face down on the table with a heavy sigh.

You start massaging her shoulders, feeling the gentle give of the springs beneath her weight. Your hands continue to move lower until they reach the small of her back where you pause for a moment, taking in a deep breath. You catch a whiff of sweat mixed with jasmine from her shampoo and a hint of strawberries from her flavored water. Her skin glistens with perspiration and you quickly grab some massage oil from the cupboard, generously pouring it onto your hands before returning to her. The shine of her fair skin, now glimmering with oil and muscle definition, has your breath catching in your throat. You continue kneading, now using oil to glide your hands all over her back, shoulders, neck—and you think you can hear her moaning softly, like a contented purr.

She turns over onto her back, exposing even more of herself to you. At first, she covers her breasts with one arm and avoids your gaze. But then she relaxes and lets her arms rest by her sides. Her breasts are small but perky and enticing. Her nipples are firm. You squirt out some more oil, slowly gliding it up and down her arms and legs until they shine in the warm dim light.

Jisoo lets out a soft moan as your skilled hands work their way deeper, releasing any tension or stress she may have had. It's almost like a mockery to her, the way you only touch her limbs. Your gaze wanders over her body, tracing curves that you've only ever imagined caressing before. She tilts her back slightly, seemingly inviting you to explore her chest. But you resist, choosing instead to focus on her shoulders, collarbones, and sides—purposely teasing her with your careful touches. You maintain the facade of a professional masseur, suppressing your desires for now.

She turns back onto her stomach and you can't help but notice how her beautiful butt jiggles slightly as she settles in again.

Once more, you start from her shoulders and work your way down her back. This time, she shudders as you continue massaging downwards, stopping just above the top of her thighs. You lean forward to whisper in her ear, "Would it be okay if I moved a little lower?" Your voice is husky with nervousness and desire as your fingertips brush against the smooth skin above where her panties sit.

She nods slowly, biting her lip nervously as she exhales heavily through clenched teeth. As your hands knead at her thighs, she moans louder this time. "C-can you take off my panties? They're...starting to feel uncomfortable," she whispers. Like she's too embarrassed to admit it aloud.

"Of course," you say, and your finger hooks into the waistband. Lowering, carefully, you peel her panties down her legs, and watch in awe: her pussy is soaked. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Mhm," she moans, whiny. "Just help me relax, please."

Without fabric in the way, you can really sink your digits into her backside properly. You can feel every ridge of her spine, every indent of muscle. You start to massage her glutes, circling and kneading them until you find that perfect spot. Her hips buck up involuntarily into your hands, begging for more as you bring relief to her tense body. You can't deny yourself anymore; your hands slowly creep towards her butt cheeks and then lower still. As you work on her legs, your fingers somehow find their way between them, teasing her inner thighs, earning another moan. The scent of her arousal fills the room, and it's almost too much for you. But you keep going, kneading, caressing, rubbing away all that pent-up tension. Your heart pounds in your chest as your thumb brushes against her clit, earning a tiny gasp from her lips. She's wet and hot to the touch.

"How's that?" you ask quietly.

"Good," she breathes out between ragged breaths. "So good... keep going."

That single brush becomes more purposeful, strokes of your fingers along her folds. She grips the edge of the table tightly, trembling under your touch like it's somewhere between pain and pleasure, but listen to her whimpering—it's all pleasure, and any pain is at your restraint.

"Please. More."

You nod, feeling your heart race in your chest. Your fingers find their way to her core and gently part her folds as Jisoo sighs heavily. Her labia is swollen and wet, begging for attention, but you take your time, teasing them with the tip of your index finger before plunging inside her. She cries out softly, arching her back into the table. Your middle finger joins the first one inside her, stretching her tightness with a gentle pressure that she welcomes eagerly. Her mouth falls open in a silent 'O' shape and she grinds against your hand, seeking more. You smile against her back as you watch your fingers disappear into her hot, tight heat and begin to move them in and out in slow, steady strokes. Her pussy clenches around them, milking your fingers as you continue massaging her thighs and glutes. You can't help but taste a droplet of sweat on her skin and lick it clean, savoring the mix of saltiness and jasmine on your tongue.

Jisoo's moans grow louder now as you work your fingers deeper inside her while still massaging her outer thighs; she trembles under your touch as you apply just enough pressure to hit all the right spots at once. Your other hand reaches up to cup one of her breasts through the oil-covered skin, squeezing and rolling the nipple between your fingers while you pleasure her from below. She gasps at the mix of sensations before coming apart underneath you; warmth seeps through your fingertips as she climaxes hard behind you. Every muscle in her body tenses before relaxing with deep sighs that fill the room. Even then, you don't stop; instead of slowing down, you continue to stimulate her, not wanting this moment to end. Minutes pass before she starts to calm down, and when she does, she pants heavily with an afterglow that fills the room. Finally, you sit back on the table, looking down at your sexy client as she lies there completely naked before you. She catches her breath raggedly, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You wipe away the remaining oil with a towel, then grab some fresh ones for both of you.

"Thank you, oh, fuck, that was incredible." She makes eye contact with you. "Can you pass my clothes?"

You hand them over, your hands shaking a little as you watch her dress herself.

Suddenly, Jisoo grabs your hand. "I need to reward you for that."

"What? No, it's fine, that was plenty reward—"

But then she pulls you away, and you find yourself whisked through the empty gym once again—as an employee, you know this place like the back of your hand, but you have no idea where she's taking you.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't Jisoo on your lap while you were sitting on a gym bench in a squat rack. This position isn't in any of your training programs.

"Wh-why here? If there's anywhere someone could show up... I mean, there's always crazy busy bodybuilders..."

"Shh." Jisoo has a wicked grin. "Just relax."

If you had to wager a guess, it would be the mirrors—no room has more mirrors than the weight room. And you're thankful because you get to watch Jisoo work in her tight leggings and her sports bra. Though you're certain that watching is only secondary to the sensation of it all. Of Jisoo clawing at your sweatpants, rubbing over your bulge. It is a close second, however, seeing the sweat on her tits again, or the curves of her back or her butt.

Jisoo's kisses are gentle yet demanding, exploring every inch of your neck and chest as she leads the way. Her sweet panting against your skin adds to the forbidden feeling of being in a deserted gym at this hour. You slip your hands into her hair, running your fingers through the soft strands as she takes you deeper into her world with each slow, desperate lick along your muscles. You feel like you're being worshiped by her tongue, and you wonder how a goddess can worship. Her body presses against yours, grinding against your hardness through the fabric of your sweatpants while she teases you mercilessly. The warmth between her legs beckons you closer as she moans into your neck, inviting you to take what she so clearly wants to give.

Finally, she pulls back and looks up at you with a mix of desire and vulnerability in her eyes. "Please," she whispers, her voice raw with need. And before you can question it further, she pulls down your sweats and underwear together, freeing your erection from its confines. Her hands wrap around you, stroking slowly to test the waters as they glide up and down your length. You gasp at the sensation of her soft palms on your skin, feeling the calluses from hours of training mixed with her tender touch. Then she kneels down between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the bench with little effort. "You know how long I've been wanting to taste this?" Her rhetorical question has you imagining all the times in the past you've wanted to fuck her, all the times you've wanted to keep her bent over in her yoga pose and slid your cock inside.

You close your eyes as she takes you into her mouth, feeling a rush of pleasure as her warm breath tickles your skin. You grip the bar above her head tightly as she starts to move, her lips sliding up and down your length. You can't resist leaning back into her touch, enjoying the sensation of her tongue swirling around your head before taking more of you in.

Her hand gently squeezes your balls while the other plays with your perineum, sending waves of pleasure through you. The sounds of her sucking and slurping fill the room, making it difficult to keep quiet. As she gazes up at you with a smirk on her lips every few moments, you feel like the luckiest man alive.

You watch as she admires herself in the mirror while bobbing on your cock. Her eyes never leave yours as she starts to stroke herself through her leggings, the leather creaking beneath you both. "Fuck," she whispers before looking back up at you with determination. "I want you inside me."

She stands up and quickly removes her shoes, pants, and underwear. There's no teasing this time, just raw need and desire in her eyes. You wonder if this gym bench can handle the intensity she's about to bring. Gripping onto the bars of the squat rack next to you, Jisoo positions herself above you with ease. She spreads saliva over your erection with her small hands, but there is already ample wetness from her own arousal. Slowly inch by inch, she takes all of you inside until she's completely impaled on your cock. Her arms wrap around your neck and her eyes never leave yours as she moves her hips back and forth in a slow rhythm. The sound of the leather bench creaking only adds to the taboo excitement of the moment.

Her breasts sway with each thrust, brushing against your chest with each movement. You grab one firmly, feeling her nipple harden under your touch as she grinds down on you. Her breath hitches as she looks into your eyes again, both of you consumed by desire. It's exhilarating to see her like this: uninhibited and craving more.

A glance in the mirror confirms how wild this situation is—the two of you making love in an empty gym late at night—but it only adds to the intensity for both of you. You watch her body move above you with a mix of arousal and pride as her trainer. You know just how much effort she's put into maintaining her incredible figure, all the hard work and dedication despite her busy schedule and strict diet. And now, that same body is moving around your cock, her labia gripping onto you tightly. You thrust upwards to meet her movements, feeling her tight walls clenching and releasing around your length. Her eyes close as she leans forward, and you and Jisoo kiss passionately.

As you break the kiss, you say, "Show me how well you've learned your squats."

Jisoo smiles. "Of course." She slides up your cock, which slaps against your abs with a wet noise, covered in her slick. She turns around and gives you a full view of her backside. While you got a decent glimpse of it in the reflections, seeing it in full is like seeing a painting in person. Her neck, her shoulders, the muscles in her back. The hourglass shape along her waist and hips to her toned thighs. They're enough to end a man with sight alone—and then she lowers herself on your cock once again, riding you reverse cowgirl as you lean back, your hands behind your head, in the sexiest core workout of your life.

She grinds down on you, making you beg for release as her act of worship continues.

Your fingers find their way to her hips, guiding her rhythm as you watch the most beautiful woman you've ever seen grind on your lap. The sight of her ass cheeks bouncing, the sounds of wet flesh slapping against your cock, it's all too much. Her eyes flutter shut in pleasure and she tosses her head back, moaning your name loudly in the empty gym. Her movements become faster, and harder against your grasp as she slides up and down your length with ease.

"Fuck," she gasps between breaths, "you feel so good." You bite down on your bottom lip hard enough to stifle a groan of approval as she rides you like a champion athlete. "I'm gonna... Fuck!" she shouts, as her legs tremble.

You sit up and wrap your arms around her torso as her body begins to shake, and here, you fuck her through her orgasm. You can see her eyes rolling in the mirror, and by the time your lips are on her neck, you only see the whites. You fondle her breasts, thrust upward into her, and feel her melt into you. "That's it, cum on my cock."

Jisoo's moans get louder and louder. Slick warmth surrounds you as she cums, tightening around your cock. She feels so good that you can't help but lose control too, though you manage to pull out before you start to pulsate. Regaining some of her awareness, she clasps her thighs together around your shaft, and you pump into the delectable pressure and friction. Fucking her thighs, you spurting and spraying all over her legs, her midriff, and her tits. You can feel her soft pussy lips still throbbing in sympathy, and the two of you ride out your climaxes together for what feels like forever.

[dilfartist]

A foolish endeavor

Pairing; Yandere Miguel O’hara x reader

Synopsis; You manage to snag Miguel’s gizmo and escape to another universe. How long will it take before he, or the spider society, find you?

Word count; 2.8k

Reader description; Female/GN

TW; kidnapping, probably terrible spanish (i did use sources Spanish-speaking users suggested), non-con touching, yandere themes, dark writing.

Notes; {if i mistranslated any of the spanish please do contact me in my DMs. I wanted this fic to be better but I hope you enjoy it anyway. Did not proofread.}

Midnight coated New York in a dark blue hue. Most nights the city lights illuminate the darkness, providing the ability to see. However, the motel you find yourself ambling to is the more isolated part of the city.

Rain poured down heavily, producing cacophonous echoes of raindrops slamming against the concrete. Clad in a drenched hoodie and damp black yoga pants, you scurry to the other side of the street just in time to avoid being hit by the passing truck.

Cigarette smoke and frigid rain overwhelm your senses, mainly due to the cigarette buds scattered on the motel parking lot.

The motel is okay looking. By no means does it look nice, but it isn’t a hard no.

“Guess this is where I’ll sleep tonight,” you mumble to yourself. You take a brief glance at your surroundings. Night overcame the sky, giving the atmosphere a dark hue but the lights gave you a clear standpoint.

Numerous lights hummed irritatingly, not even a minute passed and you found yourself obtaining a headache. You navigate the main office, which is on the left side of the horseshoe-shaped building, and a blue neon sign points in the direction of the office. You started sauntering over, putting pep in your step when the cold rain declined heavier than it did the last five minutes.

Six months ago, you wouldn’t be having this problem. At least that’s what you believed. You could’ve been at your apartment, catching up on a show you’ve failed to complete thanks to your busy work schedule.

Unfortunately for you, doing a task as simple as watching your television, in your home, was truly impossible. Why? Because the earth you roam isn’t yours, to begin with. Your apartment isn’t yours. The job you work isn’t yours. You aren’t certain you even exist in this universe.

You can’t find the strength to complain. Honestly, you’re delighted to be away from the man who stole you away from society.

Miguel O’Hara.

Otherwise known as Spiderman 2099. You know, the superhero.

It must be confusing to hear that a superhero kidnaped a poor civilian. Superheros don’t normally commit unforgivable acts. Regardless, Miguel didn't care. Miguel is aware he is different from other heroes given his beliefs. Abducting you was just one of the many wrongs Miguel fulfilled.

You just wished you knew his motives at the beginning. If you did, you wouldn't have to search for sanctuary. You wouldn't have to lie low in a different universe.

Before Miguel, you lived a decent life that included a decent job. It was a Tuesday afternoon with sunny weather and clear skies. Your friends invited you to a picnic at the park and, for once having a clear schedule you agreed. You recall the sun beaming down on you, overheating your body to the point shade was a necessity. You moved from the picnic blanket to a nearby bent tree. One moment you're enjoying the shade, the next you're falling. Then something transpired. You jerked in the air, something white clinging to the front of your shirt. You felt your body floating in the air, legs thrashing in fear when your body conceded it was in mid-air.

You must have fainted because you have no recollection of what transpired next. What you do remember was watching through bleary eyes as four strangers hovered over you clearly disputing. Currently, you know them by Jessica Drew, Peter B. Parker, the iron spider, And Miguel O’Hara.

The accountability for your well-being somehow landed in the hands of Miguel. In the beginning, Miguel had such a short patience for you, not that he didn't possess an attitude with anyone else, he just happened to have a really short fuse with you.

His explosive temper with you was undeserving. You hardly gave him any reason to blow up. Your presence alone just pissed him off, at least it appeared so.

You avoided him as much as possible; Departing a room when he entered. Ensuring any errands were accomplished before he arrived home, so you didn't have to leave your room to aggravate him.

Then he began to seek you out; popping up wherever you were in his apartment. Alone watching television on the couch? Not anymore. Miguel joined you on the other side silently watching as well. Sitting silently in the dining room eating lunch? Miguel enters with a bowl of cereal, starting a conversation about the day’s news. Enjoy video games and decide to play by yourself? Miguel grabs a controller and questions the rules and certain controls.

For someone who was as snappy at you as a feral dog, he sure did like to invade your solitude.

By the second month of staying at Miguel’s, he found solace in your presence. He became relaxed. Nice even. And then by the fourth month, you became friends. You never visualized being anything other than friends, but unbeknownst to you, Miguel did.

When you first caught the news of Peter figuring out what universe you belonged to, you were ecstatic. After all, the mystery of your universe's number had been the sole reason for crashing with Miguel and not immediately returning home.

You turned to Miguel, asking when was the appropriate time to drop you off. To your astonishment, Miguel’s brows furrowed, and his lips morphed into a grimace, “you will not be returning.” he affirmed.

Miguel shocked not only you, but everyone witnessing the scene. A gauche silence conquered the atmosphere.

You and Miguel stared at each other for a beat, then you voiced your perplexity. “What do you mean “I will not be returning?” Miguel, I need to go home.” you took a step closer to Miguel.

Miguel gazed at you with an uninterested stare. “What I say goes, (Name). And I say you're staying here.” he spun around, returning to whatever he had been working on before. “We all have a busy schedule and dropping you off will only alter it.”

“It’s not worth it,” he said like he was ending the conversation.

“Okay, then Peter can take me home when he needs to drop off Mayday.” you insisted, looking over at Peter to see if he’d be alright with your plan.

No expression was needed for you to catch on to the attitude Miguel began to gain. “(Name), I won’t tell you twice. The answer is no. Now, Peter take her back to my apartment. We’ll speak about the matter later, at the moment there are more important issues happening.”

You found it laughable. To think the minute you stepped into the man's sight he wanted you gone, but now Miguel was fighting you to stay with him. Ironic, isn’t it?

That night you and Miguel, the very moment he came inside his apartment, quarreled for an hour in a half. Your argument being you did not belong to him and could do whatever you pleased. Miguel’s argument was the insignificance of the matter to him.

You detected Miguel’s temper was starting to get out of hand. The way his fists began to clench, the way his brows creased, and the frown deepened after every sentence he uttered. You’ve seen his strength. His fierceness. And you’d rather leave than have any of his tantrums directed at you. Doing what any rational person would do, you attempted to leave the room. You advised him to de-stress before speaking to you again.

Miguel was having none of it. Not even a second passed before you were yanked back by the forearm.

You’re face-to-face with Miguel. Miguel towered over you, looking down at you with his signature red piercing stare. He bends down, momentarily staring at you until he finally speaks. “I can't allow you to leave.” The way he talks is low and if the room weren't already quiet, you wouldn’t have heard him. “I love you,” he confessed, voice cracking, closing his eyes as if it pained him to say it. He opened his eyes again. “And I won't allow myself to lose any other person I care for.”

Pulling twenty dollars out of the torn-up wallet you found on the side of the road, you slide it forward on the mahogany brown table. The fatigued receptionist glances at the money, then gazes at you with an irked expression.

“This isn’t enough.” She states matter-of-factly. She slides the twenty back to you.

You purse your lips, staring down at the cash. Twenty dollars is all you had. What were you to do now? The next nearest motel could be miles away; it was a miracle you made it to this.

Your eyes flicker back to her. You take two fingers pushing it back to her, giving her your best puppy eyes. “Please! I don't have anywhere else to go tonight. If I can’t stay here I’ll have to sleep on the streets.”

You were lying. You would’ve taken off by dawn, needing to be on the move after getting rested.

Her hardened expression softens. She takes a deep breath, eyes studying the money. Shaking her head, she takes the cash. “One night only, alright?”

You propose to her a smile, nodding with gratitude. She allotted you a key. A small golden-greenish key, with the number five engraved on the head. Tonight you’d sleep on the grounded floor of the motel.

The inside was decently prepared, having a dingy tone that gave off a haunted vibe. You hum in displeasure. Two queen-sized mattresses are positioned on the right side of the wall. They appeared stiff, and the blankets laying upon them looked thinner than a sheet of paper.

Sighing, you softly booted the door shut. Flopping down on the nearest bed, you groan at the sensation of the rough mattress.

When tomorrow comes you’d have to find a fresh location. Miguel could continually find your locale, thanks to not only Lyla but the whole Spider society. Perhaps you postponed his search this time. His watch or gizmo- whatever the hell it was- rests on your wrist.

Shifting your head to the side, pulling your hand out of your pocket, you glance at the gizmo.

Tightly clutched in Miguel’s hold, you stare quietly at the ceiling. You debate acting on your next actions. There were times Miguel slept lightly, aroused by creaks in the floorboard. Other times when the sound of glass shattering did not bother him even a little.

Glancing down at the arm wrapped securely around your midriff, you endeavor to gradually lift his arm up. He unconsciously retaliates, arms consolidating, resulting in a small gasp slipping from your lips. You’re quick to rub his arm, to offer him comfort, and to calm him.

It works. Miguel grumbles, his grasp faulting. You carefully move his arm aside, then unhurriedly get up from the bed.

Before leaving the room you observe Miguel. Miguel sleeps soundly, an angry expression inscribed on his face. But he is asleep, so you take your chance while you are able.

Tiptoeing into the kitchen, you immediately spot the gizmo on the marble counter. Compared to the technology you have at home, it was top-notched, a huge improvement. Of course, he lived in the year 2099. Obviously, there would be a difference in technology.

You grabbed the gizmo, examining the complexity. From monitoring the spider people using them, you know it’ll take you wherever universe you request. Great. However, you weren’t a spider person. If you teleported in the middle of the air, you couldn't grapple on the closest object with a web. Or claw your way down a building

Fuck it.

If dying meant escaping him, then so be it.

You didn’t really mean that. Every time you went to teleport to a different universe, you cringed retreating your hand.

“Jesus! Alright, I'm doing this!” you softly berated yourself. Bracing for the impact of the possible fall you might face, you shut your eyes tight and twisted the gizmo. “Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground, Please be on the ground!” you cried.

How long would it take them to find you? How far could you get?

God, being on the run was stressful.

Your eyes flutter closed, plush pillows luling your tired mind. ‘I should get some sleep’ you thought. Warmth spread throughout your numbing body, as you finally permitted yourself to sleep.

When you awake gasping for air, almost as if you’d been suffocating. Instantly you arise, a hand rushing to your chest confirming it still thumped with a beating heart. Your skin is sticky with cold sweat, making your clothes uncomfortably cling to your body. “What the fuck?” you barely uttered, mouth arid.

Suddenly you had a gut feeling to check the window. You stand, groggily walking toward the large window adjacent to the front door. Pinching the hem of the curtain, you haul it aside.

The night is still pristine, the stars glowing in the dark sky. Nothing seems out of place. And yet you continue to have that gut feeling. Look outside, there’s something outside. Your eyes move to the parking lot.

You see it.

Blue and red. Something blue and red is making its way toward the motel. Squinting, you can make out what it is. Miguel. It's Miguel!

“Oh, shit!” you expressed, dropping the curtain. Wasting no time you locked the bottom and top locks. You veered around, frantically searching for a place to hide. You are no fool. Locking the door was simply a distraction; Miguel would tear the door off its hinges in a second.

Hiding underneath the bed is a childish strategy. That and hiding underneath the covers. Still, you drop to your knees, squeezing underneath the bed, using the blankets to cover any spaces revealing you. Pressing the palm of your hand against both your mouth and nose, you listen closely to everything around you.

At first, all you hear is the air conditioning blowing cool air, and the people next door’s baby weeping. Then you hear it. The doorknob oscillation. Your eyes widen, fear causing your breath to hitch. When the door refuses to open, the person behind the door commences kicking in the door. One kick achieves them access to the room. The door slams against the wall, shaking the ground, sending a vibration under you.

“¿Qué carajo?” you know that voice anywhere. It’s Miguel speaking in his native language. A habit Miguel has when he’s angered or stressed. “¿Dónde está ella?” Miguel snaps, striding into the room with anger-powered steps.

You can see through the tiny slit in the blankets, Miguel turning to the table where you placed the gizmo. Miguel picks up the gizmo, putting it back on his wrist.

He shifts his concentration to finding you. He calls out your name, malice dripping from the way he shouts it. He disappears from sight, presumingly moving on to the bathroom. Many things are heard being tossed around. Miguel probably was looking for evidence of you staying here, apart from the gizmo.

You gather the courage to, oh, so carefully stretch your leg out, then proceed to quietly shuffle from under the bed. You waste no time, rushing out the door, feet bare without socks or shoes. The gravel burns the soles of your feet, scraping and imprinting on the skin.

You practically succeeded in leaving the lot until you caught a glimpse of what stalked behind you. On all fours, Miguel sprinted at you, claws scuffing the concrete, like a predator running after its prey.

“Holy shit! What the actual fuck!” you panic aloud, taking your eye off what was in front of you, your mind solely focusing on the man hunting you. Big mistake on your part. A concrete parking block is in your way, but you don’t see it. You jolt forward, tripping over the block, your other foot catching you before you hit the road.

Just when you thought you still had the chance of running away, you’re sorely mistaken. Miguel pounces on you, and the clash of your bodies colliding results in Miguel tumbling down the road, you secure in his arms.

The tumble ends; you’re struggling not to vomit, head resting on Miguel’s firm chest. The world spins. It’s easy to forget your position when the urge to throw up is fresh.

Miguel holds your head, pressing a myriad of kisses on every part of the skin visible, muttering with his eyes closed. “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.” He sounds so frantic, reciting those same words, his tongue stumbling over the utterances.

His eyelids raise, uncovering his red orbs. He presses his forehead against yours, staring deeply into your eyes. It’s a domestic stunt that makes your stomach churn. “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.” he huffs, then continues, “I’m happy you’re alright. I don’t know what I'd do if I lost you, mi alma.”

Taking your hand, he places a soft kiss on the back. “Had an anomaly harmed you, I would have ripped their fucking throat out!”

————————

Translations

- “¿Qué carajo?”/ what the fuck?

- “¿Dónde está ella?”/ where is she?

- “Debería estar furioso contigo, pero no lo estoy.”/ I should be furious with you, but I'm not.

- “Gracias a Dios que estás bien.”/ thank god you’re okay.

- mi alma/ my soul

[shrewsburysworld]

Mad Doctor (part II)

Pair :- Yandere seokjin × Female reader

Summary :- Dr. Seokjin is adored by all, yet bound to a possessive wife who marks him as hers. His colleagues pity him, thinking he’s trapped. But behind closed doors, the truth is far more complicated.

Warnings :- Yandere themes, toxic relationship, manupilative behaviour, domestic violence, jealous reader, possessive reader, dubious consent (mild), smut (it's bit edgy), oral (f. receiving), jealous seokjin, possessive seokjin.

"This is a work of fiction and does not promote or romanticize toxic relationships in real life."

They had been newlyweds, still learning each other's habits, still adjusting to their life together. Seokjin had noticed Yn’s possessiveness early on—the way she’d stiffen when another woman got too close, how her hand would tighten around his wrist when someone complimented him.

But she had never crossed a line. Not until that night.

It had started at a family gathering.

Yn’s mother had laughed over dinner, sipping on her wine, recounting stories from Yn’s childhood. "Yn has always been like this," she had said. "She never liked sharing her toys. I still remember when she scratched her little friend’s face just because she took her doll. Poor girl had scars for weeks."

Seokjin had chuckled politely, but a strange feeling crept up his spine. He glanced at Yn, expecting her to laugh it off, but she was staring at her plate, lips pressed into a thin line.

Seokjin's cousin sister was always friendly but he felt yn's eyes on him and he tensed, her mother previous words didn't do anything better.

Jin had tried to let go of that topic, he wasn't disloyal and he wasn't an object but why did it feel like it. Why did he get nervous while talking to another woman. He didn't see but he knew yn was watching and he knew what was going to happen tonight.

That night, when they got home, the tension followed them inside.

It started small—Yn’s arms crossed, eyes dark as she questioned him. "That woman was too close to you today."

Seokjin sighed, rubbing his temple. "She was just making conversation, Yn."

"She touched your arm."

"It was just for a moment."

"She was laughing."

"She can't laugh now?"

"She was flirting."

"She was just being friendly."

"Yn—"

*smack*

The slap came so suddenly, neither of them registered it at first.

A sharp sting on Seokjin’s cheek. A heavy silence in the air.

Yn gasped, stepping back as if she had burned herself. Her hand trembled. "Jin—" Her voice cracked. "I—"

She looked terrified. Like she had just realized what she had done.

Seokjin’s mind was blank. The pain barely registered, but the shock did. His wife—his soft, shy, lovesick wife—had hit him.

Yn clutched her hands together. "I didn’t mean to. I swear. I just—" Her breath came out shaky. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jin."

A long, suffocating silence stretched between them.

Seokjin forced himself to breathe. He swallowed, the weight of the moment settling in. And then, despite everything, he gave her a small, tired smile. "It’s okay."

But Yn knew it wasn’t. She knew she fucked up.

That night, they both lay awake in bed. Neither spoke. The space between them felt like an ocean. Yn wanted to apologise but she knew her sorrys are waste if she doesn't control her possessiveness. She never found it as a trait. Growing up she was proud of her selfishness and possesiveness, but now she wasn't sure.

Jin had been avoiding her for days. Yn felt like shit even though they slept in same bed he felt miles away and guilt for the first time was eating her away. Her Jin must be upset on her, she must correct her mistake.

Yn was determined. If her behavior hurt Seokjin—if it put a crack in their marriage—she would change. She isn't ready to give up on seokjin, never.

The next morning, she reached out to her friend, asking for recommendations for yoga and meditation classes.

"I need to control my anger," she admitted, voice heavy with shame.

And when she told Seokjin about it, he had smiled, relief flickering in his eyes.

"I’m proud of you, Yn."

For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

If he likes it then I'll do it.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

It started slow. Days passed.

Yn meditated in the mornings as instructed by teacher. She learned to breathe before reacting. When Seokjin’s female colleagues laughed a little too much at his jokes, she clenched her fists but said nothing. When she felt the surge of jealousy creeping up, she forced herself to calm down, to breathe, to not punch her in the face.

Seokjin noticed the difference immediately.

She no longer clung to him with bruising grips. She no longer tightened her arms around his waist whenever she got insecure.

She still loved him—he knew that. But something was different.

She was different.

And at first, it was good.

Healthy.

They were happy.

Seokjin was happy.

Until he wasn’t.

___

It was subtle at first.

Seokjin would flirt playfully, and instead of blushing furiously and gripping his arm, Yn would just smile and shake her head.

He would tease her about another woman talking to him, expecting that usual fire in her eyes, but she only kissed his cheek and said, "I trust you."

She didn’t get jealous anymore.

She didn’t throw her arms around him at random moments, burying her face in his chest.

She still held him, still kissed him, still loved him—but it wasn’t the same.

And Seokjin—he didn’t understand why that bothered him.

It was better this way, wasn’t it?

But then, why did he feel restless?

Why did he miss the way she used to grip him like he was the only thing keeping her afloat?

Why did it feel like he was losing something?

___

One evening, Seokjin decided to surprise Yn.

He had finished early at work and drove to her yoga class, waiting in the parking lot with a small bouquet in hand.

When he saw her step out of the building, he smiled.

He was about to call her name, stepping forward—

But then he froze.

Yn wasn’t alone.

She was talking to someone—a man.

Seokjin’s stomach dropped.

She was smiling. Laughing. Her posture was relaxed, her face open and warm.

She didn’t smile at men like that before.

And then it hit him.

Is this how Yn felt?

That suffocating weight in his chest. That rush of jealousy clawing up his throat. That deep, irrational fear that someone was trying to take what was his.

His fingers clenched around the bouquet, heart pounding in his ears.

For the first time, Seokjin understood.

And he hated it.

𓆩♡𓆪.｡.✿.｡.𓆩♡𓆪.｡.✿.｡.𓆩♡𓆪

The drive home that night was quiet. Too quiet.

Seokjin gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as his mind replayed the image over and over again.

Yn. Laughing. Smiling. With another man.

She had never done that before.

At home, Yn hummed as she set the table for dinner. She looked… peaceful.

Seokjin should have been happy. She was finally in control of her emotions, finally at ease. But something wasn’t right.

He couldn’t stop staring at her.

She was still his Yn, still his wife, but she wasn’t the same.

She wasn’t his in the way she used to be.

She didn’t cling to him the second he walked through the door. She didn’t demand to know how many women had tried to talk to him today.

She didn’t grip his arm too tight, didn’t press possessive kisses onto his skin.

She didn’t need to.

Because she was fine.

Without him.

"How was work?" Yn asked, taking a bite of her food.

Seokjin swallowed hard.

"It was okay," he murmured, watching her carefully.

Yn smiled. "That’s good. I had a great class today. We focused on breathing techniques."

Breathing techniques.

Seokjin bit the inside of his cheek.

"Who else was there?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay light.

Yn blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "The usual group."

"The usual group."

That man was part of the "usual group," wasn’t he?

Seokjin forced himself to nod.

"That’s nice."

Yn beamed.

But Seokjin felt sick.

The days that followed were a battle he hadn’t prepared for.

Seokjin was used to being the good one in their relationship. The patient one. The reasonable one.

But now… he was the one holding back his emotions.

He would wake up to find Yn already meditating in the living room, eyes closed, face serene. She looked untouchable—like something sacred.

She used to wake him up first.

She used to press lazy, desperate kisses to his lips in the mornings, refusing to let him leave the bed.

Now?

She was slipping away.

And he hated it.

At the hospital, Seokjin became distracted.

"Dr. Kim, are you alright?" a nurse asked when he nearly prescribed the wrong dosage for a patient.

He nodded stiffly. "Just a little tired."

Junho, his closest friend, noticed too.

"You don’t seem yourself lately," Junho remarked as they walked to the cafeteria. "Is everything okay with Yn?"

Seokjin clenched his jaw.

"She’s… changing."

Junho brightened. "That’s good, right? She’s working on herself."

Seokjin should have nodded. Should have smiled and said, Yes. It’s good.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Was it good?

Because it didn’t feel that way.

That night, when Seokjin got home, Yn was on the couch, scrolling through her phone.

She didn’t rush to the door when she heard him.

She didn’t even look up immediately.

It was like a knife to the chest.

"Hey," she finally greeted, glancing up.

That’s it?

Just ‘hey’?

"Hey," he echoed, his voice colder than intended.

Yn frowned. "Something wrong?"

Everything.

Everything was wrong.

"No," he said flatly, dropping his bag and walking past her.

Yn didn’t chase after him.

She used to.

She used to always chase after him.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

Seokjin tried to ignore the growing unease in his chest.

He told himself he was being irrational.

That he should be proud of Yn for controlling herself.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Especially when, a few days later, he picked her up from class early.

He saw her before she saw him.

And there he was again.

The man from before.

Standing next to Yn.

Smiling.

And worse—she was smiling back.

Seokjin saw red.

He had never hated anyone before.

But in that moment, he hated him.

His feet moved on their own, carrying him forward.

"Yn," he called, voice tight.

She turned, surprised. "Jin! You’re here early."

Seokjin barely glanced at the man before pulling Yn closer. His arm wrapped around her waist, his grip firm.

"Let’s go," he said.

Yn blinked but nodded, giving a small smile to the man. "See you later."

See you later.

See you later.

Seokjin gritted his teeth.

The second they got home, Seokjin pulled Yn against him, burying his face in her neck.

Yn laughed softly, carding her fingers through his hair. "What’s gotten into you?"

Seokjin didn’t answer.

He gripped her hips tighter, as if afraid she’d slip through his fingers.

"You don’t hold me like this anymore."

"You don’t need me like before."

"You’re slipping away."

Yn sighed, pulling back to cup his face. "Jin, you know I love you, right?"

"Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

Seokjin forced a smile. "Of course."

Yn smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

He kissed her back.

But this time, he didn’t let her pull away.

His lips moved urgently, possessively.

Yn let out a surprised sound, but he didn’t stop.

He needed to remind her.

Needed her to feel it.

Needed to brand himself onto her skin again.

His hands gripped her waist, his mouth trailing lower.

Yn gasped as he kissed along her collarbone, her neck. "Jin—"

But he didn’t stop.

He sucked and bit down, leaving marks.

Dark. Visible.

Possessive.

Yn let out a breathy laugh, tugging at his hair. "You’re acting jealous."

Seokjin smirked against her skin.

"Maybe I am."

Yn rolled her eyes but let him do whatever he wanted.

Just like she used to.

And for the first time in weeks, Seokjin felt at peace.

His kisses lingered further on body, his hands now pulling on her yoga pants. It was overwhelming for yn, they haven't had sex since their fight and she missed this so much.

Her panties were soaked and seokjin started moving her to bedroom. After pulling her panties down he put his one digit in, not really needed lube seeing how much horny yn was.

"You're my wife, Mine!"

Seokjin hurried himself out of his clothes, going down on her. Oh how he loves pleasuring yn. Hearing her break and whimper just by his mouth. Starting by sucking on her clitoris and to licking her folds, seokjin tried to prove that no one can please her better than him. His fingers joining and opening her up. Yn was mess, fuck she was a total mess. Her stomach bubbling with hotness and she knew she was close.

Seokjin however didn't rush - he enjoyed, licking her vagina clean he moved forward. Lubing up his dick, he was ready to insert - until.

"What about condom?"

Seokjin forgot and weirdly didn't want to remember about it. Surely he would pull out and even if he doesn't they were mature to be parents, right?

She could just leave that stupid class and would carry his child, her bump showing proudly but Jin still put on the condom. He can't go against her wishes but he does show his frustration with rough thrusts.

Hitting her on right spots, her hole swallowing him, adjusting his whole length as if it was made for it.

Jin sweet talked throughout the whole sex, he praised which elevated his sweet wife more. And for the first time in while seokjin was at peace.

❀｡･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ✿･:*:･ﾟ❥･:*:･ﾟ❀

Seokjin woke up alone.

His arms reached out instinctively, searching for Yn’s warmth. But the bed was empty. Cold.

His heart sank.

Last night, she had been there—under him, around him, his.

But now…

Seokjin sat up, rubbing his face before his eyes landed on the living room.

There she was.

Sitting on the floor, back straight, eyes closed in deep meditation.

Her lips, the same ones he had kissed raw last night, were slightly parted in a peaceful sigh.

His jaw clenched.

She was slipping away again.

Slowly.

So slowly that if he wasn’t careful, he would lose her completely.

But Seokjin wasn’t going to let that happen.

He had made up his mind.

"Yn."

His voice was soft but firm.

Yn slowly opened her eyes, blinking as she turned to face him. "Jin?"

He smiled, tilting his head. "Come have breakfast with me."

Yn hesitated.

Seokjin never interrupted her meditation.

Her routine had been sacred ever since she started this journey of self-control.

But now, his eyes held something she couldn’t quite place.

Something desperate.

"I just… want to have breakfast with my wife," he added, voice almost pleading.

Yn hesitated again, then nodded slowly.

"Just for today."

"Just this once."

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know what she had just agreed to.

Because Seokjin never planned to let her go back.

It started small.

Little things that Yn didn’t notice at first.

Like how her alarm mysteriously stopped ringing in the mornings.

"Oh, did you forget to set it?" Seokjin would ask, feigning innocence.

Or how, every time she wanted to meditate, he would suddenly need her.

"Can you help me with this?"

"Let’s go for a walk together."

"I made tea for us, come sit with me."

He never forced her.

No, Seokjin was too smart for that.

Instead, he made her choose him.

Made her feel guilty for wanting to spend time alone.

And when she did try to insist on her routine, his face would fall ever so slightly, just enough for her to see.

"I just… miss you, that’s all."

Yn would pause, chew her lip, then sigh.

"Okay, just for today."

Just for today.

But today became tomorrow.

Tomorrow became the next week.

And soon, Yn’s carefully built routine began to crumble.

Just like Seokjin planned.

___

It wasn’t enough.

Seokjin needed to try more.

So he let the jealousy creep back in.

He made her see it. Feel it.

One evening, while they were at a dinner party, he spoke a little too kindly to a female colleague.

He smiled a little too warmly.

And from the corner of his eye, he watched Yn’s fingers curl into fists.

Perfect.

She had been so calm lately. So rational.

But Seokjin didn’t want rational.

He wanted her to burn for him.

So when the woman laughed at his joke and placed a hand on his arm, he didn’t move away immediately.

Yn saw.

And just like that, the fire was back.

Her nails dug into his wrist under the table, a warning. A claim.

And Seokjin nearly smiled.

When they got home, she was seething.

"You enjoyed that, didn’t you?" she accused, arms crossed.

Seokjin blinked, innocent. "What are you talking about?"

Yn stepped closer, eyes blazing. "She was all over you, and you let her."

Seokjin sighed dramatically. "Yn, you know I only love you."

"Then prove it."

She grabbed his collar, yanking him into a bruising kiss.

Seokjin let her.

Let her pull. Let her mark him.

Let her claim him all over again.

His fingers curled into her waist, holding her close as she pressed hickeys into his skin like she owned him.

She did. She always would.

And in that moment, Seokjin knew.

He had won.

___

Yn stopped going to meditation classes.

Not all at once. No, it was gradual.

Slow.

Seokjin made sure of that.

"Come with me to the hospital, I have a long shift, and I miss you."

"Let’s take a trip, just us."

"I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, stay with me."

One by one, her excuses piled up.

And one day, she simply stopped going altogether.

Seokjin held her tighter than ever.

And when she clung back, possessive, needy, desperate—he knew.

His Yn was back.

She thought she had won.

That she had chosen to let go of meditation on her own.

But Seokjin knew better. Every step. Every moment.

His sweet, jealous wife. His obsessive, possessive wife.

His perfect wife.

And she would never even realize.

Seokjin had always been a patient man. It was a necessary trait in his profession—steady hands, steady mind, unwavering control. He knew how to wait. How to watch. How to manipulate the smallest changes in a person’s body to lead them to recovery.

But this wasn’t about healing.

It was about undoing.

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.♡・。.・゜

The hospital was quieter in the mornings, the scent of antiseptic lingering in the air as the early shifts began. Dr. Junho leaned against Seokjin’s desk, arms crossed, his face laced with concern. His eyes flickered toward Seokjin’s sleeve, barely hiding the faint bruises on his wrist—remnants of last night’s possessive grip.

“She’s getting worse, Jin,” Junho muttered, keeping his voice low so no nurses would overhear.

Seokjin merely sighed, adjusting his tie in the reflection of his computer screen. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Junho scoffed. "Jin, people saw what happened last night. The way she held onto you, the way she stormed out. And now—" He gestured toward the bruises. "She’s leaving marks on you. This isn’t normal.”

A pause stretched between them.

“She loves me,” Seokjin finally said, voice calm, unwavering. "That’s all there is to it."

Junho pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling in frustration. "Jin, love shouldn’t be like this. You know that, right?"

But Seokjin only smiled, an expression so gentle, so convincing that anyone else would have believed him. "You don’t understand, Junho. She just… loves me differently."

And that was the end of the conversation. Junho knew pushing further would be pointless—Seokjin always denied it, always dismissed it. With one last wary glance, Junho left, leaving Seokjin alone in his office, staring at his reflection.

A love like theirs wasn’t for others to understand.

---

When Seokjin stepped inside his home that evening, the air felt different. It was warm, charged, filled with something possessive and intoxicating. Yn was in the kitchen, back turned to him, humming softly as she prepared dinner. His heart swelled at the sight.

She turned at the sound of his footsteps, her lips curling into a smirk. "You’re late."

Seokjin simply walked over, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, pressing a lingering kiss to her neck. "You missed me?"

Yn huffed but didn’t pull away. "Of course I did. Who else am I supposed to keep in check?"

A chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Of course."

As they sat down for dinner, Yn eyed the faint bruises on his wrist, her fingers tracing them lightly. "I didn't mean to grip you that hard," she muttered.

Seokjin took her hand in his, squeezing gently. "I know, darling!."

She didn’t notice the way his grip lingered, possessive in its own way. She didn’t notice how his eyes darkened ever so slightly as he watched her across the table, how his mind swirled with satisfaction.

Because she was his. And he was hers.

And as long as the world thought he was the victim, no one would ever suspect who the real yandere in their marriage was.

Heya!! Sorry for being lazy in posting the second part 😩

Thanks Y'all for patiently waiting and giving love to this series (mwah mwah), if anyone has any ideas on next part or epilogue do not hesitate to share with me. And do comment if you liked the plot.

Taglist :- @aaclariww , @taekritimin123 , @bebabido , @demonshauntingthedoves , @kpopsmutty69 , @11thenightwemet11 , @margaretro23 , @yoontaethings .

[yamumsyadadd]

First love

Part of the mariquita universe. i didnt proof read this at all :)

its about 4.7k words. bit of yelling, mentions of sex.

It took a long time for you to be comfortable telling your parents what you needed. Everytime you tried, the worst washed over you. But it never happened, both your mami and mama would move mountains for you. 

This time it was because you felt a little neglected. Rio was two, he was mobile and just loved to be around people. Olga got one on one time with him most days, your mami however did not. A large quantity of her free time in the evenings and even weekends was spent playing with Rio, which left very little time for you. 

As you were sitting on the couch, your mami on your right and Olga on your left, Rio in bed. 

“I have something to say.” It came out a lot harsher than you were anticipating, both your mami and Olga whipped their heads around to look at you, slightly taken aback by the way you spoke. “Sometimes I feel a little left out because you both have one on one time with Rio and not with me. I know he’s small and needs help but it would be nice to have one on one time too.” You couldn’t lift your head up to look at them, feeling slightly embarrassed that you weren’t being more independent. 

“Mariquita, I’m so sorry. We are sorry, that you’re feeling that way. How about we make a plan? One day or morning or whatever, we can have it as just us. No one else.” Your mami said as she stroked through your hair. 

“What about Olga?”

“What about me? You want to have one on one time with me too?” 

“Well yeah. You’re my third parent?” 

For the 6 years that Olga had been in your life, she had tried not to make any parenting decisions directly to you, always texting your mami and mama, not wanting to over step the line but now with you saying it, she felt more at ease. To her you were her daughter, just as much as Rio was her son. 

“How about on Saturday mornings we alternate? One week with me, one week with your mami, then if it’s a home game we can have a movie night on Saturday nights?” Olga knew she had to hold in her tears, saving them for when she was wrapped up in alexia’s arms later tonight. 

“I like that plan.” Your mami kissed your head, giving Olga’s shoulders a squeeze from behind you. 

For the next year, that’s how to worked. Every week you’d have one on one time with your mami and Olga. Even if Olga was meant to be in Madrid, she’d make time for you. Very occasionally someone else would join. Sometimes Alba, sometimes one of two of Olga’s friends. 

With your mami, your favourite thing was going on a hike. They weren’t particularly easy ones and not once did she complain. With Olga, you typically ran, 5 or 10kms, sometimes going to Pilates or yoga, always ending up at your favourite cafe for brunch and coffee. 

————————————-

As you got older, more mature, so did your body. To your mami and Olga, it was like you grew boobs overnight. The boys and girls at school noticed too. You went from being a flat chested, quiet girl, to being a c-cup, pretty and popular. 

Your bright green eyes, light freckles that littered your face, stood out to the boys but one boy in particular. Juan had been in your class since you moved. You didn’t know much about him, he was athletic, enjoyed playing football but he was also creative. He drew a lot, you would see all the drawings as you passed his desk in the mornings. He was in the ‘popular’ group at school but he was definitely the most quiet out of them. 

There were times when you were paired together, during gym class or biology but you were never really able to talk. It was all about school and getting the work done. 

It wasn’t until the Sant Jordi festival that you really got to know him. The Barcelona team, Olga and a few of her friends were going, your friends too. Your mami let you go off with them for a few hours, only for most the girls to go off with their boyfriends leaving you alone with Juan. 

“So, um, what do you do for fun?” He would barely look at you, hands buried in his pockets to avoid an accidental touch. 

“I like to run, do yoga, hiking, I like science and reading too. How about you? I know you play football.” 

“I like hiking too! I do play football, not for Barcelona or anything yet. But that’s the dream right?” He chuckled slightly. 

“Yeah I guess.” 

“You don’t like football? I thought you would because of your parents.”

“I like watching, I don’t like playing. It was never really fun for me considering who my parents are.” 

“Ah gotcha.” That was all that was said for a while, until you saw your mami who waved you over. 

“I’ve got to go. My mami is waving me over.”

“Do you want to go on a hike together?” You both spoke at the same time. Blush creeping over both your cheeks. 

“A hike sounds good. I can give you my number and we can organise it?” 

“Yes!” He practically shouted, “I mean, yeah yeah that’s cool.” You swapped numbers before saying goodbye and running over to your mami and Tia’s. 

One look from Mapi meant that you’d talk about this later. Later when your mami and Olga were no where near.

It took a few days of talking and planning until you were able to settle on a day that would work. There was only one problem: your mami and Olga. Usually they were fine with you going to hang out with your friends but this was different. Or at least it felt different. 

You decided to pull someone into this and help the cover for you. Your first thought was Mapi and Ingrid, but Mapi had a big mouth and would tell your mami. Vicky was out, she too would accidentally let it slip, same with Patri and Claudia. The only option left was Alba. 

“You want me to lie to your mami?” 

“Well it’s technically not a lie because I will be with you, just not the entire time.” 

“Fine. But if she finds out, you owe me £50 and you tell her the truth about her missing shoes.” 

“Thank you thank you!” You hung up, rolling over and smiling like an idiot. Tomorrow you’d have your first date? Hang out alone with a cute boy? You weren’t sure what to call it but you were excited. 

When the time finally came everything was set in motion. Your mami and Olga thought you were spending the afternoon with Alba, but you were going to be with the boy you had a crush on. 

It felt like school drag on for you. Whenever you could spare a glance towards Juan, he was already looking at you. A love sick smile on his face. Your friends giggled about it at lunchtime and in between classes. 

At first, it was a little awkward. Between carrying your school bags and the hike itself, there wasn’t much talking. Once you got to the top, Juan stopped near a clearing, pulling out a blanket and a container of food. 

“I made us some afternoon tea.” The container was filled with chips, cookies, soft pretzels, some cut up strawberries and watermelon. 

“Did you make these?” You gestured towards the cookies and soft pretzels. 

“I did. I like to bake, sorry if they aren’t good-“ you leaned towards him, kissing his cheek and effectively shutting him up. 

The rest of the afternoon was filled with lots of laughs and getting to know each other. You’d never been on a date before, or really been around straight couples, but if your mami and mama felt this way about each other when they met, then you knew it was going to be good. 

The hike back down was a lot less awkward than before, when Juan reached for your hand to hold you let him. Smiling shyly up at him. You could see albas car a little up the path from where you had stopped. 

As you both awkwardly stood there, you took your chance. You stood up on your tippy toes and kissed him. He kissed back almost immediately and when you pulled away, you both had mirroring smiles. 

“I had a really good time today. Thank you for the afternoon tea.” 

“I did too. Can we do it again? maybe we can do out for dinner or something?” 

“Yes!” Alba car horn made you whip around, “text me? I gotta go.” You kissed him again then walked away, feeling a feeling that you’ve never felt before. 

Alba was sitting in the front seat of her car, having watched the whole thing, remembering helping your mami sneak off to go on a date with your mama. 

“So… how was it?” 

“It was fine. A nice hike, he made some afternoon tea, had my first kiss, talked about our hobbies, his football. You know the usual.” 

“YOUR FIRST KISS!?” Alba screamed. “How was it?”

“It was good. Really good. Better than I imagined.” 

“This calls for ice cream.”

“Mami is going to be annoyed.” 

“Who cares.” 

Your mami was in fact annoyed. Going on and on about alba spoiling your dinner and how you both knew that you weren’t allowed ice cream so close to dinner but you didn’t care. All you could think about was your first kiss with Juan and how he continued to text you even though apart of you thought he wouldn’t. 

For the next few weeks you and Juan continued your secret dates. Sometimes it would be just as simple as watching him at football training, or going for a run together. Olga had noticed something was up, you generally weren’t the typical phone always in hand teenager but over the last few weeks you had been. That and the love sick smile on your face whenever you looked at your phone. 

“I think Mari has a boyfriend or girlfriend.” It was said in the safety of their bedroom. The house was quiet, both you and Rio were asleep. 

“Oh?” Alexia put down her iPad, “what makes you think that?” 

“She’s always on her phone now, smiling at it. She’s also spending a lot of time with Alba.” 

“She’s always been close to Alba.”

“I know, but this feels different.” 

“Okay, how about I ask Alba since she can’t lie to me, and you ask Mari?”

“Okay.” 

They talked a little more to make the plan fool proof. Alexia would corner Alba, a short time after Olga cornered you. Olga would report back to alexia and alexia would use that to get the truth out. 

But it wasn’t that easy. While you had been spending time with Alba, you’d managed to finally rope in a Vicky and Pina. At first they were hesitant, neither could lie to your mami if they interrogated her but you promised it wouldn’t come to that. Alba didn’t know exactly how much time you were spending with Juan and that you had gotten two more people in on it. 

When Juan asked you to be his girlfriend officially you were over the moon. You’d lied yet again about where you were and who you were with. This time, you were alone in his room. His parents were still at work and one thing led to another. You left his house that afternoon with an ache between your legs and a smile on your face. You had a boyfriend. You were happy and you had entered a new stage of your life. 

It had taken a week for Olga to be able to effectively corner you. It was your time for one on one time with her, this week was a 10km run followed by a swim at the beach, then brunch. 

“Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend?” Olga had completely disregarded the plan her and alexia had, wanting to get straight to this point. 

“Yes.” 

Olga’s head turned around so fast you’re surprised it didn’t snap off. “You haven’t said anything? How long?” 

“I don’t know. Couple of months.” 

“You’ve been using alba to cover for you?” 

“Alba, Vicky and pina. Only a few times a week.” 

“Why?” 

“Mami is… overbearing. She’s Alexia Putellas for Christ sake.” 

“She’s protective. Only wants the best for you, we both do. Have you told your mama?” 

“No. Only alba, Vicky and Claudia plus my friends at school. I guess you too now.” 

“You need to tell her.”

“I know. I will.” 

It wasn’t spoken about for the rest of the day, Olga never did message Alexia so she couldn’t interrogate Alba. You were stewing away trying to figure out how to tell her. You wanted it to be at home, somewhere she was calm knowing that she would freak out. 

But it didn’t work out like that. On sundays you’d always go to your Abuela’s for dinner. No matter what, everyone was there. It was something your Abuela had been incredibly strict on. 

Throughout the night, both Olga and Alba kept giving you looks. Alba had mentioned that something seemed different about you, but you shrugged her off. After Olga put Rio down in the portacot in the spare room, something inside you snapped. 

“I have a boyfriend and I had sex with him.” As soon as you realised what you blurted out, you covered your mouth. 

The sound of cutlery hitting the plates seemed like the loudest thing in the world. 

“What did you just say.” Your mami asked, you were pretty sure she heard and the vein popping out of her neck confirmed it. 

“Ale-“ Olga started. 

“No! Repeat what you just said!”

“I have a boyfriend, his name is Juan. He plays football, he’s really great mami.” 

“I didn’t ask his name y/n. I didn’t ask if he was nice or what his hobbies were, I asked you to repeat yourself.” 

“I have a boyfriend and we had sex.”

Everyone watched on in horror as Alexia slammed her fist on the table, “you’re 15! A child. You’re child who should not be doing that!” 

“You had sex with mama when you were 16.” Something inside of you wanted to fight back, to stand up for yourself. “The only difference is Juan is a boy and mama is a girl. Alba had sex at-“ 

“Enough! I cannot believe you would be so irresponsible, so reckless. Is that why you made Alba lie for you?” Her voice was getting louder and louder. Olga was silently worried that Rio would wake up. 

“How would you know if I was reckless? All you’ve done is yell at me. I didn’t make Alba do anything! She is an adult!” You matched her volume, yelling back. 

And right on que, Rio woke up. The scrapping of Olga’s chair and his screams snapped you both out of it. 

“Get in the car. Do not say another word.” Your mami was seething. There’s only one other time you’d seen her like this, it was when you were being bullied at your old school but this time, her anger was directed at you. 

You didn’t even bother saying goodbye to your Abuela or to Alba, slamming both the front door and the car door as you sat down. 

Your mami spent the entire car ride trying not to blow up at you, you could tell by the way her hands gripped the wheel and her posture was stiff. Occasionally Olga would turn back and give you a sympathetic look, she didn’t know for a fact that you and Juan had sex but she could’ve guessed it. To your mami, you were the shy, scared four year old even if you were the opposite at 15. 

As soon as the car was in the garage you made a move to get out, “don’t even think about it.” Your mami gritted through her teeth. You weren’t sure if she was going to punish you by making you sleep in the garage, or if she needed a quiet place to kill you. 

Olga got Rio out and made her way inside, deciding to ignore your mamis demand you got out of the car. You were full of emotions, you were mad at your mami for the way she was acting, you were sad she didn’t trust you but a part was also relieved that she knew. 

“Give me you phone, laptop, iPad. Hell any device you can message on, I want on my bed in the next 2 minutes.” 

“Mami that’s not-“

“2 minutes.” She stormed off down the hall, no doubt to message your mama and ask for her help in this matter or maybe she was going to google ‘how to deal with your child having sex.’ 

You knew that trying to fight her on this wouldn’t end well so you begrudgingly gathered up your devices. Apart of you was going to make this difficult for her, if you couldn’t have you laptop you couldn’t do school work, then she’d get a call from your teacher but that would be her fault not yours. Same with your phone, she wouldn’t know where you were or what you were doing. The convenience would be turned into an inconvenience. 

“You’re not to go anywhere after school. I will drop you off and I will pick you up. No phone, laptop, iPad, anything. You will come home, do you homework and chores and stare at a wall. I do not want you talking to that boy. I will book an appointment with a gynaecologist and we will go. There is no discussing this.” She didn’t even look at you. The disappointment was radiating off her. 

“You and mama were the same age as me. I don’t see the big deal in this.” 

“That’s exactly the problem, you don’t see the big deal in this. You’re a child y/n, you’re not some adult who gets to frolick around. I thought you knew better than this, I’m dis-“

“If you’re so ashamed of me then I’ll go live with mama! You won’t have be repulsed every time you look at me!” 

“Fine! Go live with your mama! Go right ahead, move to Mexico, say goodbye to your little boyfriend and your friends. You think you’re so grown so go ahead.” You knew she didn’t mean it because she had fought hard to keep you in Spain, more than once. 

“I hate you!” You screamed at her as you slammed the door closed. Throwing yourself onto your bed and screaming into your pillow. 

While laying there crying, you were trying to make up a plan in what to do. Flying to Mexico was out of the question, you needed your phone and passport, both which your mama had. Running away was an option that you were on the fence about. You could hide, but that would be unfair to Olga and your other family. 

Over the next few days you refused to talk to you mami, not that it really mattered since she wasn’t talking to you. Olga could tell you were mad and sad about the entire thing. There was no part of her that was disappointed or mad at you, it was a natural thing to do. Teenagers have sex, she had sex as a teenager, both or mami and mama too. 

She kept her word, dropping you off at the gate everyday and picking you up. The only way to talk to your friends and Juan was at school. It was annoying for everyone. 

Usually, your mama would take you straight home, cancelling her appointments that she usually had in the afternoons, today however was different. All week she was grumbling to Olga about how the club was making her go to the La Masia trials, the same trials that Juan had been talking about all week. It never clicked until you pulled up. 

“Why are we here?” “Trials. Don’t embarrass me.” She barely looked at you and got out. It was slowly getting to you. Your mami was your best friend and now she was treating you like shit. 

The first hour was spent standing around, staring at the grass as your mami spoke to all the coaches. It wasn’t until 15 minutes before the trials began that you saw Juan and his family. His mami and papa and little sister were always at his trainings and games, showing support whenever they could. 

After an hour it all came crashing down. You didn’t realise it at the time, but when you went over to say hello to Juan and his family, your mami was watching. She realised right away who the boy was and made a mental note of it. You had gone off to the bathroom, finally allowed to be alone after having your mami breathing down your neck. 

Panic arose in you when you saw your mami and Juan’s parents talking. With her scowl on her face, you knew it wasn’t a friendly conversation. 

“Our children seem to be dating, we need to set some boundaries. If the children, because thats what they are, are at either houses I need there to be adult supervision and for the bedroom doors to stay open.” Your mami crossed her arms, looking over as you walked towards them. 

“I agree, y/n is only ever allowed over when one of us is home.” Juan’s father, Jorge said. 

“Well if thats the case then they wouldn’t have been able to have sex would they?” “Excuse me?” His mama, Isabel got defensive , “they have never been home alone, they go out after school alone, but never ever have they been home alone.” Jorge had removed himself from the conversation, walking over to Juan and pulling him by his jersey to his mama. 

“Ms Putellas has just told us that you and y/n have had sex? You are never home alone so this isn’t true is it?”

Both you and Juan stood there in silence, knowing that whatever the answer you’ll both be in trouble. “You were asked a question, answer it.”

“Yes we had sex. Tia was on the phone to her boyfriend and so we were in my room with the door closed.“ “Juan! Not only have you disrespected our family, our rules, but you also disrespected the Putellas family. Go get in the car, you’re done today.” Juan looked like he was about to cry at his papas words. You knew that if he left early, he wouldn’t be counted in the trial and his dream to join Barcelona would have to wait another year. 

As he walked off, not even sparing you a glance, you could feel the tears slipping out of your eyes. The drive home was quiet, you sat there staring out the window crying silently. The coming days would be horrible, you just had that feeling. 

And boy were you right. For three days, Juan ignored you until it got too much and you cornered him in the locker room as PDHPE finished. 

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Im not” he continued to pack his bag. 

“You’re lying to me. Why?”

“My parents said it would be best if we didn’t see each other anymore.” He said it with the coldest voice, no emotions at all.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. I need to focus on school and on football.” “I thought you loved me?”

“Love doesn’t matter y/n. I need to go, my papa will be waiting.” 

He left you standing there, crying in the middle of the boys locker room. Your heart had just been broken by the first boy you loved. So you did what you did best, you ran. You didn’t even take your school bag with you, or bother to tell you mami or friends. You just ran and ran until your tears were mixed with sweat and your chest hurt. 

Albas house is where you ended up and luckily she was actually home when you pounded on the door. She took you in no questions asked. Holding you sweaty gross body close to hers as you cried into her. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, a mix of exhaustion from crying so hard and running all the way there. 

When you did wake up, there were voices talking around you, you could feel a hand running through your hair. You tensed up at the thought of your mami being here. 

“Relax mari, its just me.” Olgas voice calmed your ears. “Are you ready to go home?” She asked softly.

“Yeah I guess.” You got up, hugging alba goodbye and thanking her, then followed Olga down to her car. Neither of you spoke, but she did give you a small sympathetic smile and squeezed your shoulder. 

You knew it was bad when you walked in the front door and Olga didn’t even greet your mami. To be the cause of their fight made you feel incredibly anxious. Olga followed you into your room, sitting on the edge of the bed as you made yourself comfortable.

“Can you tell me what happened?” You nodded and told the entire story. How everyday you and Juan would spend all the breaks together, how your mami acted insane today at the football trial and how Juan broke your heart and didn’t even care. 

On the inside, Olga was seething. She had already gone off at Alexia multiple times about this whole thing, and for Alexia to go behind her back and break a promise, made her see red. 

For two days, Olga let you stay home with her and Rio. Your mami wasn’t told, Olga just said she was talking you to school. For two days, you got to lay in bed and sulk. Feel whatever you needed to feel and then you decided that was enough. You weren’t going to let a boy ruin the rest of your high school experience. 

And so the next day you got up, scrubbed your entire body and put on a brave face. The kids at school whispered as they saw both you and Juan ignore each other, your friends groups stayed separate and the girls refused to talk to the boys. 

All that was left to face was your mami. Your mama, Olga, abuela and alba had all torn into her. She overreacted and ruined a relationship.

“Mari, can we talk for a moment?” Your mami asked as she stood in the doorway to your room. 

“Depends, are you going to yell at me or tell me I’m a disappointment again?

“No. That was a mistake. I should never have said those things to you because you aren’t a disappoint, you’re strong, brave, and the perfect child.” She walked over to your desk chair, sitting down. “I had never imagined you having a boyfriend or having sex. In my head, you were still our little baby, not someone who is going to be an adult in three short years.”

“Mami-“

“No please let me finish otherwise Olga might kill me.” You both laughed, knowing that Olga was probably waiting in bed for this conversation to end. “Your mama and I had sex when I was 16, alba had sex when she was 15. The difference being, I didn’t have a pregnancy scare but Alba did. She didn’t tell abuela, and I carried that secret for years, so when you said you had sex all I could imagine was a 15 year old Alba crying in my apartment.”

“I understand, but I promise we used a condom. It was only one time and it wont happen again because he broke up with me.”

Your mami frowned, then her eyes went wide, “he broke up with you because of me?”

“Yeah.”

“I am so so sorry. If I could go back in time I would.”

“No mami, its fine. He obviously wasn’t worth it but if you do it to the next person I probably wont be so forgiving.”

Your mami laid down with her, letting you snuggle into her. For now your relationship Ould be strained and maybe it wouldn’t ever be as good as it once was but for now it was fixed. 

[willowsnook]

Hi,I wanted to request a fluff lando norris x sainz reader.you can make it however you would like.if you can make it amazing and if not, that's ok, also I love your writing <3

lando norris x sainz!reader

A/n: short little blurb

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"Are you sure it's okay if I stay here?" You asked your brother as he carried your suitcases into his Monaco apartment.

"Of course," he said, scoffing. "It's insulting that you even ask that; you're my sister."

"I know...but I don't want to impose," you said. Carlos set your bag down and brought his hands down to your shoulders.

"You can stay here as long as you want; I'm gone a lot of the time anyways," he said, reassuring you.

Moving in with your brother had not been in the cards for this year, but after you were laid off last month, you couldn't afford to renew your lease for your London apartment, so here you were. There were some good leads for jobs in Monaco, so moving in with Carlos temporarily seemed like a good move. Plus, the country was beautiful.

A few weeks in, you settled into a good routine. You went on a run every morning, followed by yoga, and then you applied for jobs or went in for interviews. You were in the final rounds at several places and felt optimistic. On nights Carlos was there, you hung out with him, but you tried to carve out a new life for yourself in Monaco. You joined a book club at your new favorite bookstore, hung out at the beach, and went to bars alone in hopes of meeting new people.

Carlos was out of town this weekend on a quick trip to see Rebecca, so you had the place to yourself. Declaring it a "self-care" night, you cooked your favorite pasta dish, poured a big glass of wine, and set yourself up to watch your favorite kind of thing on Netflix: a crime documentary.

Not even two minutes in, someone was knocking at the door. Annoyed, you paused the show and tossed the blanket off of you, heading to the door. Swinging it open, you were surprised to see Lando Norris standing there, giving you an equally confused look.

"Is Carlos here?" He asked once he collected himself.

"No, he's in Spain with Rebecca," you told him. "Do you need something?"

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I just wanted to see if he wanted to grab dinner or something."

You nodded and started to close the door, but Lando stuck his foot out, stopping it.

"Is that pasta?" He said, a hopeful look in his eyes as he looked past your shoulder to the leftovers you hadn't put away yet.

You gently rested your head against the door, closing your eyes before you sighed and fully pulled it open, allowing him to step in.

"I don't even know you," you grumbled as he started towards the kitchen.

"We've met plenty of times y/n," he chirped as he made himself a plate. "What are you watching?"

"A crime documentary," you replied. "Don't you have better things to do on a Friday night? Going to the club? Getting on the sim? Streaming?"

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Watching a crime documentary sounds good. Can I have a glass of wine?”

“Help yourself,” you muttered, moving back to the couch. He downed the pasta and brought a glass with him to the couch, sitting down to join you. Silently you started the documentary and the two of you spent the next hour and a half completely hooked.

“So do you think he did it?” Lando asked as the credits rolled.

“I honestly have no idea, “ you replied thoughtfully.

“I think he did,” Lando said confidently and you laughed at the triumphant look on his face. The two of you had shifted closer to each other during the show, now only a short distance apart. “Every excuse he has is just ‘too perfect.’”

You started to reply but were interrupted by your phone ringing on the coffee table. You threw Lando an apologetic look before answering.

“Hello?”

“Hola y/n, just calling to check in on you,” you heard your brother say over the line.

“Hi Carlos, everything is great. I had to take over your babysitting duties for tonight,” you joked and Lando pouted at you.

“Lando is there?” Carlos asked and you snorted while Lando groaned.

“Yeah, I’ve fed him and entertained him for the night,” you said and Carlos laughed.

“No funny business okay?” Carlos asked and your face flamed red. You mumbled a goodbye to him, ignoring the look of glee on Lando’s face.

“No funny business huh,” Lando said and you flipped him off.

“Are you leaving now? It’s late,” you said and he shook his head.

“Let’s watch another one,” he said and you sighed, but agreed. Handing him the remote, you got up to get a blanket, bringing it back and throwing it over you and Lando. He picked another documentary from the options and you two settled in. You could feel yourself growing sleepier as the show went on and you constantly squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Lean on me,” Lando whispered, not taking off his eyes off the screen.

“What?” You whisper yelled back at him. He held his arm up and beckoned you closer . “No funny business Norris.”

“No funny business Sainz,” he said back with an amused grin. Sighing, you moved into him and it was annoying how comfy he was. Snuggling into his chest you tried to stay awake but ended up drifting off. Lando looked down at you with a small smile on his face; little did you know that he already knew Carlos was out of town, he just wanted an excuse to see you.