#want him to force me t have his kids

[luvlyycy]

need to get this off my chest..

i want lyle to buy a fucking plushie, the cutest pink plushie he can find. just so he can make me hump it until its a dark pink— if i cant hump it n grind against it, he'll rub it all over my face then start rubbing it manually against my pussy. the plushie's color is darkened forever, it smells like my pussy all the time and he keeps it tucked neatly in his room. when im gone, he'll bite onto it and jack off because he just misses me so much.

lyle dylandy, i fucking love you.

[tonycries]

Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing. 

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h. 

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly. 

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air. 

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome. 

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[fushiguho]

✰ finally domming toji & he’s a brat about it… at first!

cw fem! reader, dom! reader, light bondage, premature orgasm, a little cum feeding :/

“you’re a mean little thing.” toji grouses between little pants of incredulity as you push him in his chest, forcing his bare back against the silken sheets. “c’monnn, this isn’t you. what happened to my sweet girl?”

“jesus, do you ever stop talking?” you bite, throwing a leg over his burly hips, straddling him. “should’ve gagged you.”

he sucks his teeth, scoffing. “doll, i don’t think that’s necessary.”

you huff an agitated breath. “then shut up. you promised to let me have this.”

tonight, your boyfriend has finally, finally given you the chance to call the shots… or try to, rather. however, he’s having a hard time letting go, relinquishing his inborn desire to assume power. it’s rare to see him like this, beneath you. still, he’s grasping at straws, hanging on to any fleeting shred of power that he can muster as you begin to tie his wrists.

nervously, you fumble with the thick piece of rope that you hold in your hands. a sleazy little grin kisses his beautifully scarred lips. toji almost can’t help but to laugh as you attempt to bind his wrists to the wooden headboard. something between a wince of pain and a groan of pleasure leaves him as you pull through the final loop, finishing your double column tie.

he groans. “a little tighter, yeah?” it’s hardly a joke, but he pulls at his restraints roughly, wrists aching.

you pout, dropping your head to the right in feigned concern and you can hear the breath that catches in his throat. toji, far too stubborn to admit, loves you like this, bad. it took a lot to get here—days of begging, bribery, orgasms. he’d only be kidding himself if he said this isn’t turning him into such a… whore. after all, how could he say no to his pretty girl?

something warm and dangerous twitches against your inner thigh. the sweet tune you hum as you trail an idle finger down, down, down his heaving chest makes his hips rut beneath you, a fruitless attempt at finding release. a guttural sound is parting his lips when you take one of his hardening nipples between your thumb and index.

“you know, i could get out if i wanted.” it’s breathless, a wicked grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you did a good job…” he pauses, gaze flickering up to observe his bounded wrists before tugging at his restraints, “but this won’t hold me, pretty girl.”

you scoot down a bit, revealing the pretty, achy bulge that rests so angrily between his strapping thighs. briefly, his eyes meet yours, the subtle furrow in his brows making your core tighten with need. a slow, teasing finger skims the stubble beneath his waistband. his stomach caves, sinking in his ever growing arousal.

“you know, maybe i should gag you.” you finally reply after some thought. the notion lingers on your conscious as you drop your head, kissing him through his underwear. “you’re insufferable when you’re not in charge.”

toji can’t help the near feral buck of his hips, an ensuing growl dragging from his mouth. he can feel himself losing his fucking mind as you drag a warm palm over his clothed cock. a violent shudder rattles his body, an unintentional gasp pulling his jaw slack.

“baby, it h-hurts… c’mon now, you’re being mean.”

“take your cock out then.” you challenge, backing away slightly to watch as he struggles. “show me you what it is you want.”

scoffing, he rolls his eyes, looking like the grumpiest of bears as he ruts his hips helplessly, desperately attempting to wriggle out of his underwear with his hands tied above his head. you smile, a pretty little giggle leaving your lips. watching toji struggle to find relief makes a warm, electrifying heat pool between your thighs. how the fuck could he ever deny you of this?

“fuuuck! i can’t!” it’s merely a high-pitched whine as he huffs frustrated little breaths through his flaring nostrils. “help me! you tied me t-too tight, i can’t do it.” he’s whimpering now, chest heaving in time with the mindless jerk of his hips. “baby, i need you to take it out for me. p-please okay?”

never. you have never seen him like this and you’re not sure how there was a time that existed before. a raw moan of relief is belting from his lungs when you finally slip a hand down his tightening briefs. your fingers brush over the twitching length of his erection, collecting the syrupy precum that adorns the head of his weeping cock.

with your other hand, you’re tugging his underwear down and his head is deliriously nodding back to rest against his pillow. your fist wraps around the base of his cock, squeeeezing. the messy tip drools, rivulets of pretty, pearlescent arousal drip, drip, dripping down his throbbing shaft.

“god, j-just put it in your mouth. don’t be like that… why are you being liked this, huh?” instinctively he tugs at his bindings, attempting to reach out for you but finds that he can’t.

he is so fucking desperate for it, yet he can hardly stomach the thought that it’s him begging like a slut to feel your tongue on the head of his cock. god and he’s just pitifully unaware of how he’s fully whining—the usual bass of his tone lost in the pathetic quaver of his crackling voice, reaching an octave so high that it shocks even you.

still, you shake your head, a bewitching smile gracing your lips. instead, you’re shifting lower, lolling out your tongue as you peer at him through batting lashes. toji’s breath hitches as you drool down the length of his cock. a longggg string of saliva tethers your bottom lip to his cock head as you start to stroke him from the base.

toji’s mouth gapes, yet nothing of coherence is uttered. he babbles mindlessly, those dark, drunken eyes stupidly following the hand that works at his cock, utterly enthralled by the subtle twist of your wrist as you near the weeping head. he curses to himself, needy hips still attempting to buck underneath your weight.

with your legs on either side of his body, you keep him grounded as you pump up and down his angry shaft. your warm, wet lips are trailing along his tightening abdomen. the poor boy writhes beneath your touch, his body reacting in a way you didn’t know was possible—his spine bows, hips bucking almost carnally as his stomach caves, arousal swirling deeep in his core.

��please.” it’s merely a breath as you nip the soft skin behind the shell his ear, soothingly dragging your tongue along the forming bruise. “will you kiss me at least?”

you peck the corner of his gaped mouth once, pulling away before he can even register your fleeting lips. toji turns his head, chasing your teasing lips and you smile, swiping your thumb over the head of his cock which pulls the filthiest little groan from him.

he pouts, thick brows furrowing slightly. “you’re being mean.”

“oh, you poor babyyy.” his cock jerks against the palm of your hand at your sweet, condescending tone. “maybe i should keep you like this forever, hm? actually think i prefer this.”

“mmh—why? you like torturin’ me?”

you nod, bringing a hand up to his pretty, contorting face. he can hardly help the subconscious part of his mouth as you tap your fingers against his bottom lip. like an obedient boy, he’s swallowing around the digits with a satisfactory gurgle of unwitting pleasure. curiously, your fingers creep farther down his throat, the tips brushing the very back of his wet tongue.

saliva drips from the corners of his mouth and he gags once, his sable, lust-ridden eyes welling with thick tears. the smile that mars your face is sick, but it’s pulling a loud moan from the depths of his chest. another helpless sound leaves him when your hand tightens around his weeping cock.

“god, i’m so close.” toji gasps around the digits in his mouth, peering down at his furious cock and your jerking hand. his jaw is falling slack, head dizzily slumping to one side. “f… fuck, it feels so good—your hand feels s’gooood. g-gonna cum, can’t h-help myself. you are just sooo pretty like this, baby.”

“yeah? you gonna cum for me already?” the coy tilt of your head makes his stomach sink. a victorious smile cracks along your face. “hardly touched you.”

toji nods dumbly, breath hitching. his hips stutter pathetically, rocking against the agonizing jerk of your fist. the most beautiful sound leaves him, something like a whimpering gasp, his heaving breaths shuddered and choked. it’s loud and shameless and like nothing you’ve ever heard. several, long ropes of pearly white cum follows, coating the expanse of his chest and abdomen like it was meant to.

it’s perfect. everything about this image is perfect. toji looks so pretty drenched and heaving in his own arousal. you watch as his warm, sticky seed trickles down his perspiring skin. you almost can’t help the curious fingers that are dragging along his pectorals, collecting the mess.

“don’t.” is all he mutters as you creep the cum-soaked digits toward his lips.

you smile sweetly. “open.”

and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, he does. he takes your fingers into his warm mouth with a deep, guttural groan, sucking on them until nothing remains. a triumphant smile graces your lips as you push them further, forcing a proper gag from the depths of his throat.

“okay! okay, you’re doing too much, doll… untie me now.” he grouses, drool pooling against his tongue.

you hum in contemplation, tracing mindless shapes against his skin. “and if i don’t?”

“if you don’t and i get out on my own,” he pauses, lifting his head slightly to take in this beautiful sketch of you before smiling something sinister. “you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

it’s a threat and you know it is, so why does it make your core tighten with a need you’ve never known? why does it make your mind race at the possibility of punishment? discipline? it’s merely a warning, yet your cunt aches at the thought of him escaping, it makes your body burn with a fire the begs to be doused and it’s toji who must do it, so you challenge him.

“then why don’t you get out and make me regret it.”

[honeyhotteoks]

an innocent man doesn't stand a chance (j.yh)

summary: it's halloween and your boyfriend has a fantasy. he wants to be the masked killer and for you to be the final girl, and he wants you to run.

note: this was written in a feverish haze of ghostface yunho brainrot, you can thank this fanart and this edit for making this one about yunho, but i have to give all credit for the idea to the nsfw audio creator augustinthewinter who's masked hookup audio killed me. also please read the warnings, this one is potentially very triggering.

warnings: ghostface!yunho x final girl!reader, boyfriend!yunho, hard dom!yunho, girlfriend!reader, sub!reader, sadism, masochism, knife play, primal play/chasing, threats of violence, heavy cnc that really looks like noncon because part of the play is that he wants her to struggle and say no BUT there are consent checks explicit throughout, rough sex, fingering, gloves, masks, breath play, impact play, mirrors, finger sucking don't look at me, dry humping, clothed sex, ripping off clothes, size kink, ass play, lots and lots of degredation including use of sl*t/wh*re/fvcktoy/c*cksleeve, yunho is seriously mean in this i'm not kidding, fear, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie, subspace, there's more i'm sure but this one is a doozy. also lots and lots of aftercare!! after a scene like this i had to write detailed aftercare and confirmation of limits, so that's there too! yunho is v sweet when not in the zone.

pairings: yunho x reader

genre: smut and more smut, no plot in sight

word count: 7.9k

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The house bumping with music and every corner decorated for Halloween. You’re late enough that you can just slip in through the back door, and that was the plan from the start. Yunho arrived first, nearly two hours ago, and made excuses for why you were late, for how you might not even make it to the party. No one would see either of you come or go together, so when you both disappeared to play your game no one would ever know. You had come up with the plan in bed, whispered fantasies and what-ifs between the sheets as he rewarded your willingness to try something new with his tongue. 

His fantasy is special, and to do it right you can really only do it on Halloween night. 

You weave through a throng of drunk acquaintances, searching the crowd for him, but it’s not as easy to find him as you thought it would be. You’re not sure how a six foot something Ghostface killer could hide from you in the crowd of your friend’s house party, but no matter how many rooms you check you can’t see him. Nervousness pits inside you as you check your phone and see nothing. He could be caught up with friends, he could be changing his mind, but you can’t tell if you can’t find him. 

Adjusting your very 90s costume, you dart away from the kitchen where a group of your girlfriends are pouring shots and weave your way into the back of the house. Maybe you can call him? Text him? Would that completely ruin the mood of psycho killer stalking? Maybe, but it’s been forty-five minutes and you haven’t so much as seen a sliver of his mask. 

You flick through your phone, checking for any new messages, and then scroll to find Yunho’s contact card in your phone. Your finger hovers over the call button as you lean against the quiet hallway wall, and then in your peripheral vision you see it. 

A dart of black, something looming, and when you finally turn your head, you see him. Ghostface, standing wide and imposing in the hall, blocking any way past him and back out into the party. 

“Spooky,” You sigh, tucking your phone away. 

Silently, Ghostface nods his head. 

The hair on the back of your arms stands up. This is it. 

“What? Are you looking for the bathroom or something?” You take a step or two towards him, leaning into the character you dressed for. 

He shakes his head. 

“Looking for me?” You bite the inside of your lip to keep from smiling. 

Slowly, he nods. 

“Mm,” You raise a brow at him, “what’s the line from that movie? You wanna play psycho killer?” 

His head tilts slightly to the side and he nods once again. 

“And who do I play?” 

He takes a step towards you and you fade back. 

Fear starts to spread through you, even with it all being pretend, you can’t fight the feeling that your subconscious drums up in your gut. 

He takes another step, and then another, and then you’re running. 

Spinning on your heel you push deeper into the house, away from the party and towards a line of doors down the hall. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, your stomach a bundle of nervous trembling knots, and your hands are so slick with sweat you can barely grab the door handle of the basement. It’s not as easy to run as it looks in the movies, especially not in a tight skirt and penny loafers, and you skid down the basement stairs taking them two at a time until you slip forwards and crash down onto your hands and knees. 

You don’t have time to assess the sudden sharp pain as the skin of your palm drags over the concrete floor though, so you scramble up in a flash and in a panic you weave your way deeper into the basement. 

It’s familiar enough to you, your best friend’s parent’s place. You know there’s a tiny half bathroom in the far back corner, a rarely used guest bed against one wall as you descend the stairs, a collection of old video games and movies, and then around the corner to the left more and more basement, more storage, more dusty nooks and crannies to hide. You’re frozen for a split second, trying to decide the best place to go where he won’t find you, but heavy footfalls on the stairs ring in your ears like drum beats and you don’t have time to weigh your options. 

You take off towards the bathroom, fumbling with the door again when you reach it. 

The masked man behind you doesn’t say anything, but you hear him moving. His feet are sure and quick, the heavy fabric of his robes making a whooshing sound as he darts forwards to try and close the space between your bodies. 

A panicked sound leaves your mouth as you tumble into the sink, clocking your hip hard on the porcelain and bracing yourself on the wall. Turning you reach back for the door, if you just get it latched maybe you can give yourself a second to think, to shimmy out of the very small, high set window. Pushing yourself into action you grab the door, he’s so close you can hear his breath, seconds away. Seconds away. 

The door stops abruptly as you throw your body against it, six inches from closing. You push again, but it doesn’t budge, and when you look down it’s clear you’ve lost this game. His heavy black boot is firmly set in the door’s path, and you know there’s no chance for escape. 

He crowds you instantly, leaving you no time to recover, his body pushing into the cramped space of the bathroom and flinging the door backwards into the adjacent wall. You stumble into the sink and he moves right up against you, the firm length of his body pinning yours in place. 

For a moment everything is still, completely and shudderingly still with only the sound of your hitched breathing and thundering heart filling the room. You’re not sure what you should do - beg? Plead? Stay silent and let him do what he wants? 

The masked man’s head tilts to the side as if he’s observing you, something you can’t tell through the ghostly plastic of his mask and dead black eyes. You’re trembling for real, hands shaking as they grip the cool porcelain. Ghostface leans into you, one of his gloved hands reaching for your face, a soft brush against your chin at first that turns to pressure as his fingers slide up your jaw to push you face to the side. It’s like he’s studying you, his hand slipping lower and dragging down your throat. 

Your breath comes faster, stomach tight. 

Ghostface closes his hand around your throat and your eyes widen. He holds you like this for a moment, his other hand locking down over your waist and gripping you tight, pinning you in place. 

When he squeezes, panic bubbles through your body. 

Yunho’s never choked you before. He’s never even suggested it, despite all your little jokes about how nice his hands would look around your neck. It seemed pretty clear to you that within the bounds of your relationship that was one thing he just wasn’t interested in, but whoever has you in the bathroom knows exactly how to hold your throat and where to press. Part of the fun is not knowing who’s beneath the mask, but your body still locks up, and an anxious voice inside you starts to wonder - what if? It’s not as if Ghostface is that rare of a costume choice, you see dozens of them on the street every year. It’s not inconceivable to think that at this party there would be more than one. 

Your heart beats in fluttering fits and starts in your ribcage as your mind turns over this possibility, and then he squeezes. The fight comes back into you full force when you hear him sigh, his hand tightening even more and cutting off your airway. You wriggle in his arms, pushing against his chest and trying to use your hips for leverage, a startled whine ripping from your throat, but fear laces through your body as you shove against him and realize just how immovable he is. 

Ghostface releases your throat, the same gloved hand slipping into the back of your hair to hold you steady. 

“No!” The word tumbles out of your mouth as soon as you can properly make noise again. 

He crowds you more, masked face dipping by your ear, “Shh, shh,” 

You freeze. 

“Safe word?” Yunho’s voice is a balm in your moment of sudden panic, his tone low and hushed. 

“T-treasure,” You manage it, the realization coming back into your body that this isn’t a total and complete stranger, it’s still him. Your fear starts to melt into anticipation. 

He gives you a squeeze, just one gentle pulse with his hand on your hip to communicate that he’s heard you, “Color?” 

You take a second to assess yourself. This game is intense in a way that you’ve never experienced. Yunho had tried to tell you how your body might react to this kind of manufactured fear, how it would play tricks on you, how even if you knew it was him your body would still have the urge to fight and flee. You knew it, but you didn’t really understand it until this moment. 

Yunho’s gloved thumb drags lovingly over your cheek for just a moment, “Color?” 

If he has to ask you a third time he’ll end the scene, you know he will, but the brief flicker of tenderness in his touch reminds you of everything you already know about him. He has you. You’re safe. This is a game. 

“Green,” You finally answer, “I’m green,” 

One more quick pulse to your hip, he’s heard you again. More than that, he’s pleased with you. 

His shoulders straighten as he draws to his full height, his body filling the space of the tiny bathroom and caging you in. You swallow tightly, audible in your ears and then he moves fast. 

His hands around your waist, lifting you up and then shoving you back until you’re sitting on the lip of the porcelain sink, uncomfortably balanced and pushed back flush to the mirrored wall behind you. You yelp when he moves you, hands scrambling for purchase on something, gripping the sleeve of his black cape in desperation. Fear and anticipation pulse through you, but he doesn’t give you a rest to get your bearings. 

He shoves your legs open wide and slots between your thighs and shoves your face to the side until your cheek is squished against the cold mirror, his hand a controlling brace from your jaw to the crown of your head. 

“You look so pretty running from me,” He strokes your face, but this time it’s not loving, it's possessive, it’s pure control. 

You grip the edge of the sink and whimper. 

“Should we play a little game?” He teases, “It’s Halloween, you must like scary movies,” 

Your breath quickens, “Y-yeah,” 

He drops his voice low, in a mimic of the movie, “What’s your favorite scary movie?” 

You’ve heard Yunho do that voice before, lazing on the couch last October when you had yourselves a movie marathon, the day he realized something about your favorite scary movie that turned you on, the day you called him out for being hard during a kill scene. It took a year for you both to work up the courage to actually act on any of those fantasies, but here and now with his mask on and his voice low, you feel that mix of terror and arousal bleeding through your body in a way only he can elicit from you. 

You can’t help the little smile that passes over your lips, “Scream,” 

“Meta,” He teases, pinching you hard on the thigh,  “for every question you get wrong, I’m taking something off you,” 

You swallow hard again. 

He reaches into his black robes and then you see it, shining in the reflection of the mirror and in your hazy peripheral vision. The glint of a real knife is unmistakable, the cool sharp edge of the steel crystal clear and you can’t stop the actual fear that jolts through you. You jerk in his hold, instinct driving you for a split second, and he pushes your face harder into the mirror. 

“Tch,” He makes a disappointed noise with his tongue against his teeth, “the game’s no fun if you don’t play.” 

He won’t hurt you, at least not in ways you don’t already like. You have to trust that. 

Settling yourself with a slow breath you summon the act he wants, find the fear within yourself and let it inform your words to give him what he wants. 

“Please, don’t,” You’re trembling is real, that you know. 

He shifts between your legs, drawing the knife closer, shifting it in his hand so he simply presses the cool flat side of the blade against one of your nipples. You hiss at the sensation, tightness building in your gut. 

“First question,” He drags the knife a little over your nipple, “What movie franchise is Jason from?” 

It’s an actual quiz, of course it is. At least he’s starting off easy. 

“Friday the Thirteenth,” You reply fast. 

“Correct,” He lifts the knife, and with the blade pointed away from you, he pushes up your tight tshirt until it’s bunched above your breasts. 

“I got that right,” You glance down at the way he’s touching you, breaking his own rules already. 

“Just getting a better view,” He insists, and then the cool knife is against your nipple again, only the thin fabric of your bralette between skin and steel. 

Your body is aching in this position, but you can feel the heat off his body, and the heady tone of his voice from under the mask still has you starting to ache in different places. 

“Let’s make this a little harder,” He taps the knife against you and you shiver, “what movie has a group of teenagers being stalked on an island by a killer fisherman?” 

“It’s,” You start to answer but he taps the knife again and you jolt, “fuck, it’s I Know What You Did Last Summer,” 

You watched it with him two weeks ago. You remember it, clear as day. 

“Wrong,” The knife twists, the tip gently skating over the swell of your breast. 

“Wait,” You start but he tips the knife under the center of your bra. 

“I Still Know What You Did Last Summer,” He clarifies the sequel, “they weren’t on an island in the first movie. I thought you liked scary movies,” 

“I,” You press back into the wall as the knife edge kisses your skin, “I… I do,” 

“You’re not very good at this,” He twists the knife and drags the sharp edge out so that it severs your thin bra in half, falling open and revealing your breasts to his wandering eyes. 

A little gasping sound leaves your lips, a desperate noise you try to bite back, but he hears it. 

He hums a soft, amused laugh and suddenly the knife is gone, sheathed and away and he leans into your space again, “You fucking like this, don’t you?” 

“No,” You insist, despite the way your stomach is in tight knots. 

“Did running away get you hot?” His gloved hand skims over your exposed body, “Do psycho killers make you wet?” 

“Fuck,” You whine, “no, no,” 

“Liar,” He whispers, and then he delivers a pointed slap to your thigh, “spread.” 

Your legs widen instinctively at his command, but he doesn’t reward you or praise you like he normally would, this is different. He reaches under the hem of your taut mini skirt, finding the apex of your thighs, and his fingers gently rub up and down from the base of your slit to your clit. A tiny gasp bubbles out of your throat. 

“Are you afraid?” He all but growls. 

Your stomach flips and his hand tightens in your hair, “Y-yes,” 

“Tell me you don’t want this,” He finds the edge of your panties and drags them to one side. 

“I don’t want it,” You answer him, body shaking now. 

“Tell me to stop,” One gloved finger presses into your entrance, the softness of the leather and the warmth of his skin beneath it making you tremble. 

“Stop,” You beg, “please, please, stop,” 

“Why would I?” He slowly pushes inside, stretching you around his finger, “When I know how wet being fucked by a stranger in a mask makes you,” 

A tense thready sound pulls from your throat as he adds a second finger. 

“If you don’t want this,” He pulses his hand once, forcing both fingers deep into your slick channel, “why are you panting like a dog in heat?” 

“N-no,” 

“If you don’t want it,” He whispers, “don’t come.” 

Your eyes shut as his hand starts moving, a steady pulse of his gloved fingers inside your aching cunt, curled just right in the way he knows gets you off fast. A pumping drag against your g-spot, the sound of his heavy breath, the unmistakable sensation of your own wetness making a mess between  your thighs. 

“Looks like you want it to me,” He adds the circle of his thumb against your clit and you jerk in his hold. 

“Stop, fuck,” Your nails dig into his forearm. 

“You don’t want me touching you, but you’re soaking my fingers,” 

“N..No, no,” You babble, heat pooling in your gut. 

“Fight it,” He pumps his fingers faster, drumming against your sweet spot, “don’t come,” 

You hiss sharply, pleasure dropping low in your belly, the sensation of his gloves and his hot hand too much to bear. 

“Moaning like you want it,” He laughs, pulling his hand suddenly out from under your skirt and yanking your head back to center. 

You yelp at the position change and the sudden lack of contact but he doesn’t make you wait for long. 

“Open,” He smacks your cheek lightly. 

Your mouth falls open and he shoves both gloved fingers between your lips. You choke against the suddenness, at the way he presses down on your tongue, blinking to clear the haze from your eyes. 

“Suck.” 

You shiver, your lips closing over his digits, the sharp taste of leather mixed with your fluids assaulting your senses and you can’t fight the moan, the way your eyes drift shut as you swirl your tongue. 

He hums, pleased, “Does it hurt?” He asks. 

His question doesn’t make sense, and you blink your eyes back open to look up at the cool passiveness of his ghostly mask. 

“Pretending you’re not a whore?” He clarifies and your mouth stills over his fingers. He pulls them out, delivering one more pointed slap to your cheek, and dives back down to plunge them back into your aching cunt, “Moaning like that, your nipples rock hard, and this pussy,” 

You choke, a bubble building in your core as he abuses your slick channel again. 

“Clenching around my fingers, sucking me in,” He chuckles, “I can feel you, baby,” 

“Fuck, fuck,” 

“Hold back,” He doubles his efforts between your thighs and you keen, “if you don’t want it, tell me to stop, don’t come,” 

“Stop!” You whine, giving him exactly what he wants, “Please, please,” 

“No,” His thumb rubs fast, his hand practiced at making you fall apart at the seams, “you come, you keep your eyes open, and you come all over my fucking hand,” 

Your breath is fast, heart pounding, and you feel the cord tightening in your belly in a way that makes you want to rub yourself back up into his touch but he has you pinned, stuck, at his mercy just like he wants. 

“Come,” His voice is clear, authoritative, and familiar. Like a trained response, your body releases and cracks open into a desperate orgasm, crumbling in his hands as you pitch forward onto his shoulder and grind your hips down to take the last little bit of what you need from his fingers. 

When his hand stills, you realize you’re still clinging to him and you jerk back, one hand over your mouth as you try to recover your breath. 

He steps back, his hands sliding off you and body slotting out from your thighs. You can’t see Yunho beneath the mask, but you know he’s looking. You can feel his hot gaze sliding over your body and taking in every wet and shaking inch of you. Your body is throbbing with need, but the game isn’t done, he hasn’t even made you touch his cock yet, and you know there’s no way you’re making it out of this basement without that. 

“Tell me again how you don’t like it,” He finally says. 

You shiver. 

“Cat got your slutty little tongue?” He prompts you again, voice hardening. 

You swallow hard, finding your words, “I didn’t like it,” 

“Mhm,” 

“I d-don’t want you to touch me,” You lie. 

“Yeah?” He teases, “Well then run,” 

“W-what?” Your eyes flick up to the impassive plastic of his mask. 

“If you didn’t like it, why are you still sitting there?” He takes a step to the side, clearing your path to the door and you slide off the edge of the sink, your loafers making a click onto the tile floor. 

You swallow hard, eyes darting out to the rest of the basement. 

“Come on,” He teases, and you can hear the sick smile in his voice, “try to get away,” 

You look between him and the room ahead of you again.

He leans forward and you shiver, his gaunt stretched mouth at your ear again, “I can’t fuck you if I can’t catch you,” his gloved fingers yank your top down over your exposed breasts and he chuckles, “better run fast.” 

You spring forwards, adrenaline pumping through your body and blood rushing in your ears. Leaping out of the bathroom he gives you a couple steps to get a head start, but he’s so much bigger than you, his stride so much longer, and he closes the distance with ease as you scramble in mock terror to get to the steps. 

Yunho’s arms close around you, hauling you up off your feet and against his chest, his touch rough and probing as he drags you up into the air. 

“No!” You shriek, “Fuck!”

“You think I’d really let you go?” He laughs, “After that?” 

“Fuck you!” The words bubble up out of your mouth. 

“That’s the idea,” His hand slides down your belly, closing over your cunt and cupping you tightly. 

Your body is reacting before your mind, and you jerk in his hold, kicking back your leg and catching him in the shin with the flat heel of your shoe. 

He groans and wrenches you higher in the air, “Keep struggling,” he pants, “I like it,” 

You twist again, trying to free one of your arms, but he has them pinned tightly to your body, “Get the fuck off me!”

“Not a fucking chance,” He takes two wide steps to the mattress and then tosses you down. 

You collapse onto the bed, the old and rarely used springs creaking under your weight, and your scramble forwards in some kind of an attempt to get your bearings, but he’s on you just as fast. He yanks you back with a hand around your ankle and in a flash he’s on top of you. 

He presses one hand firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned face down to the bed, and then his body weight drops down as he straddles the backs of your thighs. Your hands curl into the bedding beneath you, rough sheets and scratchy camp blankets, nothing soft and soothing to take a moment of comfort in. 

His free hand wanders, searching your body slowly. The sound of the party raging upstairs drowns out any competing noise, but you can still hear his heavy breath against the mask and your pounding heart, the sound of anticipation thick in the air around you. 

Yunho presses his hips forwards and you feel the thick hard length of his cock through his costume nestled against your backside. 

“Look at you,” He palms your ass, “shaking for me,” 

A whimper leaves you as his fingers dig into your back. 

“Do I scare you, baby?” He delivers a harsh slap to the back of your thighs and you yelp, “Are you fucking terrified?” 

Another slap leaves you trembling and you hide your face in the mattress, pressing your eyes shut tight. You love when he touches you like this and he knows it. You bite down hard on your lip to keep from whining, wetness pooling in your core. He wanted you scared, he wanted you fighting, you can’t give in just because his glove on your stinging skin feels like sin. 

He groans, his cock pressing down harder to your ass and you feel both his hands slide from your hips up to your back and back down again until he has a grip on your waist. 

A whimper slips out from between your lips.  

Yunho freezes above you, his thumbs massaging a quick circle into your lower back, “Color?” 

“Green!” Your voice is muffled by the bedding but you know he heard it. 

He groans, pulsing his hips to rut his cock against you again. 

Even between layers of fabric, you can feel the heat of him, throbbing and ready for you. Your mouth waters as you picture it, cockhead leaking precum and Yunho’s familiar hand wrapped around the base as he directs it to your mouth. 

“Little slut,” He chuckles and it pulls you straight out of your mental fantasy, “rubbing that ass on a stranger’s cock,” 

Your stomach clenches, and you twitch under him. 

“That’s fucked up,” He drops his body weight over you, one hand pushing your head to the side as he leans over you, “you’re so fucked up, aren’t you?” 

Your breathing is fast, a thready sound in your throat. 

“Aren’t you?” His voice is low, a shade away from a growl, and he rocks his hips again to rub his cock against you. 

“N-no,” You try to shake your head but his hand tightens against your scalp. 

“Liar,” He keeps grinding against you, his free hand snaking underneath your bodies to grope your breast, “I know a needy whore when I see one,” 

You moan into the sheets as he tweaks your nipple, tears springing to your eyes as he palms you, taking you apart with every touch. 

“Let’s see how you like this,” He pinches your nipple once more and you squeal at the sharp sensation that rockets through your chest, a sharp line down to your clit, and then he slides back and shuffles back to sit up over your thighs. 

He pushes the stiff fabric of your mini skirt up over your ass and then you feel the cold metal again. 

You jerk underneath him, and he tuts softly, the sharp edge of the weapon gently dragging over the curve of your ass cheek. 

“Tell me,” He grips your flesh tightly with one hand, painfully pinching, “do you still like scary movies now that you’re in one?” 

You shake your head, a whimper on your lips when the knife slips under the edge of your panties, “P-please, don’t,” 

He yanks the knife up and splits one side of your panties with a taut snap of fabric, “Please?” He taunts, “Please?”

You sob softly in response. 

“Is ‘please’ all you can say?” He delivers a sharp smack to your exposed ass check and you jerk under him. 

“I can’t,” You shake your head into the sheets, “I can’t,” 

He sighs, and you feel the knife shred the other side of your underwear and then you hear the sound of the blade clattering to the floor. With both hands free he palms your exposed flesh, squeezing you almost painfully and inspecting your exposed body. 

Shivers run through you, and you try to hold yourself still for his touches. 

“Which hole should I fuck first, hmm?” His fingers search you, probe you. 

Your body locks up tightly, a gasp on your lips. You hadn’t discussed that, and you shake your head. 

“Scared?” He ghosts his fingers over your rim. 

“Please,” It’s all you can manage. 

“Beg me,” He presses down with his thumb, “beg me not to fuck your ass if you’re so scared.” 

You scramble in the sheets but he has you stuck, “Please don’t, don’t fuck me like t-that, you’re too big, it’s too,” 

He massages one cheek and hums, “What should I do then?” 

“What?” You crane to look back at him, at the masked man pinning you down. 

“Beg,” He says it like he’s bored, like it’s obvious, “beg me to put it somewhere else, or I will fuck this pretty ass open and make you say thank you.” 

Heat floods your belly, your body a sizzling live wire, and you fall right into step with a heady whine, “Please, fuck my pussy,” 

“Again,” 

“Fuck my pussy, please, I’m begging you,” Your voice sounds needy and strange even to your own ears, “I need it inside me, g-give it to me please, fuck my pussy, please,” 

“Better,” His hands disappear into his robed costume and then he pushes forwards, his cock finally free and sliding up and down your slit to find your aching entrance. 

“Y-yes,” You drop your head back down to the bed and in one sharp thrust, he pushes his thick length all the way inside you until his hips are flush with your ass. 

Yunho groans, bracing himself with one hand on the back of your neck and the other on the bed beside you, the mattress creaking with every shift, “Needy pussy,” 

“Fuck,” You moan. 

“Greedy,” He punctuates his words with a sharp thrust, starting to pick up the pace now in earnest, “gripping my fucking cock like that,” 

All you can do is hold on, bite down on the sheets and let him use you, focus on the sensation of his impossibly hard cock driving in and out and in and out. 

“Are you crying for me? Hmm?” He rolls his hips, the fabric of his costume dragging against you as he fucks into you faster. 

Your eyes are wet, pleasured tears bubbling up and you nod, a tiny sob passing through your lips. 

“Good cocksleeve,” He presses down harder with his hand on your neck, forcing you lower into the mattress. 

Your back arches instinctively, and you whine at the angle change. A few more thrusts and you’ll be done for, you know it. 

“That’s it,” He pants, voice muffled by the mask, “come for me,” 

“C-close,” The words tumble out. 

“Come for me,” He stays steady with his thrusts, pushing your orgasm closer and closer, “come for me, come for me,” 

“Ah!” You fist the sheets, legs starting to shake, “Ah, fuck, fuck!”

“Come on this stranger’s fucking cock,” He grunts, shuddering above you, his fingers digging into your skin and no doubt leaving a bouquet of bruises behind. 

So close to the edge, just a little more will tip you over, and you whine, “Harder,” 

He gasps, forcing his pace to clap harder, deeper, and it only takes two pointed thrusts of his cock into the deepest parts of you to send you careening over the edge. 

“Coming,” You twist beneath him, moaning into your fist, “oh, god,” 

“Fuck,” He curses as your muscles clench and flutter around him, “fuck, oh fuck,” 

Your orgasm has your body locked up and shuddering, but when he pulls free suddenly you gasp into the bedding, “N-no, no, please,” 

He yanks off any scrap of clothing you have on with frantic hands and then rolls you in the sheets so that you’re lying on your back spread open for him. You try to form a sentence, to ask what’s happening but suddenly he’s tearing off his mask and the world slows to a stop. 

Yunho’s sweaty, flushed pink in the cheeks eyes blown wide with need, his plush lips parted and his chest heaving with labored breaths. In a flash he’s stripping off the costume, peeling off his gloves and kicking off his boots. 

“Come here,” He spreads your thighs wider and presses down over you, his cock finding your entrance with ease as he sheaths himself again in one thrust. 

You moan sharply and wrap your arms around his shoulders as he collapses over you. 

“Need you,” He pumps his hips, “have to have you,” 

Pleasure crackles up your body, “Yours,” you nod, “I’m yours,” 

He presses his mouth to yours, kissing you hot and hard, “Fuck,” he groans. 

Yunho gathers you closer, your slick bodies now flush together as he rocks into the warm cradle of your hips, “never heard you moan like that,” 

Your walls clench around him. 

“You wanted me to do this,” He groans between messy kisses, “you wanted to run,” 

You nod, lips pressed together. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” He pumps into you harder, like he’s desperate to get as deep as possible, “my dirty girl,” 

“Oh, fuck,” Your head falls back against the bed, a pleasured moan caught in your throat. 

“My little fucking slut,” He groans, tipping your hips open wider, his hands tight on your skin, “so desperate to come on stranger cock,” 

You whine sharply, nails digging into his back. 

“Say it,” He threads a hand through your hair and tugs your head back up roughly, “say it,” 

“Yes!” You whine, “Yes, I-I need it,” 

His gaze darkens, the cool mask of your dominant returning, and he slaps your cheek sharply, just enough to give you a pointed sting, “Need what?” 

Your brain is soft, fuzzy with pleasure, but the slap focuses you and you blink, “Need to come,” you pant as he thrusts into you, “on a stranger’s cock, need you to… fuck, need you to take it,” 

He nods, lips parting open in pleasure, “That’s right,” 

Your stomach tightens, pressure dropping low in your belly and you can’t stop feeling the way his cock punches into the deepest parts of you over and over again. Your eyes close tight and you hold onto him, one of your hands slipping up to his neck to tangle into his black hair. 

“Oh,” You’re so close, almost there, “Y-Yunho, oh, god,” 

His hips thrust forward once more, burying his cock impossibly deep and then he stops. That’s when you realize your critical mistake. 

“Is my cock so good you forgot your manners?” He says and your eyes fly open. 

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know how to recover, your head is too mixed up to know what’s up and what’s down and you’ve never played a scene where he’s a stranger before. You’re used to your rules, you’re used to calling him sir or daddy or master, but now you feel unmoored. 

“Now you don’t get to come,” He leans back, taking your wrists in his hands and pushing them down flat to the bed. 

You know better than to protest, but you’re sure he can feel you shaking. 

He drops closer, pinning you open with the weight of his body, his head nudging yours to the side, “Maybe you’ve forgotten who’s in control here, baby,” 

Liquid heat spreads through your body and you shake your head just a little. 

“So drunk on cock,” He bites at your ear, “you forgot you don’t want this,” 

Your pussy tightens, and you hear him chuckle. 

“Filthy,” He maneuvers your arms above your head so that he can close both your wrists together in one of his large hands, “fucked up little fucktoy,” 

Your eyes roll back and you fight the urge to move your hips, his words enough to put you on the precipice. 

A sharp slap stings over your exposed breast, your nipple hardening even more and Yunho draws his hips back before slamming forwards, driving you deeper into the squeaking mattress. At the painful stretch, the sharp sting inside, you do cry out. 

“Does it hurt?” He thrusts again, just as hard. 

You struggle under him, a little for play and a little because it does hurt, but you love the way he groans when you please him and you can’t stop, “Y-yes,” 

“Too bad,” His hand claps over your mouth and then he starts to fuck you again for real. 

Pleasure and pain in equal parts spike through your body, a perfect combination to get you right up to the edge of orgasm, but you know you’re not allowed. You moan into his hot hand, the sound feral and taut, tears gathering in your eyes and slipping down your temples into your hairline. 

Yunho slides the hand on your wrists up to clasp your hands together palm to palm, still pinning you to the bed but offering you a line of communication you desperately need in a scene like this. He doesn’t stop, but his eyes find yours in the dim light of the basement and he squeezes your hand once. You squeeze back just once, your silent sign to keep going. 

He keeps driving into you, cursing every time you moan and clench around his thick length, the mask of dominance slipping again as he starts to rut into you with artless, needy thrusts. He’s chasing his own pleasure now, with no regard for your own release. 

“No one’s coming to help you,” He groans, “you’re mine,”

 You can’t hear everything he says, not with your mind spinning so close to a forbidden orgasm and his pants and groans punctuating every few words, but you hear it when he says he’s coming inside you. 

Thrusting deep, he spills himself hot in your belly, hips grinding into yours to milk himself dry as he moans into your ear. The bubble of your own pleasure builds with every rock of his body and you whimper into his hand, tears spilling over as you try not to let it take you. 

Yunho’s hand pulls away from your mouth and suddenly his fingers are rubbing fast and firm on your swollen clit, his cock still buried deep. 

“Ah, n-no, please,” You grip his hand tightly and lock your eyes closed, trying to pull yourself back from the edge, “please,” 

“Fuck,” He groans, overstimulated. 

You’re going to come, there’s no way to hold back if he’s going to torture you like this and you thrash under him, “I can’t,” you’re sobbing in earnest now, “I can’t hold it,” 

“Shit,” He curses sharply, “come, sweetheart, come, I’m so sorry,” 

At his permission, your pleasure rips through you, a hot slice of rapture rocketing up your body. Your ears are ringing, black dots over your vision, and your body wrenches up with tight shakes in a way that only a soul shattering orgasm could do. You vaguely hear your own voice, a babbled string of ‘thank-yous’ and sobs, but it feels like someone else. All you know is warmth, and the deliciousness of earned pleasure. 

When consciousness starts to creep back in, the first thing you feel is Yunho’s gentle hands on your cheeks. He’s murmuring something, but it takes your mind a second to process, and you blink your eyes open slowly to find his face. 

“Hey,” He’s back to soft and warm, your tender lover, “oh, there you are,” 

“Mm,” You manage. 

He looks you over slowly, warm brown eyes flicking over your skin, “Does anything hurt, sweetheart?” 

You shake your head, still boneless and trembling in the scratchy blankets. 

“Hmm?” He nudges you, pushing for a verbal response. 

“I’m okay,” You respond, but your voice is small. 

Yunho, so attuned to you, looks back up and shifts up the bed to meet your eyes, “Feeling floaty?” 

“Mm,” You nod, recognizing distantly that the intensity of your play tonight pushed you right into subspace. 

“Ah,” He smiles warmly, “come here,” 

He gathers you close, arms wrapping around you as he tucks you into his chest and pulls the plaid camp blanket up higher over both of your naked bodies. His skin feels so essential, a necessity like eating or breathing, and you nuzzle into his warm chest. 

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, stroking your back, “you’re safe, you’re safe with me,” 

A heavy breath releases from your chest. 

“That’s it,” He kisses your forehead, “breathe with me, relax with me,” 

Your muscles release one by one. 

“That was just a fantasy,” He soothes you, easing the knotted up feelings in your body with practiced words, “it was just pretend,” 

You nod. 

“Just pretend,” He murmurs, lips tender against your forehead, “none of that was real, nothing I said. I love you, and I will always keep you safe, sweetheart,” 

Your fingers relax, and you realize how firmly you were gripping his arms. 

“There you go,” He murmurs, “I’ve got you,” 

“Yunho?” You manage, your body feeling heavy once again as you start to center. 

He shifts, cupping your cheek as he leans back to get a good look at you, “Right here,” 

“H-hey,” You give him a lazy smile. 

He nods, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “Tell me where you are?” 

“Basement at the party,” You answer. 

“Good,” He nods, “now tell me who you’re with?” 

“You, Yunho,” You reply, practiced now at the routine he uses to help ground you out of the scene and bring you back into reality. 

“Good,” He continues, “tell me three things you can see,” 

You glance around the room, “Old playstation, bicycle,” you look back to him, “your necklace,” 

He smiles as you touch the silver chain around his neck, “Good,” 

You stretch your stiff limbs in his arms and try to snuggle back into his hold but he’s not done yet, especially after a scene that new and that intense. 

“Any pain?” His hands slide over your body. 

“No,” You assure him, “a little sore, but I feel good,” 

He nods, but keeps looking you over anyway. When he turns your hands in his and finds your scratched palms a little line forms between his brows, “What’s this?” 

You look down at the red skin, a few shallow cuts here and there, “I fell,” 

“Fell?” His brow goes high with alarm, “when?” 

“When I was running, I took the stairs too fast,” You tell him honestly, “but it doesn’t hurt, I promise,” 

His fingers trace over the broken skin and he nods, “You promised you’d call the scene if you got hurt,” 

For how rough this man can be with you, for how many times he’s bruised you and made you bleed, he never fails to surprise you at just how tender and soft he is outside of the bedroom. 

“Baby,” You close your fingers over his, “you promised you’d trust me to know my own limits, I’m not hurt, I got a little scrape,” 

His lips close as he considers your words and then he nods, leaning in to kiss each of your palms warmly, “I want to disinfect these at home,” 

“Okay,” You murmur. 

“Anywhere else?” 

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head. 

“But sore?” He confirms.

“A bit,” 

His fingers find your jaw, massaging the muscle there, “When we get home, we’ll run a warm bath. I’ll take care of all your aches, I know I was rough with you,” 

You sigh pleasantly, relaxing into the warmth of his hand and he nods, dipping his face towards yours and capturing your mouth in a soft kiss. 

“You did so perfect for me, sweetheart,” he says softly, voice threaded with emotion, “I’m so… is it too lame to say honored? I… you were so amazing, and you trusted me like that and I,” 

“Yunho,” You smooth back his hair and pull him closer, “I’m alright,” 

His eyes flick over your face, “Yeah?” 

“Yes,” You give him the clarity he needs to know he didn’t hurt you, “you made me feel very safe, even though I was kind of terrified,” 

He stays quiet, like he’s gauging the honesty of your words. 

“Even when I was scared,” You lean in, kissing him quickly, “I knew you wouldn’t take it too far, and you checked in with me. I’m okay, I liked it, I love you,” 

“You didn’t push yourself too hard for me?” He always worries about that, the double edged sword of a submissive who’s desperate to please. 

“No,” You smooth your hand over his cheek, “I liked it alot,”

He nods and snuggles you closer, his fingertips coasting up and down your back softly. He’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting you both come down as easy as you can with thrumming house music upstairs. 

“You liked it?” He finally confirms, carding his fingers through your hair. 

You nod, “A lot,” 

“What I said,” He kisses the top of your head, “during, about you liking it, that was fantasy too, you know that right?” 

You’re quiet, taking in his words. 

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” He continues softly, “there’s nothing wrong with you for wanting it, all of that was pretend, okay?” 

“I know,” You kiss his chest, nodding against his shoulder. 

“I love you,” He squeezes you, “you know that too, right?” 

You smile, wiggling up in his arms to see his face, “I do,” you kiss him softly, “I love you too,” 

He nods and sighs, “I lost my head a little at the end there,” he admits, “I didn’t communicate well when you needed it, I’m sorry about that.” 

Your brows knit together in confusion. 

“I should have given you permission sooner,” He explains, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I forgot myself in the scene, I didn’t mean to push you so hard.” 

“Oh,” You smile, “Yunho, I’m alright,” 

“I know you are,” He dips in for a kiss, “but I’m still sorry,” 

“Thank you,” You murmur, pressing your lips back to his, staying warm and still and soft in this moment together, “I know you’ll always take care of me,” 

He nods, his broad hand brushing down your hair. 

“How was the party?” You nudge him a little. 

He smiles, “Fine,” he shrugs, “I was too focused on looking for you, I think everyone thinks something’s up with me.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine,” You laugh. 

“Mm,” He nods, “and now I disappeared and we made a mess of this basement,” 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you cut my underwear off, how am I supposed to get out of here,” 

“I brought backups,” He grins wide, proud of himself for thinking that far ahead. 

“You’re a genius,” 

“There is a back door out of the basement though, right?” He looks up around the room trying to find one. 

“Yeah,” You reach out, pointing around the back corner, “why?” 

“It’s extremely obvious that you’ve been fucked within an inch of your life,” He presses a quick kiss on your forehead and stretches next to you, so casual about the way he just rearranged your insides, “and I’m not so sure you’re going to walk straight,”

You laugh sharply and shake your head, “Take me home,” 

“Scary movies on the couch?” He squeezes your thigh as he rolls away, searching for his clothes. 

You shiver, “Maybe, that might be too close to home,” 

Nudging your knee he smiles, “Don’t worry, baby, it’s just a movie.”

[burytheruby]

I N A P P R O P I A T E

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

IN which Captain Price is your father, and your eyes are set on his lieutenant.

OR: you're down bad for Ghost, and your father isn't too keen on that.

MINORS Do NOT Interact.

Warnings: age gap, fem! reader, ooc, canon divergent tbh, little to no british slang bc i barely know american LOL. written from my phone please bear with me. also, do not get groomed, this is just fiction. WC: 1501

English is my second language, very self indulgent.

"m'gonna marry him, daddy!" Captain Price used to laugh about that, when your eight-year-old self would cling onto his arm while pointing at the twenty-one-year-old man who had just been recruited. it used to be an inside joke between the unit task, your father was oh so confident that you'd get over your childhood crush.

oh boy was he wrong.

every time without fail, when the squad would gather at your home during their leave, you'd take peeks to the living room, kitchen, or wherever they settled to talk. this ritual continued well into your pre-teenage years, right before you turned moody and too shy to even come out of your room. that's when Price thought it was over, what he didn't expect however was how you'd be so damn adamant on having Simon come over almost daily as soon as you turned eighteen. he was a seasoned captain, he wasn't oblivious to the way you'd eye his lieutenant, how you'd give him the coldest beer when it used to be reserved for him, the way you'd come every now and then and sit right across from The Ghost to "join in the conversation and catch up." nothing escaped his sharp eye, not even the way Ghost would sometimes stare your way for a little too long.

"he's emotionally unavailable, princess." he'd tell you, dropping you off for orientation day at your dream university. "he's a good lad, but he's got his own demons to fight." and he'd sigh as you slammed the car door on him. he could never deny your wishes, though, as he created a woman who was too determined—too set on her track who did not know the word defeat. but you were also just a kid—or at least that's the mental image of you in his head, a little girl with innocent thoughts who simply found his comrade to be cute.

"yer young and beautiful, m'sure those college boys are dying for ye." your father would tell you, almost begging for you to enjoy these years and experiment.

"but i don't want a boy." you would roll your eyes, having started your second year of university certainly made you into a character. you were confident—rightfully so, your beauty outshined anyone else. "i want Simon." you'd repeat like a broken record, and if it didn't make him want to strangle his lieutenant. how has time truly passed, he remembered when you'd call Simon by the name of Ghost, the name everyone used instead of his given name. but you weren't a part of the task force, there wasn't really a reason for you to call him Ghost for reason other than his signature balaclava and stitched-in mask.

you soon turned twenty, you were not a little girl anymore. his team had joined later in the evening to celebrate you, bringing you gifts and sneaked in alcohol for later when your friends would leave. it wasn't until Simon's arrival that you suddenly disappeared, but Price isn't a fool. he clutched the now empty can of beer, stopping immediately as he felt Gaz's reassuring touch on his shoulder. you were not a little girl anymore, you were a woman. he repeated in his head, no longer glancing over at the backyard door as he focused on the conversation between his comrades.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

"thank you, Simon." you smiled as he helped you put the piece of jewelry around your neck. a beautiful necklace of the metal of your liking—the one you always used when you dressed up so pretty, so dolled up. he looked at your face, his mouth in a straight line yet his eyes full of unspoken softness for you. he hummed in response, his gaze falling back down to your neck, where the necklace laid so neatly right under your collarbone, before it touched your cleavage. Simon tore his gaze away, he refused to look at you that way—not to his captain's daughter.

your smile faded as you noticed his lack of eye contact, your hand grazing his calloused one with gentleness. his eyes landed on yours once more, one hand moving the stray hair out of your face as he admired you, how you had grown to be a gorgeous woman. "we can't, love, m'way too old for ye." is what he said to you—to himself, to stop the pounding of his heart and the ache of having you so close to him. you shook your head in rebuttal, the frown of your brows making you more enticing to the man who towered over you with ease. you were determined, and he liked that about you—among the many other things that piqued his interest.

"don't care, Simon, i said i'd marry you." too determined, maybe. he scoffed at your words yet couldn't help it as the ghost of a smile appeared on his usually stoic face. "and i don't care about what old man has to say about it, i'm an adult for christ's sake." you held onto his hand, the one that laid so gently on the curve of your neck, feeling your pulse on his rough fingers. your eyes roamed from his eyes to his cheekbones, the scars on his face that added to his charm, and his slightly chapped lips that seemed to beg to close the gap between you. Simon noticed your lingering eyes, and he cursed under his breath as his fingers squeezed your neck softly.

"eyes up 'ere, love." his voice took you out of trance, eyes quickly darting back up to his as you felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment at being caught. you smiled in response, your own eyes getting lost on his gaze. a deep shade of chestnut, one that conveyed a turmoil of emotions. surely, he couldn't just court his captain's daughter, it's just wrong. no matter what her sweet eyes silently pleaded for, he couldn't just give in—hell, temptation is too strong. rough digits let go of your neck, reaching down to your waist so tenderly that anyone who looked your way would know.

you couldn't help it, not when he always tried to make you happy, to give you everything you deserved, for treating you the way he just did. with a pull of his jacket, your lips clashed passionately, desperately, as if you were to disappear, like a prayer that had been heard, you clung to him with your arms around his shoulders as he held you impossibly close. you sighed between the kiss, pulling at his bottom lip playfully before you returned to the steamy friction of your lips. a want, one Simon hadn't realized how much he needed, how much he craved. you were a woman, one so, so perfect. "so gorgeous," he hummed lowly against you, letting go of reddened, puffy lips. his words sent a shiver down your spine, relishing on his words, the ones that were only for you, always you.

Simon has never been rough with you– he couldn't even imagine being so, not when you're holding onto him like a lifeline, like he's everything you've ever wanted. he doesn't complain when you bring him up to your face again, breaths mixing in the silence of the yard, so silent you have both forgotten of the people inside your home. "Simon," you gasp in a plead, a withheld plea as the backdoor opened. he pulled away from you in an instant, his hand still on your waist protectively.

"everything alright?" Price asked, and you could hear Simon curse under his breath. you just knew your father did it on purpose, he had that mischievous look on his face you had inherited, one you both used when you planned something. his eyes bore on the point of contact between you and his lieutenant, and Simon found himself forced to let go of you with a grumble. Price's eyes fell on the pendant hanging off your neck, letting out a sigh as he closed the door behind him and walked up to you.

"gorgeous pendant, hun." his eyes found their way to his lieutenant on your side, a look on his face that was no longer a warning– but rather a petition (demand, more like) to keep his treasure safe. do not break her heart. you could almost hear his thoughts, shifting under his gaze as you observed the interaction. Simon gave a curt nod, a wordless promise of affection and protection. "you should hurry, s'getting cold." Price said after a moment, giving you a smile before walking back inside.

Simon found your smile endearing, the way it reached your eyes and made your face bright. his hand returned to your side, giving a playful squeeze before making its way to the small of your back once more. "let's go inside, yeah?" he murmured against your ear, and you couldn't help but think of how neatly wrapped you had him around your finger, always getting what you want.

an unforgettable birthday.

𐬺𐬽𐬾❤︎︎𐬾𐬽𐬺

made an entire account just to write this. i will be doing more, trust.

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)

[litt1e-prince]

i feel too tired i just DONT want to animate but i cant justify not doing smth related to school work- so uh. theres this ig.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC prompt. Fae!Danny x Jason. Dead on main. Death of a Fairy Tale. or

"Oh no! This tricky hooman stole my heart! What should I do?" *becomes a leader of his court and, just in case, overthrows the tyrant Pariah Dark in order to allow marriages with representatives of other races and live happily ever after with Jay*.

~~~~~

 “You're not allowed to be here. This is not your territory.”

Jason barely had time to catch his breath after escaping from the hot dog vendor when someone noticed him hiding in the bushes.

There were no rides for children or food vans in this park, so Todd didn't understand why anyone would cling to this territory but the guy looked at him with obvious concern. And well, after the morning's adventures, Jay didn't have any energy for another conflict at all. This kid looked pale and thin, so it didn't look like fighting with him would get him anything.

“Calm down, I'm just passing by. What's your problem, dude?”

“I live somewhere ne...here.”

Jason rolled his eyes. It's clear that the guy lived nearby, but it's unlikely that he had a house. The lack of a T-shirt and shoes hinted that in front of him was also a street rat who most likely had not yet learned how to defend his belongings. Poor guy. But this is definitely not Jason's business.

However, did he really spend the night outside in the open air? Sleeping on the bench was a last choice even for Jason. This might be acceptable options in some quiet provincial town, not in Gotham.

“I mean, what are you doing outside?”

Young Phantom checks his glamour, but finds no flaws in it. This man in front of him must be very knowledgeable and experienced, despite his young age, since he immediately recognized him as not a human being. For Danny, who lived with other fairies in Fairyland all his childhood and came to this dimension for the first time, the outside always meant the world of human. Fae shocked and upset that he was discovered so quickly. Haven't people almost forgotten about their existence? The elders would swear a lot if they found out that he had failed. The boy carefully orders the vine and clover to cover the circle of mushrooms, hiding the front door from the human. He was the only one of the entire brood entrusted by Undergrowth to start a practice in a city where there are almost no plants and sunlight, and faeling did not want to let down the mentor who took him under his wing at all.

The old Fairies claim that people are mean and narrow-minded, but Danny himself is intrigued by these creatures and therefore hopes that he will be able to come to an agreement with the boy and to continue his research without obstacles. Danny intends to take the exam for the right to be called an adult fae this decade, which means he has no right to make mistakes. But still, forcing a guy to dance until he drops dead from exhaustion or make him wander along the paths of this small green area without being able to find a way out, as he was taught to get rid of pests at home, seemed too cruel. This boy, just like him, is still a cub and he is here by accident, not to encroach on their possessions. They need not quarrel.

“Don't banish me. I'm just trying to learn.”

“To do what?”

“To steal.” Danny blushes, realizing that such honesty was unnecessary. Stupid, stupid...People know that faeries can take their names, thereby gaining power over them. Now this cub will definitely decide that he has come to cause harm and he will not be able to learn anything useful and interesting. Phantom quickly makes excuses. “Nothing important! I only borrowed trinkets and fruits.”

“You're new to this, aren't you?”

“Is it that noticeable?”

“Pretty noticeable, yes.”

The boy looked at him almost pityingly. And the Phantom didn't like it.

That's how the spirits and other fairies used to look at him when they found out he was only halfa. Because of this fact, his abilities were belittled and not taken seriously too often. What's wrong with that? He's dead just like everyone else, even if not completely.

And now he's screwed up, not even because of his nature, but because of his sluggishness. It was especially unpleasant, as it was deserved. He should have spent his time more productively, but the flowers bred with the help of humans were so interesting and talked about their longing for the sun with such sadness that fae did not dare to interrupt them.

Jason finished both of the stolen hot dogs and leaved the park. The guy still follow him and stares intently, almost without blinking.

“Stop it. What do you want?”

“I study. You seem experienced. “

“People don't really like being stared at like this, in case you didn't know. Back off.”

“Really?”

Jason was ready to be outraged that the kid thought he was an idiot but the tramp from the park looked really puzzled. It seems that if he ever had parents, they didn't care about the boy, since they didn't explain to him that atypical behavior could add him problems. The boy is lucky that Jay is an asshole only when absolutely necessary.

“You're weird. Try to keep your mouth shut near others.”

“Okay.”

Jason took a few minutes to think and sighed. Todd could not leave this strange child alone, because damn conscience would not allow it. He can't survive alone. He will either wander after some other person and become a victim of trafficking or he will be at the beck and call of some assholes in the late afternoon. Jason cursed his bleeding heart once more and promised himself that he would keep the boy by his side no longer than necessary. Jay couldn't afford to be responsible for another mouth to feed. Summer has already come to an end and it was worth starting to save a little money and store things in case of early cold weather.

“If I teach you some of my skills will you promise to stay away from the places where I…work?”

“Maybe. Is this a deal?”

“Yes, if you'll agree, idiot. “

Danny nods and his new acquaintance continues.

“First of all, we'll get you shoes and some clothes. I don't need you to pick up tetanus and some viral crap.”

Danny smiles a little, trying not to make it too noticeable. Great trick.

He nodded to indicate understanding rather than agreeing, and the boy did not ask for verbal confirmation. It seems that he is not completely hopeless at deceiving people. Phantom couldn't wait to tell Clockwork or Frostbite about his success.

They wound through streets and rooftops for a long time until they reached other man's temporary shelter, and Danny had to admit that the man's decision to borrow more clothes was very clever. Strange sharp things and narrow bags of biological fluid were found between the houses disgustingly often. The elders are right about something? Danny must admit. Some people are nasty. They didn't even clean the settlement they live in properly.

A foul-smelling device for carrying things flew into the face of fae while he thoughtfully followed the boy telling him something about removing so-called tires from the iron inanimate horses.

“Dude, stop fighting with a trash bag. You'll stand guard while I give the customer the goods, okay?”

“Fine.” To be honest, the intern was ready to cry from the injustice of life and rush home, and he was only stopped by the desire to visit the observatory, which his new acquaintance mentioned when fae complained that because of the smoke and smog the stars would probably not be visible at night.

Danny realized that he did not regret his decision when, a couple of minutes later, he heard his human quarreling with adult specimen. Judging by the conversation, the man refused to pay the price for the things brought to him and even threatened to hit Phantom's guide. Danny was annoyed by this and decided to intervene a little. To his good fortune, on the balcony of this vile man there was a pot with withering petunias and they did not mind helping lil fae teach their owner manners. A slight whiff of magic and the pot falls on the deceiver's head and human begins to choke on the roots that climb right into his mouth. Danny giggles, congratulating his green comrades on their successful revenge. Other boy doesn't waste any time and grabs the bucks that fell out of the customer's hands and orders new boy to run.

Danny spent several days with human cub and really learned a lot about these creatures. Despite the fact that such a pastime was exciting, he needed to at least create the illusion of practice the fae skills.

It is dangerous to ask a person who knows who he is about this but teachers will be upset if he does not make an attempt. And despite the fact that the people around him seem scary, Nocturn will be much scarier in anger if he finds out that Phantom is such a loser.

“Ma- Can I have your name?” Danny muttered uncertainly and immediately panicked at his own impudence. “Sorry!”

“Jason.”

Todd was in a good mood, as luck had been with him for the last few days, and the new companion was not at all as useless as it seemed to him from the beginning. He was able to hide so well that no one could detect them, and managed to bring fresh fruits, vegetables and mushrooms to their safe house. However, there were problems with the last one, since this strange dude sometimes brought toadstools and satan's boletes to their apartment, which he managed to get from unknown places. Jason thought he was going to have a heart attack the first time he caught child happily eating raw fly agaric. Indeed, if Jay hadn't found him this boy would probably have died of poisoning in that park by now. Todd had to persuade him to bring only chanterelles, which he could confidently identify as edible and not fear for their lives every time the boy tries to help find food. And his padawan really managed to find them. In Gotham. Holy shit. Maybe this park, so fiercely guarded by the boy, was another secret area for Poison Ivy's experiments? However, poisonous specimens will not be wasted either, since you never know when you will need to defend yourself without entering into a fight, but acting more subtly.

“Real name! Real one!” The boy's eyes were as big as saucers and he became very worried and waved his hands as if trying to shake off invisible sticky threads from his fingertips. “You shouldn't say your actual name! Why did you do that? You shouldn't have given it to me.”

“There are a lot of Jason's around. Why do you care about that?”

“You're not just some Jason, you're my Jason, you're important to me. It's dangerous if someone has your name. Then that someone can make you do bad things.”

Tears began pouring down boy's face and Jason was surprised by such a violent reaction. Todd doesn't think there's anything to worry about, since he didn't tell the stranger his last name. He often introduces himself in different ways. Just, for some reason, something made him be honest this time. But how would this guy know that?

“Well…You're not just anyone. We're friends. I don't think you're going to rat on me to the cops or anything. So it's okay. “ Jay tries to calm the newcomer down.

“Friends?”

“Yes. Friends forever?” Jason teasingly holds out his little finger, offering a childish oath that he recently taught his padawan.

“Forever.” The boy supports the oath, and then, after thinking for a second, leans closer to Todd and whispers. "I'm Danny, just so you know."

“Good. I'll remember.”

The young fae is overcome with euphoria. He took the name! He did it! But that was all the other boy had, apart from a rusty tire iron, so it probably wasn't right or friendly to keep it. The human cub helped him. Danny couldn't keep such a gift. He didn't even really try to get his name. “Jason is your name.”

“That's right, buddy.”

“I won't call you that name.” Where I come from, even spouses rarely know each other's names. Danny wanted to assure his friend that he should not be afraid that he would abuse his power. “ I like you so I will take full responsibility for the possession of such a gift, don't worry.”

“Hah, in order to take responsibility, you already need to at least marry me as a moral compensation, given the number of brain cells killed by your antics. “

“Well, if I have to, then I will. When we're older.”

Jason snorts and shakes his head. It's probably not love, since they're just kids, but still, Jason thinks that if all autumn evenings were like this, he wouldn't mind spending his life with Danny, snuggling closer to the boy while they both bask under the same blanket. No matter how many times a day they managed to roll in the mud and fall into the trash can, the boy always gave off a light scent reminiscent of spring greens, which reminded Todd of something warm and cozy. Maybe a home? Although when his father was not in prison yet, his house smelled more like the stench of cigarette smoke and mold.  So Danny was more like a hope for a good home that they write about in books.

On their free evenings Jason usually entertained them by reading. Danny has always been an attentive listener, reacting vividly. After stroking the battered cover of a new book he found, Jason puts it aside. He's too tired today, and  just wants to listen.

Noticing this, Danny begins to chirp about his homeland. His stories are like fairy tales, too bright and colorful for the stone Jungle. Jay realized a long time ago that his friend had something like a defense mechanism. Todd himself snapped and fought when the world was too cruel, this guy escaped to his fictional world, where he was safer and happier. His friend could have been a great writer someday. The descriptions of Princess Dorathea and her cruel brother, pharaoh with an unusual passion for technology and ultra-recyclo vegetarian queen of plants were so detailed and vivid that they seemed true. Danny's imagination contained the whole world.

When the first snowflakes fall to the ground, Danny says that this means that his friend Frostbite will soon come to pick him up. Jason is honestly not ready for such a turn of events. He promised himself that he would not be around another boy for longer than necessary, but he managed to get attached. He hopes that this statement is just another one of his companion's fantasies and forgets about it for a while.

A snowstorm is raging in the city when Danny does not return home. The snowfall does not stop for several days, and Todd realizes that his friend left him, although all his belongings are left in their apartment. He hopes that someone really came for the boy, and not that in the spring his body will be found in one of the melting snowdrifts.  After a few months, when the canned homemade vegetables carefully cooked by Danny are coming to an end, and the mold, sitting alone  in a corner of the ceiling all winter, felt the first the warm rays of the sun, Todd decides not to waste energy on useless worries and hopes.

Soon, as Danny would put it, Batman steals Jason. Todd doesn't really trust the old man at first, but he teaches him to be Robin, and, well, Robin is cool. He's magic. Robin is an urban legend, a spirit worthy of being the hero of Danny's favorite stories. Robin is Jason's connection not only to the city itself, but also to his past. Robin does not need to think about whether he should grieve not only for his mother but also for his friend. Robin is more. There is not only strength and hope in this uniform, but also memories, nostalgia and  humanness. Therefore, Todd is not ready to give up the suit, even if he understands Grayson's displeasure. Because when he goes out on a patrol, the longing becomes less, and he feels that he is getting better and closer to something important. It helps.

No.

It helped.

And then he died.

And things are getting worse by the day, hah.

~~~A few hits with a crowbar later~~~

Jason learns about a new attempt of eco-terrorism relatively late, when he is officially called to help. Even so he stays at the place of the fight before the rest of the family. Firstly, because this time Ivy decided to start destruction from the closest to Crime Alley park, and secondly because Ivy's creations always pay little attention to him. Even the famous pollen has almost no effect on Hood.

Making his way through the furiously writhing vines, Red Hood notices the enemy and realizes that it is not Ivy, but decides that he will analyze the situation during the battle and rushes forward.

“Hey! Don't touch B, you.. “Almost flying into a guy with such a familiar face, the Hood slows down sharply “... pointy-eared.”

A guy with sparkling green energy in his hand and a vigilante with a pistols in each hand freeze looking at each other.

“Man, is it you?”

Snow-white hair, glowing green eyes, transparent dragonfly-like wings and razor-sharp claws are completely unfamiliar to Todd, but facial features, expressions and a bracelet with star pendants that Jay gave Danny for his birthday, adorning one of the impressive polished horns, allow to recognize him.

“Jay! It's been a long time, my friend.” Hearing Todd's voice, despite the sound changed by the helmet, the creature calms down. “You've grown up a lot.”

“And you're still so short. Wow. And, by the way, I can't believe you're still keep it.” Red puts the safety of the guns and then points one of them at the jewellery. “It's from a dollar store, nothing special.”

John says goodbye to the hope of a day off after the mission, cursing the manners of the bat and his offspring. Is a couple of days without the risk of interdimensional conflict really that too much to ask for?

“You gave it to me. That's why it's special.”

The creature smiles and Todd feels his face blushing. It's a good thing he's still wearing his helmet. Danny looks too…magical…in every sense.

“Do you know him, Hood?” Of course, Bat cannot stay out of the conversation when nothing is holds him back.

“No.”

“Yes.”  Danny denies the statement of Hood, proudly puffs out his chest and declares. “He was my first. He calls himself Hood these days? How strange.”

Bat gasps and exhales indignantly.

Jason quickly connects the fact that his friend is definitely not human with the possibility that Danny's stories were true.

“Name!” Trying to fix the chaos that his friend is trying to involve them in, Red Hood hurries to explain. “He's talking about damn name. I'm the first one who gave...”

“Oh, come on, spoilsport. He almost believed me.” The fairy winks playfully and Jason has to do his best to focus on the mission and not on the guy. “You're my betrothed anyway. And, hey, I collected the library as a wedding gift.”

“Hm.” Hood rolls his eyes. This joke about their childhood promise would have been hilarious if he hadn't felt the old man's rising pressure behind his back. So, returning to the problem, he still needs to get these two away from each other as soon as possible. Neither Danny nor Bruce has a calm personality, and Jason didn't want to start Danny's acquaintance with Alfred by giving first aid to these dummies. “So what's all the fuss about? Are you like um.. Ivy's pet-pixie or what?”

Now John Constantine, who carefully watched the meeting from the sidelines, almost feels his blood pressure rising too. Compare faeries with garden pests. What was Batman's son thinking about, showing such disrespect? He wanted them to have more problems or what?

“Hm? Who is Ivy? I've never heard of her. To be honest, I'm only here because our gate was disturbed.” The fairy chirped angrily and, with a nervous flutter of his wings, flew up to the bushes. His finger pointed accusingly at the crushed mushrooms that John and Batsy had landed on when they unsuccessfully attacked Dr. Isley. “But even though your companions' behavior is inexcusable, I don't blame you, of course. I am glad that we met again because of this incident, Tagetes.”

The Faerie circle...John hadn't seen this in years. Damn Gotham. He difenetly doesn't want the problems of this crazy city to fall under his and Shazam's responsibility. Now it is clear why Rogue disappeared so quickly. She probably knew about it and wanted to make them someone else's problem. Damn it twice, John should have sent a message instead of coming to Gotham to discuss business with Wayne. Being uninvited guests of such mischievous and malicious hosts does not bode well.

“You are lucky that the Fright Knight is not on duty today. But someone will have to answer for it. Is it really so hard to look at your feet? Or is this a deliberate provocation? I demand an apology.”

“No, enough games for you. They're a little busy chasing someone, in case you didn't notice.” Jason starts pulling on his friend's hand, intending to take him out of the park. Next to these paranoids, it's better not to ask an old friend about anything. “Only good little fairies are invited to my safe house to taste my signature lasagna today, so stop trying to give my old man a heart attack, okay?”

“Wait. Is this Willis?” The fairy's eyes narrow and he looks at the cloaked dark figure with disapproval.

"No, another jerk. B has a problem with adoptions and that's the reason I'm now part of his brood." Jason reluctantly explains. "He literally dragged me off the streets without consent after I tried to take the tires off his car."

“Oh my Ancients, he did what?! But you're mine! He had no right to steal you.” Danny indignantly rustled the leaves of the closest trees.

“I prefer to be considered as my own man, thank you very much.”

“Riiight…but still, speaking absolutely one hundred percent theoretically, who would you rather stay with, darling? If only you were mine~”

“Ja-..Don't let yourself be fooled, Red Hood. You can't trust him. Ten or even fifty years spent on a prank don't mean anything to this creature.” Bruce doesn't look happy with how at ease Todd is with the threat, but frankly, he rarely looks happy at all, so the crime lord doesn't attach too much importance to it.

"Wow. Rude. This is partially true, but it still hurts. Jason is a friend. I won't do anything to him and I don't demand anything from him. I can't say that about the rest of you. I was preparing for a long-awaited vacation, and because of your fuss I have a new bunch of paperwork to do. What can you say in your defense?"

The boy with the snow-white hair didn't look really upset, but just because there was still a smile on his face, it couldn't be said that he wasn't furious. Next to fairies, all human senses became enemies, not allies.

Despite the deceptive good-naturedness of merrily fluttering his wings guy, John was on high alert. Short-tempered, playful and obnoxious temperament were both a blessing and a curse when working with these creatures. Fairies skillfully searched for loopholes in contracts and in general were the best deceivers among those who could only tell the truth. Faeries prefer to bend victims to their will with words, but they are skilled users of the magic of nature and chaos. They also, despite the business acumen as strong as the alligator's mouth closing strength, were willing to play cat-and-mouse with those who dared to turn to him for help or just walk near their possessions. And this specimen was also clearly not one of the fairies that Morningstar had taken over control, since his energy reeked of Infinite Realms. Unknown territory. John urgently needs to come up with some ingenious plan to get everyone out of this fighting safe and relatively unscathed and…

“Fuck off, B. I told you he already has my name. If he wanted to hurt me, he would have done it at any time. You should show more respect for your future son-in-law, you know.”

“Jason, honey, since when do street rats hang out with bats?” Danny obviously didn't have much sympathy for the Gotham vigilante before, but because of his story, their chances of getting along tended to zero.

“Oh, come on, don't even start this conversation. What is more important…Who would I rather stay with? Hm…Let's say, um, theoretically, of course…If your fiance was killed by one very very bad cruel clown, what would you do, Stardust?

"I would tear clown molecule by molecule."

“Yes, yes! Right!” Jason pats Danny on the shoulder and turns to Batman. “See, that's how you should have reacted.”

Constantine: …What an Addams family. I'm leaving. I've already seen enough. If you get kidnapped, don't call me. Damn freaks.

Come with me now to see my world

Where there's beauty beyond your dreams

Strangers Like Me - Phil Collins

[hoshifighting]

       hoshi + wet dream(z)

— “teacher, please, don't make me stand up” hoshi thinks when he just realized he had a wet dream about you, his roomate, at class.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, inspired by ''wet dreamz'' by j.cole (just a hint of it), oral (f. & m. receiving), dry humping, cock riding, mentions of handjobs and jerk off.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

soonyoung’s dead to the world, head down, cheek smushed against his arm, that dumbass hoodie string sticking to his lips. honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t drooled yet. professor kim’s yelling about some kid in the front row not having their project finished on time,

but soonyoung? yeah, man’s out cold. he probably crashed after staying up too late again, messing around, doing who knows what. typical. you try to take notes while glancing at him every few minutes, but then something shifts—his leg jerks under the desk, his face scrunching up like he’s in serious trouble.

and that’s when you notice his fingers flex, the furrowed eyebrows, the faintest shift of breath slipping through his lips like he’s...no, no way. your eyes narrow, and you kick the side of his foot, just to check. the dude grumbles in his sleep, biting his lip hard.

oh god, this idiot’s having a wet dream. right here. in class. you’re both gonna get expelled.

meanwhile, in soonyoung’s head? oh, it's something else. it’s you, of course. you’re wearing that tight little top, the one with the low cut that gives him a peek every time you lean over his bed to wake him up for his dance recitals. and you’re smiling at him, all innocent and sweet, but your hand is somewhere down his stomach, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats, tugging him closer, stroking his cock, making him moan your name in this barely-there voice.

and just like that, you tap him on the shoulder, your voice cutting through his dream like a slap to the face, “soonyoung, you good? you looked like you were having a nightmare or something.” trying to keep it lowkey so the whole class doesn’t start looking over. your hand's still resting on his shoulder when you see his eyes snap open, like he’s been hit with a lightning bolt.

nightmare? nah, he wishes. he blinks up at you, disoriented as hell, blinking twice to focus. the way your boobs are hanging in front of him in that low-cut shirt? shit. it’s like his dream didn’t even end. he can barely breathe, eyes glued to you as you lean in, not even noticing the way his gaze drops right to your chest.

he shifts again, pressing his thighs together under the desk, praying to whatever god is out there that professor kim doesn't make him stand up, because, fuck—he’s so hard it’s practically poking through his jeans. if he stands up right now? boner’s definitely gonna slap someone in the face. maybe the fella sitting in front of him.

he panics, trying to will it down, but nah, not when he remembers the way your tits jiggle when you run to catch the bus with him, or how you’ve always been so nice to him, helping him clean up his absolute wreck of a dorm room like you actually care. you’re so fucking nice. and hot. being sweet like that makes you even hotter.

“dude, what the hell?” you frown, and he feels guilty for all of a second, ‘cause you’re just looking out for him, being a good roommate and all, and here he is, thinking about how badly he wants to—

“uh, no—no, i’m fine,” he stammers, swallowing hard, forcing himself to look anywhere but at your cleavage. jesus, how are you real? you’re too fucking hot for your own good. “just—uh—tired, y’know?” his voice cracks, and it’s a miracle you don’t ask why he’s shifting so awkwardly in his seat, arms crossed tight like he’s hiding something.

you blink, clearly not convinced but too busy to care. “okay, well, maybe you should get some sleep tonight instead of staying up watching dumb youtube videos.”

he laughs nervously, shifting in his chair, again, trying not to let his boner ruin both of your lives. “yeah. yeah, totally.”

but honestly, he’s praying the class ends soon, ‘cause if professor kim makes him stand up, his whole life's over.

the class ends, and the signal bell’s barely even faded before soonyoung’s out of his seat. like, out. he snatches his backpack and casually—well, tries to be casual—slides it in front of him, covering the situation in his pants like his life depends on it. which, yeah, it kinda does. you watch as he bolts for the exit, practically crashing into the doorframe on his way out. you’re left blinking, a little confused.

“where tf are you going? we still have p.e,” you type, texting him quickly as you pack up your own stuff.

a few seconds later, your phone buzzes.

soonyoung: dorm.

what the fuck? you stare at the screen, baffled. you know this man loves dodgeball more than life itself—hell, he’s usually the one pelting people with those foam balls like it’s the olympics. but now? he’s bailing on p.e.?

you shoot off another text. “??? bro, dodgeball’s about to start, what’s your deal?”

his response comes in almost instantly, a little too fast.

soonyoung: not coming. sick.

right. you raise an eyebrow, but whatever. his loss. maybe he really is coming down with something, ‘cause skipping p.e. is like skipping oxygen for this guy. but, as you head down to the gym, you can’t help but wonder if something’s off. especially the way he bolted earlier.

halfway through dodgeball, it clicks—oh shit. it’s gotta be you. he’s been weird since you woke him up in class, and now, you’re running around in your sports bra and high-waisted shorts, the same ones you always wear. that might explain it. he’s probably freaking out over that damn wet dream, too embarrassed to face you.

good. let him sweat it out for a bit. serves him right for ditching.

by the time you make it back to the dorm, you’re drenched in sweat, breathing a little heavy from running around like a maniac all period. the heat from dodgeball is still clinging to your skin, and all you want is a cold shower. you toss your bag onto the couch and kick off your shoes, stretching out your arms as you step into the kitchen.

soonyoung’s there, standing awkwardly by the counter with a glass of water, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for like, a second before darting away. something’s definitely up. he’s acting weird.

“yo,” you call out, wiping a hand over your forehead, “where the hell did you go? you missed dodgeball, man. you feeling alright?”

he shrugs, not looking at you. his face is all tight, like he’s focusing way too hard on drinking his water. “yeah, just… didn’t feel like it.”

“didn’t feel like it?” you echo, narrowing your eyes at him. “you love dodgeball.”

he just grunts, and you catch him glancing at you, real quick, before his gaze shoots right back to the floor. you follow his eyes and—oh. oh. right. your sports top’s soaked through, sticking to your skin, and you can literally feel his eyes tracing every damn inch of it. it’s not like you’re trying to be a tease, but something about the way he’s avoiding you makes you want to push him a little. just to see how much more uncomfortable he can get.

“you sure you’re okay?” you ask, stepping closer, watching his ears turn red. “you’ve been acting weird since class. did something happen?”

he shakes his head so fast you think he’s about to give himself whiplash. “no, nothing happened. i’m fine.”

yeah, right. you chuckle to yourself, brushing past him toward the hallway, but not before you notice the way his eyes drop again, glued to the sweat clinging to your back, the way your skin’s gleaming in the low kitchen light.

“whatever, weirdo. i’m taking a shower.”

you leave him standing there, all fidgety and red-faced, as you disappear into the bathroom. you close the door behind you and smirk, wondering just how long he’s going to keep up this act.

you step out of the bathroom, towel slung over your shoulders, hair damp and sticking to your neck. the warmth from the shower did little to wash away the tension in your head, the lingering feeling that something was off. soonyoung hadn’t said more than three words since you got back to the dorm, and it’s weird. too weird. normally, he’s all over you, making dumb jokes, bugging you about something, throwing himself onto your bed like it’s his second home—with wet hair to freak you out. only for him now be holed up in his room, glued to his phone, avoiding you like the plague.

and for some reason, you hate it. the silence. the way he’s brushing you off. you’d rather have him drenched in rainwater, messing up your sheets like always than whatever the hell this was.

hair dripping slightly onto your t-shirt, you pad over to his room. the door’s half-open, and there he is—soonyoung, sprawled on his bed, phone in hand, scrolling like he’s actually interested in whatever’s on the screen.

you don’t say anything at first, just step into the room and sit beside him, sulking as you grab onto his arm. your fingers squeeze lightly, and you glance at him, expecting some smartass remark or at least something. but all you get is a quick look from him, eyes darting from you to the phone. nothing more. then he turns back to the screen like you’re not even there.

“seriously?” you mumble, rolling your eyes. his silence is starting to get to you now, and your frustration boils over. fuck this. you reach over and snatch the phone right out of his hand, holding it up in the air, out of his reach.

“what the hell—” soonyoung tsks, sounding more annoyed than anything. annoyed, yeah right. he sits up quickly, leaning in close as he reaches for it, but you keep it out of his grasp, grinning despite yourself.

“tsk. give it back,” he grumbles, his hand wrapping around your wrist, but you refuse to budge. his eyes flash up to yours. “seriously, y/n. stop.”

you tilt your head, eyes locking onto his, something playful and challenging bubbling up in your chest. “not until you stop being a weirdo. what’s your problem? you’ve been acting like i’ve got the plague since class.”

he tugs at your arm again, trying to reach the phone, but you just hold it higher, raising your eyebrows at him. your other hand grabs onto his shoulder to steady yourself, and you’re both so close now that you can feel his breath on your neck.

you want him to say it first. to admit whatever the hell’s been going on in his head.

“come on, soonyoung, just talk to me.” your voice softens a little, though there’s still a teasing edge to it. “you’re not really pissed, are you? what, did i embarrass you in class or something?”

he huffs, falling back against the bed again, hands covering his face in frustration. he mumbles something, but it’s too muffled to understand.

“what was that?” you press, your hand still gripping the phone. you lean in closer, hovering over him, trying to peek through his fingers.

he groans, louder this time, and lets his hands drop to his sides, staring up at the ceiling like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “just… forget it, okay? you’re making it worse.”

“worse? worse how?” you shift, sitting cross-legged on the bed now, leaning over him with your phone still clutched in your hand. your knee brushes against his hip, and you see his jaw tighten for a second. “soonyoung, come on, talk to me. why are you acting so fucking weird?”

he lets out a long breath, rubbing his palms over his face like he’s trying to scrub the answer out of himself. his lips press together, eyes squeezing shut before he finally mutters, “i didn’t want you to see… that.”

“see what?” your voice drops lower, curious now, your hand letting the phone slip down beside you. you’re so close to him now that your hair is starting to drip on his shoulder, but neither of you moves away. you watch the muscle in his neck tense as he swallows hard, lips parting slightly.

“you,” he finally breathes out, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. his cheeks are flushed now, the embarrassment clear in every line of his body, but he doesn’t look away from the ceiling, not even once. “i—fuck, i was dreaming about you. okay? in class. and then you woke me up, and i—shit, i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about… you.”

you smirk a little, shaking your head. “so… wait, you’ve been avoiding me because of a dream?”

he groans, hands covering his face again. “it wasn’t just a dream, okay? it was—god, this is so fucking embarrassing. you were… you know.”

“no, i don’t know,” you tease, shifting your weight slightly so you’re leaning in even closer. “why don’t you tell me?”

he glances at you then.

“you were all over me,” he mutters finally, his voice low, “in this tight shirt, and you wouldn’t stop touching me. it was fucking killing me, okay? i woke up and—god, i just couldn’t look at you. i’ve never seen you like that before, and it… fuck, it messed with my head.”

you raise an eyebrow, not quite expecting that level of honesty. but something in you can’t resist pushing him a little more. “so that’s it? you were just… turned on, and now you’re too embarrassed to even be around me?”

he groans again, this time louder, pressing his hands into his eyes. “yes! fuck. yes. happy now?”

“actually?” you grin, leaning back slightly. “yeah, kinda.”

he looks at you, “you’re the worst.”

“yep.” you sit back up, holding his phone just out of reach. “but i’m also not giving you your phone back until you stop acting like i’ve got cooties or something.”

he rolls his eyes, sitting up again, this time without the fake annoyance. there’s a look on his face you can’t quite read, somewhere between embarrassment and frustration, and it makes your stomach flip. maybe there’s more to this than just a dream.

“you’re really not gonna let this go, are you?” he asks, voice softer now.

“nope,” you say, smiling. “not a chance.”

he sighs, shaking his head. “fine. just… don’t make this any weirder than it already is, okay?”

you glance down at his lips, and something inside you shifts. you tilt your head slightly, eyes locking with his as you whisper, “trust me, i won’t.”

and before he can react, you lean in, pressing your lips against his. it’s soft at first, a hesitant brush of mouths, but then you feel him melt into it, his lips parting as his breath hitches. the kiss deepens, and soon enough, you’re straddling him, your thighs pressing into his hips, and his hands—hesitant at first—grasp onto your waist, unsure but needy.

the second you feel his grip tighten, you take control. your hands snake around his neck, pulling him closer as you grind down against him, making you feel the hard length of his cock, even through the fabric of his sweats. his breath catches, a quiet groan escaping from his throat as your hips rock against his.

soonyoung’s head falls back against the pillow, eyes half-lidded as his fingers sink into your skin, he doesn’t know what to do with himself—he’s trying to keep up, but you’re driving him crazy. his hips jerk up to meet yours, but it’s too much, too fast. he’s never been this turned on from just kissing before, and it’s almost awkward how quick his body responds to you.

“slow—fuck—slow down,” he gasps, hands slipping to your hips, trying to hold you still, but you only smirk, grinding down harder.

“sensitive already?” you tease, your breath hot against his ear, your fingers trailing down his chest, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“yeah,” he breathes, his voice shaky. “fuck—sensitive. really sensitive.”

you pause, frowning a little as you tilt your head to look at him. “why?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his hands still gripping your waist, trying to keep you from moving. he just looks at you, his eyes full of something that feels like shame, waiting for you to piece it together.

and then it hits you. oh.

“did you…?” you ask softly, your voice dropping a little as you lean in, your lips brushing against his jaw. “did you have to touch yourself after the dream?”

soonyoung swallows hard, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he nods, barely. “yeah,” he mutters, almost like he’s admitting some deep, dark secret. “i couldn’t… i couldn’t stop thinking about it. about you.”

for a second, you just stare at him, processing the confession. he was jerking off, thinking about you—and now here you are, straddling him, grinding against him. “shit,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him, your fingers tracing lightly over his chest. “you’ve been thinking about me like that?”

“how could i not? y/n-nie” he sulks, his hands trembling slightly as they slip under your shirt, his fingers brushing against the damp skin of your lower back.

you smirk, leaning down to kiss him again, this time slower, deeper, letting your tongue slip into his mouth as your hips rock slowly, teasing him. his hands tighten on your back, pulling you closer, but you can feel him trembling beneath you, his body so tense.

“you want me to stop?” you ask against his lips, voice low and teasing. “because i don’t think you do.”

he shakes his head, the movement jerky, his breath coming in quick gasps as you continue to grind against him. his fingers slip into your hair, damp from the shower, tugging gently as he lets out a soft, desperate sound.

“no—don’t stop.”

and that’s all you need.

you push yourself off him, just enough to slide your shorts down, tossing them aside before settling back down on his hips. the feeling of your bare skin against his sweats makes you shudder, and you see the way his eyes go wide, dark and blown out with need as you shift, grinding your bare pussy against the bulge in his pants.

soonyoung groans, his head tipping back against the pillow as his hands grip your thighs, trying to hold you steady. but you don’t give him a second to recover. you grind down hard, dragging your slick cunt over the fabric of his sweats, and he’s almost delirious from the sensation.

“fuck—fuck—y/n—”

you smirk, leaning down to kiss him again, your lips brushing against his as your hand trails down his chest, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “you’ve been thinking about this, hm?”

“yeah,” he gasps, his hips jerking up to meet yours as you slip your hand under his waistband, fingers brushing against his cock. “god, yeah.”

but you don’t give him what he wants. not yet. instead, you slide down his body, trailing kisses over his chest, his stomach, your fingers tracing the waistband of his sweats before tugging them down. you don’t even bother taking them off completely, just pulling them down enough to free his cock.

you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly as you lean down, your breath hot against his skin. he’s sensitive—too sensitive—and he’s almost squirming under your touch, but you keep going, taking your time, watching his face as you work him up even more.

“you’re so fucking hard,” you murmur, your lips brushing against the base of his cock, and he lets out a choked sound, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

you don’t stop. you slide your hand up and down his length, your thumb brushing over the tip, slick with precum, and then you lean down, your tongue darting out to lick along the underside of his cock.

you slide down his body again, this time lowering yourself between his legs, your mouth hovering just above his cock. you can see the way his whole body trembles, his hips jerking up slightly as you take him into your mouth. you don’t rush—no, you take your time, swirling your tongue around the tip before sliding your mouth down, taking him as deep as you can.

soonyoung lets out a broken sound, his hands flying to your hair, gripping tightly as you work him over, your mouth wet and slick as you suck him off. you can feel him trembling beneath you, his whole body tense, but you don’t let up. you take him deeper, your throat tightening around him as you swallow, your tongue flicking over the tip every time you pull back.

“fuck—y/n—please—”

he’s close, you can tell.

his fingers twist in your hair, tugging just enough to pull you off him, your lips slick and spit-slicked. his chest heaves, eyes glazed, but there's something different about the way he looks at you now.

“wait, wait” he breathes out. “please.”

and before you can even think to argue, he’s moving, flipping you onto your back with a suddenness that makes your head spin. his hands are already on your thighs, parting them with this desperate, greedy energy like he’s been dying to do this. you’re still catching your breath from everything before, but the second you feel his warm breath ghosting over your core, it’s like everything sharpens again.

he's focused, his eyes locked on your pussy like it’s the only thing in the world that matters right now. his hands grip your thighs, pushing them wider apart as he leans down, his tongue darting out to lick along your slit, the slickness from how worked up you are already makes his job easy, and he groans at the taste, the sound vibrating against your skin in a way that has your toes curling.

“fuck,” he mutters, before he dives in fully. his tongue presses flat against your pussy, lapping up every bit of wetness before it circles around your clit, teasing but never giving you enough. you feel your hips buck up, seeking more friction, but his hands hold you down, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“soonyoung,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, “fuck—don’t tease.”

he doesn’t say anything, but his mouth works faster now, tongue flicking over your clit before he sucks it into his mouth, just enough pressure to have your back arching off the bed. but it’s not just his mouth that’s driving you crazy—it’s the way his fingers slid to work at the same time, sliding up and down your inner thigh, teasing, but never quite touching where you need him most.

“shit,” you hiss, your hands finding their way into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. “more—fuck, soonyoung—more.”

he lifts his head just enough to look up at you, his lips shiny, slick with your wetness, and the sight alone nearly makes you cum. “more?” he echoes, but he’s already slipping one finger inside you, slow and deep, crooking it just right to hit that spot.

“fuck—yes—there—” your head angles back, your fingers curling tighter in his hair, and he takes that as his cue to add a second finger, pumping them in and out slowly while his mouth goes back to your clit, his tongue swirling around it.

and then he stops, thinking, before diving in again. instead of just keeping his mouth on your clit, he presses his tongue flat against it, then flicks his wrist, his fingers twisting inside you, almost like he’s trying to find a new angle, something that’ll drive you absolutely crazy. and it does. you’re not even sure how he’s managing to do it—his mouth, his fingers, everything working in perfect sync to build that pressure deep inside you—but it’s fucking working, and you feel like you’re losing your mind.

“holy shit,” you gasp, your hips grinding up into his mouth, chasing the friction. “holy fuck, soonyoung—what are you—”

he doesn’t stop. he doesn’t fucking stop, and you feel the tension in your belly building, higher and higher, until it’s almost crazy to hold it. his mouth is relentless, his fingers curling and twisting inside you, and you can’t even form words anymore—just a mess of moans and gasps as you get closer and closer to the edge.

your orgasm punches you, crashing over you so hard that your vision goes white for a second, your body tightening and shaking as you cum undone beneath him. you feel the way his fingers slow down, coaxing you through it, while his tongue keeps flicking over your clit, softer now, gentler, but still enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure.

you’re breathless, your body limp against the mattress, but soonyoung doesn’t stop. he stays between your thighs, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, but his mouth is still there, kissing and licking you clean, like he can’t get enough of your taste.

“fuck baby,” you breathe out, your chest heaving as you try to come down from the high.

he finally looks up at you, his lips swollen and shiny, and he doesn't even wipe it out. “taste even better than i imagined.”

you let out a shaky laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “yeah? you’ve been thinking about that a lot?”

“more than you know,” he murmurs, before he leans in again, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “but now i can do the rest in peace.”

you lock eyes with him, your lips brushing against his, “not before i ride that dick.”

the way soonyoung’s eyes widen, his breath catching in his throat, almost makes you laugh. he looks like he’s about to choke on his own spit, his face flushing red as he processes what you just said. “wh-what?”

“you heard me.” you slide your hand down his chest, feeling the way his muscles twitch under your touch, “been thinking about it for a while now. riding you. sitting on it. licking it. you want that?”

he swallows hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips—a habit of him, and you can tell his brain is short-circuiting. the way his hips shift beneath you, the way his fingers tighten their grip on your thighs, he’s already imagining it—has been imagining it.

fuck, probably for a while.

“you—y/n…” his voice is shaky, almost like he can’t believe you’re saying this out loud. “i—fuck, i thought about it—but like… i didn’t think you…”

you raise an eyebrow, leaning down so your lips are barely an inch away from his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “didn’t think i’d want it too? didn’t think i’d think about how i’d bounce on that dick? how i’d feel you filling me up, stretching me out? yeah, soonyoung, i’ve been thinking.”

he lets out this choked sound, his hand slipping from your thigh to wrap around your hip, like he’s trying to ground himself in reality. “fuck—you can’t just say shit like that…”

“why not?” you roll your hips down against his, feeling the hardness straining through his pants. “thought you liked me being honest?”

soonyoung’s eyes shut tight for a second, like he’s trying to get a grip, but you can feel the way his cock twitches under you, betraying him. and honestly, it just makes you want to push him further.

“been thinking about how it’d feel,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his jaw. “how your cock would slide inside me, how deep you’d get if i sat on it, how fucking good you’d feel—hmm”

you smile, leaning back to look at him, loving the way his pupils are blown wide with lust, the way his chest is rising and falling so fast it’s like he’s running out of breath. you reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants.

he lifts his hips without thinking, helping you pull his pants down enough to free his cock, the sight of it making your mouth water. he’s bigger than you imagined—hard and thick, the tip already leaking.

“holy shit,” you mutter, wrapping your hand around it, giving it a slow stroke that has him hissing through his teeth. “so this is what you’ve been hiding from me, huh?”

soonyoung can barely speak, just nodding like his brain is short-circuiting all over again.

you shift your hips, lining him up with your entrance, slick and warm from how fucking wet you are already. and then, slowly, you sink down on him, taking him inch by inch, watching as his face contorts/

“oh fuck,” he groans, his head falling back against the pillows. “fuck, fuck, fuck—so tight—so fucking good—”

you can feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you up completely, and it’s so good, delicious, you pause for a second, letting yourself adjust, your hands splayed out on his chest as you look down at him, smirking at how fucked he already looks.

“you good?” you ask, breathless, and he just nods frantically, his eyes wide and desperate as he looks up at you.

“yes, yes, yes!” he stammers, his voice cracking.

“well,” you grin, starting to rock your hips slowly, “just wait till i really start.”

he lets out a broken moan, his hands flying to your waist, but he doesn’t try to stop you—just lets you set the pace as you start riding him, just to tease him, before gradually speeding up, rolling your hips down against him in a way that has both of you gasping.

“so—hmm—so fucking perfect,” he mumbles, his fingers digging into your skin as he tries to hold on, but you can tell he’s losing it. his breathing’s all over the place, and his hips keep bucking up, trying to meet your movements, desperate for more.

nothing could’ve prepared him for this—not in his wildest, dirtiest, late-night fantasies. the way you suddenly prop yourself up on one knee, the other leg still pressed into the mattress, your whole body lifting up just slightly before you drop back down on him—it’s fucking insane.

the first time you do it, he swears he blacks out for a second. his entire world narrows down to the way you’re bouncing on his cock, the obscene wet sound of your slick every time you slam back down, and the way your tits are moving in rhythm with your body—fuck, it’s like he’s stuck in a trance.

“oh shit—shit,” he chokes out, his hands scrambling to grab onto your thighs, your waist—anything—but he can barely hold on. you’re riding him like you’ve been waiting for this moment, like you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing, and he’s just trying not to fucking implode.

the thing is—there’s no hesitation in you. no shyness, no slowing down to check if he’s handling it okay. you’re just going for it, like you knew this was going to ruin him, like you wanted to see his fucking end. your nails dig into his chest, using him as leverage as you move, your body fucking perfect, hips rolling and grinding.

“y/n you're gonna—” he can barely form a sentence, his breath coming out in ragged, desperate gasps. every time you drop down, your pussy squeezes around him, tight and hot and perfect, and it’s too fucking much. he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of something dangerous, like one more bounce and he’s done for.

“what's wrong, soonyoung?” you tease.

and fuck, he knows you're joking, knows you’re playing, but the way you say it just kills him. he lets out a strangled groan, his hips bucking up involuntarily, and you gasp as you feel the shift, your body jerking forward, hands gripping his shoulders for balance.

“ah!—” you bite your lip, eyes fluttering closed for a second, and the sound you make—that surprised moan—goes straight to his fucking brain.

soonyoung’s hands fly to your waist, his grip tightening, trying to hold you in place, trying to slow you down, because fuck, if you keep this up, he’s not gonna last—there’s no way. but it’s like you’re on a mission to break him. you grind down on him, hard and slow, then lift yourself back up only to slam back down again, your tits bouncing in a way that’s impossible for him to look away from.

“fuck," he grits out, head falling back against the pillows, his entire body going rigid as he tries to keep it together. “y/n—fuck—i can't hold it”

but you’re not listening. you’re in your own world now, riding him like it’s second nature, like this is what you’ve been waiting for all along. and fuck, he can feel how wet you are, can hear the slick sound of your pussy every time you drop back down on his cock.

“oh my god," he groans, his voice cracking as he feels you tightening around him, “you're—fuck, you're so—”

“so what?” you ask breathlessly, your lips curling into a wicked smile as you look down at him. your hands slip up to his chest, pushing him down against the mattress, your nails dragging along his skin, and he fucking shudders beneath you.

“so fucking perfect,” he finishes, his voice strained as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. he feels like he’s on fire, like every nerve in his body is screaming at him to hold on, but you’re making it fucking impossible. you’re going to fucking kill him.

you lift yourself up again, your back arching, and for a second, soonyoung thinks he might fucking pass out from how fucking good you look. your hair falls in front of your face, sticking to your skin from sweat, and your tits bounce with every movement, the low cut of your shirt leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

he watches, completely hypnotized, as you plant your feet on the mattress again, one knee still bent, the other leg propping you up—and then you jump on him again.

he chokes out, his head jerking up from the pillows as his body goes rigid beneath you. the way you’re moving now, bouncing on his cock, your ass slamming against his hips.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, the words barely coherent as his hips buck up into you involuntarily, chasing the heat, the tightness, the fucking heaven of your body.

but you don’t slow down. if anything, you speed up, your pace becoming almost frantic as you grind down on him, hard and fast, your nails digging into his chest as you chase your own orgasm. and fuck, he’s right there with you.

“shit, soonyoung—” you gasp, your voice cracking, “feels so fucking good—”

he umbles something incoherent making you laugh, breathless and ragged, and the sound sends a jolt straight to his cock. you whisper, leaning down to kiss him hard.

the moment you tell him to come for you, it’s like his whole body loses it. soonyoung’s grip on your hips falls, eyes roll back, head slamming against the pillow.

his whole body tenses up, the heat in his stomach bursting into flames, and the orgasm hits. he feels it rush through him, all the way down to his toes, the release so intense it almost hurts. his cock twitches deep inside you, and he’s spilling into you, his body convulsing, he can’t stop moving, his hips jerking up into you as he tries to ride out the high.

you feel him coming inside you, making your walls tighten around him, squeezing him as you throw your head back, gasping, your thighs shaking as you grind down on him.

he watches you, his eyes barely open, completely mesmerized by the sight of you cumming on top of him, your mouth open, your body trembling.

your hips move slower now, grinding down on him. you collapse on top of him, your body going limp against his chest, both of you drenched in sweat.

soonyoung let out a ragged breath, his arms wrapped around your body, his fingers tracing shy patterns on your skin. it felt like a gift after the best time of his life.

[nemesyaaa]

get in, loser || simp!classmate!rafe x mean!popular!reader

summary : admiration ? too light. obssession ? not enough. devotion ? perfect treatment.

warnings : +18 content. minors dni. smut. oral. sub!rafe (boy toy). act of devotion. public masturbation. p in v. verbal humiliation. lollipop. facesitting. mean girls. a lot of teasing. fingers sucking. a bit of cum eating. be aware of the warnings before reading. very pink content, i'm sorry.

author's note : i just wanted to write another thing about them...this is highly depraved.

you never had a boyfriend and you’ve never wanted one because you didn’t know how it would serve you. you already had everything, you didn't need a man by your side to be the center of attention. you were the perfect replica of the mean girls from the cult films of the 2000s. you could just as easily be a Regina George or a Jennifer Check. the world revolved around you, which meant that without you, everything fell apart.

and above all you didn't need a boyfriend because you had a boy toy now. rafe cameron. he was so obedient and docile, well he was especially so because you were a good mistress.

he didn't listen to you because he was afraid of you, but because he would do anything for you. he lived by your rules and your principles.

and today you wanted to have fun. it was the last day of school before the weekend and you were wearing one of his favorite t-shirts, a white tank that allowed him to see the size of your boobs and your perked nipples through the clothing. but above all, you didn't wear a bra so they swayed in slow motion with each of your steps. the way they were slowly bouncing simultaneously pressed together in the fabric while you walked towards him, phone in hand.

you wore a plump gloss which gave volume to your lips, but above all which made your mouth so luscious and shiny.

when you sat next to him, he shifted slightly but mostly stared at you because it wasn't usual. you were always near your girlfriends, you always took care to ignore him in class and even in public. you loved playing with his feelings. as a bitch, you were good at this.

you loved laughing with your girlfriends watching him while knowing he would feel miserable and pathetic because he would never know if it was him you were talking about. you loved getting him hard before going to class just to see him squirm in his chair, and be unable to form two sentences in front of the teacher without stammering. but above all, you loved being cruel, pretending through messages that you were going to touch him, suck him, drive him crazy to finally change your mind in front of him. “oh really? when did i say that? you know, i'm very confused. "

"o-on...by message..."

"are you saying i'm a liar, cameron?" you approached him threateningly, your eyebrows furrowed and your pout upset, forcing him to step back because your heels kicked on the ground was quietly intimidating. “oh you're gonna cry, stupid ? "

he softened himself, thinking that you will be kind to him. his shoulders slumped and he swallowed hard. you slid your mouth next to his ear. “you should, loser. ”

his eyes were in tears as you were playing your favorite game — bully him. sometimes you could be such a whore. but you were also terribly hot and he hated as much as he loved the effect you had on him.

you bust out laughing, before running a hand through his hair to gently pat his head. “I was kidding. don't be mad at me...or let me do something for you..." you pushed his hand into your panties. “do your job. and you better do it well. ”

he shaked his head vividly, as you could feel his fingers making their way to your pussy. he loved being inside you so much, even if it was just his hand. but sometimes you managed to make him so sick because you purposely didn't whine just to make him frustrated. you watched him exhaust himself with a puppy glaze, his completely soaked fingers thrusting in and out, fucking you deep, pooling your own wetness out of your cunt while fingering you. “h-he…lp…” he pleaded, his own saliva running down his chin.

and you stood there with your lips sealed while he moaned against the side of your face because it felt so good. but it was also hard for you to contain all the spasms and pleasure that was coursing through your body. you were forced to control yourself, to not show anything while his fingertips moved back and forth inside your walls, slamming down your canal. his cock was so hard in his pants. it was terribly painful at this point. and you didn't care. all that frustration you inflicted on him, he took it out on the sex doll in his room. all the cum you didn't let him implode was going to be released in this girl's pussy.

today, you sat next to him, placing your bag noisily on his table.

“I thought you didn’t want us to be seen together. " he commented.

" oh don't worry. I told my friends I was doing charity today. " you replied.

class had started and you had a lollipop in your mouth for a few minutes. and you knew very well that Rafe was unable to concentrate on what the teacher was saying when you were sucking that shit so close to him, with your sticky tongue latched on over the candy. you were making discreet but obscene noises. it was a classic cherry lollipop.

his cheeks had heated. you twisted your tongue around the candy, playing with it a little.

your muscle curled around the lollipop like you did so well around his cock, a few dripping licks had been liberally placed while you pretended to concentrate on the lesson.

“get your dick out.“ you ordered. “i want to have fun.”

you didn't need to say it twice before his cock was released, springing free against his thighs. you don't know why you were always so amazed at his size. However, you had already seen it several times. but damn, that was the only thing he could dethrone you on. his heavy cock hung in the air, precum beading at the red tip.

he wore the cock ring that you ordered him to wear. “you're gonna be even bigger, loser. “you encouraged him.

you pushed the lollipop out of your lips to bring it to the glistening tip of his dick. you used the side of the candy to feel the precum wetting the sugar with amusement. you let the substance soak into the candy before letting it run down his erect shaft. you aimed the sweet treat at his penis, tracing the hard veins that ran along his member, while teasing him softly with the edible part of the stick.

you stroked his cock with the lollipop, teasing his entire length. you drove the candy over his hardened cock, watching the blood pressure enlarge his thick veins. the lollipop was so small next to it. when the candy had been completely wet and dripping, between a mixture of cum, sugar and saliva, you had slipped it between Rafe's lips. you pushed it against his tongue, forcing him to gasp over it, before applying pressure to his cheeks with your fingers to watch him swallow.

but you weren't finished, you wanted more. you spat discreetly into your hand before wetting his entire cock. you wanted to please him a little so you gave him this handjob he dreamed of in class. you fisted him up and down, feeling him grow in your grip, while you worked all dick. his balls were hard and heavy, perfectly caged between his legs.

he was trying so badly to hide his urge to moan, his lips were twisted and tense, his teeth buried inside his bottom one. he squirmed in his chair, his tummy twitching hard from the pleasure. you were so good with your hand. while you stroked him, you loved to tighten your fingers around him. it was at this moment that his gasps were more intense and that you started to pump him faster. the speed of your movements let him so weak, as cries rolling down his cheeks.

he was so pretty when he was about to explode. “ is your dick hard for me, or because you're enjoying being a pussy ? ” you murmured right in his ear.

strangely, you let him take your virginity on the same day. after you invited him to your house. and then there was no one at home, no evidence, no traces. no one would know.

“get on the bed. ” you commanded. “ you've got such a pretty face, will you let me sit on it ? i know you will because you will do anything to please me. ”

he obeyed in a second and you undressed. you had taken off all of your clothes before sitting on his face. you had always dreamed of doing this and this was the perfect opportunity.

“now, it's your choice. you can be a good boy that makes me cum with his tongue...or just a good dog that only knows how to lick. show me how you want to be treated. ”

" y-yes...yes..i just want to make you feel good." he just pleaded, before being silenced by the contact of your pussy on his lips.

you were heavy. but in such a good way, he was so turned on by the way you were sitting on him, pressuring the weight of your body on his mouth, making yourself a seat on his face while he was already lapping at your soaked folds, tearing your lips apart with his tongue and starting to licks at your parts. your taste was so sweet, filled with the froth of his saliva. you began to rub yourself, pushing your cunt deeper inside his mouth to muffle his pathetic wimps. his voice was so needy.

as you were fucking his whole face, your asscheeks was brushing his nose, making him even more horny. his dick was thick, literally twitching over his flat tummy. the hard lines of his muscles were swollen.

you couldn't help but moan, but you wouldn't dare saying his name. he was lapping with such devotion, feeding your greedy cunt with needy and fat laps. his tongue was inside you, ruining your walls with appetite. he was drooling at the corner of his mouth, and on the underside of your butt.

it was as if his tongue only belonged inside you. you tried to stay in control even though you couldn't deny the pleasure that consumed you. “It feels so good..." you had escaped, holding your breasts in the palm of your hands.

you gripped the sheets when he started to get wilder in the thrusts of his tongue. your body moved in sync. as he was below you, you took the opportunity to move your ass above him, lightly slapping his face with the jiggles of your cheeks. oh god, he was so pathetic, completely hard being crushed under your weight, having his face below your soaked pussy, being covered in your wetness and drool, having his cock painfully hard and leaking, because his mouth was fucked. you could feel his heavy breath coating the heat of your core.

he had cum all over his own stomach, and you rolled your eyes. it wasn't the first time he came without warning, it was so compulsive for him. he couldn't control it.

you lay down next to him before collecting the cum on his tummy, teasing the sticky white steam with your fingers before plunging them inside your pussy. you filled yourself with his releasing, your two eyes on him, white loads leaking at your entrance. “ are you gonna Fuck me or do I need to make all the job by myself ? ”

“ i-i…”

“ such a pathetic boy, can't even speak properly with his mouth. ”

you spread your legs, and he came closer. he was so needy that he was nervous. his hands were shaking, barely able to hold his throbbing cock. you had to wait a few minutes before he slipped inside you. he whimpered all his way to your walls at the comfort of your pussy around him.

because he couldn't wait any longer, he conducted several forceful thrusts into the deep of your core. he could see his own cum floating with your wetness at the outline of your swollen cunt. his cries was loud as he pounded into you deeper, making sure he strikes your spot everytime. he was sweating, a drop of sweats watering from his torso. your legs was locked againt his arms as he was fucking you like he ever dreamed of.

his breathing was running shorter and shorter as the heat was stronger. he sunk every inch of his dick in your hole.

he never fucked a girl and he didn't know if he was doing good but his head was empty. all his neurons were dead and it was all about sex and pleasure. and you were nothing better, all dumb by his fat cock, his merciless length feeding your insides. his face was hidden in your neck, his lips salivating on your flesh. " i-i-m...cu..a-aah..plea.se…"

it wasn't already more than ten minutes but he couldn't help. he could cum literally every five minutes inside you, because of his urges, because of the way you make him feel. you were stuffed hard, all his shaft buried in your canal. every hard back and forth left his dick all red and sticky while he was leaving beads of cum on your slit. “ that's a good boy. ” you praised, biting your lower lips. “ but now, are you gonna make me cum ? ”

you wrapped a hand around his throat while he was on top of you. you let him fuck you and abuse your cervix. when he felt your fingers around his neck, it completely turned him on. and all his thrusts had become even more intense as he was increasing the pace. your stomach was spiraling, and his eyes were glued to that.

“h-harder..please..." he was begging at you from more pressure.

"such a freak..." you replied, before wrapping his neck tighter.

your grip was now tight around his throat, his eyes rolled back as he was still fucking you raw, all your pussy milking him. you were draining him. the blue of his gaze was perfect, shiny in the light of the room because of tears. he exploded again and again until his dick start to play difficult to fuck you another round.

he was so handsome.

it wasn't your habit but you kept him in your arms. you felt the need to be nice to him after all his efforts. he was still sweltering and sweating, his body decorated with cute red marks, and you couldn't help but smile.

“hey, you did so good for me. i'm proud, very proud. ” you gently said.

your compliments had given him chills. and his tears had again welled up in his eyes.

“please, cameron.stop being a crybaby. ” you sighed with an annoying tone. “god instead of cries, i should hear how grateful you are to let you fuck me. ”

“thanks...y-you...”

“if your friends saw you like that..." you scoffed. "and if they saw you like that..." you whispered against his ear. "I can already hear the gossip...oh and your father, what would he think of you?"

you felt him shiver under your touch. “that's why you need to be kind with me, rafe. but you're a good boy, aren't you? say it, say it to me. "

“I'm...your good boy. ” he cried out with a gasp, shaking tears on his cheeks.

“ look at yourself, not only are you a good boy, rafe cameron but you're also such a pathetic thing. this is why i need to make you mine. all mine.”

you stood up to take a red marker and marked on his back with permanent ink. “ y/n’s private property. "

“now, i wish you luck in hiding that you belong to me. “

he grimaced. “ do you understand what it means ? you have my name on your fucking back. and you will have such a hard time removing it. you wanted to be obsessed with me ? fine, because now i leave you no choice than being devoted to me. you wake up, it's me. every time you jerk off, it's me. everything you think, it's me. everytime you breathe, it's me. i want everyone on that fucking island to know which pussy make you so dumb and pathetic. is it clear ? ” your hands were gripping around his throat as you spoke.

he nodded his head like a good sub.

“ words. ”

“ yes…i just…i just want you. ” he sobbed, your hands around his neck making it difficult for him to answer properly.

“ so what are you thinking right now ?”

“ you. ” he replied with such a pretty feverish tone.

“ good answer, little boy. ” you praised, while giving him a little pat on the cheeks. “ now, who do you like ? ”

“ you. it's you. ” he repeated.

“ do you want me ? ”

“ i want you. ” he confessed, moving into the space of your spreaded legs. his head was now on your lap, while you stroked his hair gently. “ i need you…” he continued.

“ of course, you need me. i'm the only one to care about you. ” when you rubbed his bottom lip, feeling the sweet wetness of his drool against your thumb, he let out a soft moan before opening his mouth, allowing you to brush fingers in his tongue.

his gaze was precious, a bit teary as his whole mouth was starting to suck your fingertips. his lips were moving faster around your fingers, taking them to the back of his warm tongue. you loved to watch your digits disappear on the side of his muscle, the sucking sounds filling the room as you could feel him grow again in his pants. he was whining at the feeling of pleasure, keeping your fingers in his mouth.

“ mmh…stay like that. i want to take some pictures…” you said in your casual mean girl tone. “ you know, baby…for sleepovers with my girlfriends , we really need something to make fun of and nothing makes us laugh more than pathetic men. ”

your gaze went down his thighs. “ oh god, i'm gonna take such beautiful pictures…please, continue to make your dick leak. soak yourself, show them how pretty you are. i want them to be jealous of what we have. ”

[shizumi123yuki]

“Tiktok Trend”

Simon “Ghost” Riley as your anonymous husband on social media.

Summary: You as a popular influencer shares the snippets of your life with your “mysterious” husband, Simon Riley, on TikTok.

—————

It started as a harmless hobby. Your TikToks, cute little glimpses of your life, had quickly turned into a whole vibe. Over 500K followers. You were in your element, and your fans loved the behind-the-scenes look at your life with Simon. Of course, Simon didn't know everything you posted. Some moments were just for you—and a bit for your followers, who were obsessed with your mysterious husband.

Simon wasn't the easiest person to get on camera, and you respected that. He worked in a world where anonymity was crucial. He'd warned you multiple times: "Don't post my face, love. You never know who's watching." You'd always agreed, filming around his face, never quite catching the glimpses you so desperately wanted to share. But his back muscles... his strong hands... his easy grace as he moved around the kitchen. Those were the things you had to share.

One of your most popular TikToks was of him cooking dinner, his back flexing with each motion, his strong shoulders shifting as he chopped vegetables. You weren't subtle, your focus clearly on the way the muscles of his back moved under his t-shirt.

"Look at him," you whispered to the camera, "I think i have a crush on my husband." You knew your followers were dying to know more about him, and you kept teasing them with bits and pieces—never too much, always keeping Simon's identity a mystery.

You knew he hated trends. But the “A boy who’s jacked and kind” trend had been all over your feed. It was cheesy, sure, but Simon had that perfect mix of strength and gentleness. His muscles were made for it, and his soft smile, the one he reserved for you, was nothing short of divine.

"Come on, Simon," you begged, sitting on the kitchen counter as he cooked. "Just once. Do it for me? Please?" You pouted, trying to force him.

He was stirring a pot, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over his shoulder at you. "What’s that supposed to be?" He raised an eyebrow.

"It’s a trend. You pick me up and I sit on your shoulder." You grinned, pushing your luck. "It’ll be cute, and your fans will love it."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You’re kidding, right? That’s cringe."

You tried to play it off, but inside you felt a little twinge of disappointment. “It’s not that bad,” you teased, but you could see he wasn’t having it.

He shook his head, muttering something about how ridiculous it all was. “You know what? Never mind.” You hopped off the counter, sulking, your mood deflating like a balloon.

——————

For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment. It wasn’t just about the trend. It was that Simon, your husband, the man who shared so much of his life with you—his quiet moments, his fierce protectiveness—was so closed off about this one thing. It was the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t understand why these little things mattered to you.

You wanted to show him off. Not in a superficial way, but because to you, he was perfect. The way he moved, the way his presence filled the room, the way he cared for you—it all felt special. You wanted to share it with the world, yes, but more than that, you wanted him to let you. You wanted him to feel comfortable enough with you, with the relationship, to just let go of his guard for a second. But when he shot down your request, it felt like another wall had gone up.

When you climbed into bed that night, you pulled the covers up to your chin, staring at the ceiling. You felt a pang in your chest that had nothing to do with the trend and everything to do with how distant he seemed, even though he was right there next to you. You could feel his warmth beside you, but the space between you felt too wide, too heavy.

Simon didn’t push you. He let you stew in silence for a while. You thought maybe he'd let it go—maybe it wasn’t that big a deal. But as you were drifting off, you felt the familiar pressure of his body against yours, his chest gently nudging your back.

His breath was warm on your neck as he whispered, "You mad at me?"

"Not mad," you mumbled, trying to sound unaffected. "Just... tired."

He didn’t buy it. "You are mad, love."

You tried to ignore the tightness in your throat, swallowing it down. "I’m not sulking."

But he knew better. He always did.

His hand reached for you, pulling you closer, his voice a little softer now. "Come on. Im sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you."

The way he said it made your heart ache. You could hear the frustration in his voice—the way he always wanted to fix things, to make things better. But in that moment, you didn’t need fixing. You needed him to see you, to understand why it stung so much when he brushed off something you’d thought would be fun, something you’d hoped would bring you closer.

"I know im being childish but..i just feel like..you don’t want to do things with me, i just want us to feel closer." you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Simon paused, his hand going still on your waist. You felt his weight shift as he processed your words, and for a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, he sighed, a low sound of frustration mixed with something else—regret?

"Alright, that’s it." His voice was firm, but there was tenderness to it too. Without another word, he pulled you up by your waist, gently but firmly, and before you could even react, you were standing in front of him.

"Hey!" you yelped, your feet barely touching the floor as he took your phone off the nightstand.

"Shh," he said, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Im gonna do this one for you. And I’m not asking you for anything in return." His voice softened, but there was determination behind it. "You’re not gonna give me that attitude anymore, yeah?”

You blinked up at him, confused and surprised as he turned the camera app on, angling it just right. He didn’t give you time to argue as he stood behind you, his big hands slipping to your waist and effortlessly lifting you into the air.

“Simon!” you squealed, your surprise morphing into laughter. But he didn’t even grunt, didn’t show any sign of exertion as he carried you, your legs hooked over his shoulder, his hands firm on your thighs. His arms were like iron, holding you in place without any strain.

“There,” he grumbled, his voice low and steady as he looked into the camera. “Happy now?”

The sight of him, so effortlessly strong, holding you in such an intimate yet playful way, made your heart flutter. But it wasn’t just the physical act—it was the fact that he was doing this for you, even when he thought it was cheesy. He was giving you that small piece of him that you’d wanted all along: his trust, his willingness to indulge you, even when it wasn’t his thing.

You couldn’t help but smile, a genuine smile this time, one that you hadn’t felt all day.

"You look cute when you’re being a softie," you teased, unable to hide the affection in your voice.

Simon didn’t respond with words—he just smiled to himself, a rare, soft smile that made your heart melt. “Yeah, yeah. But only for you.”

(URGHH THIS MADE ME SMILE WHILE WRITING THIS🥹‼️)

[unoislazy]

Promises

Vi x Reader (Part One)

(Childhood friends to lovers)

You and Vi had been friends for as long as you could remember, which is why it took you by surprise she would make such a irrational decision without telling you.

A/N:Just a little something something. A prologue, if you will.

For as long as you can remember you’ve been part of the undercity. Such a fate never really bothered you. Your family life was broken and your chance of survival was quite low, but you miraculously had made some friends who looked out for you, and you did the same for them.

And among that group of friends was a girl whom you grew to care about to a deeper extent than you could ever even begin to fathom.

When she wasn’t out stealing or picking fights with people, she was with you, hanging out and having fun. Forgetting what horrors life in the caverns below the glistening city of progress held.

That girl, of course, was Vi.

You walked through the darkened streets of the city, your feet carelessly walking through puddles of water that was contaminated with liquids you’d rather not waste your thoughts on finding out. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone looking to pick a fight, and keeping yourself as compact as possible incase you needed to book it. Such is the way of the fissures.

Your tensed state lasted only until you reached your usual hang out spot, The Last Drop. It was owned by Vander, a man with a big heart and even bigger gauntlets. He looked out for any kid that crossed his path, despite how weak it made him seem to some of the others around him, who grew restless with his complaisance in the grand structure of things.

That, however, did not concern you. All you cared for was seeing your best friend.

Just before you could fling the door open and make your usual obnoxious entrance, the door opened with a swift tug and almost caused you to stumble forward.

You looked up slightly and made eye contact with none other than Vi.

But something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open a little wider than they normally rested, her pupils focusing on your quickly as she moved back a bit in the door way. Clearly she wasn’t expecting you.

“Vi, What’s up?” You asked, a smile on your face to mask your concerns but anyone with a brain could see past it without much effort. Your eyebrows creased as you realized she was no longer looking at you. The pink haired girl let out a quick sigh before grabbing your hand and moving past you.

“Come on.” She said in a quieter tone than normal. You of course followed suit with little to no arguments, your main concern was just figuring out what was wrong. It wasn’t long before she stopped, taking you both into an alley way only a few feet from the bar as she let go of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice the absence of warmth as she did, but you shook the thought from you head nonetheless as you looked back toward her.

“Vi?” You called out quietly, moving your face a bit more towards your line of sight, almost as if you were forcing her to look at you. This only resulted in another sigh before she took a pause. She wanted to say something.

She was dying to say something.

“Vi, whatever it is, would you just spill it. You’re killing me here.” You remarked sarcastically, trying to lighten the very clearly damper mood as you continued to stare at her.

She then, finally, turned back towards you. She moved her bandages hands gently on to both of your shoulders as she stared at you.

“You remember that job that went to shit topside right?” She asked, now looking you dead in the eyes. Her blue eyes seemed to care the weight of a lot of stress, a lot of which you knew she was keeping on herself as to not burden anyone else with it. How you wished she would listen to you when you said she could tel you anything.

You finally nodded in response to her question.

“Of course I remember, who doesn’t?” You replied in an obvious manner.

“Well, the enforcers want someone to take the blame for that crime.” She continued, her hands still gently grasping both your shoulders as if to keep you from running away. You were firmly planted regardless of whether she let go or not, what could possibly turn you away from her?

“Okay…? But it’s not like you had anything to do with it so why does that matter?”

It was then you watched as Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line. The crease in her brow faded as she looked at you with a softened gaze. Only then did it click for you.

“Wait so you… you’re going to let them take you?”

“It’s the only way to fix what’s happening.” She replied quickly as if she was prepared for your protests. However, it only further progressed your confusion.

“Fix what? What’s happening?” You asked.

Then it dawned on you, she was keeping things from you once again for the sake of “protecting” you. You absolutely despised when she kept you out of the loop with things she knew you’d want a hand in if you had known about.

“I can’t explain just-“ She tried to respond, but you cut her off.

“What do you mean you can’t explain? Just tell me.” You practically pleaded.

“Look it’s just… it’s a long story but I-“ She once again tried to excuse, only for you to cut her off.

“No, Vi. Why won’t you ever tell me anything until you’ve already made a decision! Did one else get a say in this? How are you so sure this fix anything?” You exclaimed. You could feel her grip on your shoulders ever so slightly tighten as our words became more laced with desperate anger.

“It will. It has to.” She responded simply, to which you retorted,

“And what if it doesn’t? Hm? What if it doesn’t fix anything, Vi. You know an enforcers word doesn’t count for shit how can you-“

“I have to try.” She once again responded simply.

“Vi please would you just-“ By now your anger has dwindled and you were just simply desperate to try and talk her out of this.

“I have to do this!” She shouted. You noticed she was no longer looking at you, but now at the floor.

“Why?” You exclaimed.

“Because it’s the only way to protect the people I care about from my own mistakes! I did this. This is my fault, I thought we were ready, I thought we could handle it but… but I was wrong. And now I’ve put them all in danger and I- I have to make up for this.”

You went quiet. Classic Vi. Taking the blame all to herself when there’s more than enough to go around. One could almost call her selfish.

“And what about me? Were you planning on telling me about this before you decided to throw yourself to the wolves?” You responded quietly.

“I figured it would be best if you didn’t know what happened.” She said, he words just barely above a whisper as her view slowly worked its way back up to your eyes.

“What so I could instead just, I don’t know, think you died?”

“I don’t know I just-“

“Maybe it’s better if I found out you gave yourself over and I had no idea.”

“Just-“

“Or Maybe, I would’ve been really dense about it and would’ve just thought you were really good at avoiding me. Maybe that’s the better outcome.”

“Stop!” She shouted, her hand had swiftly moved from your shoulders and planted firmly on either side of your face. She gently held you in place, keeping you looking at her.

“Just… stop. Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through very well but I just wanted to protect you… okay? In the only way I knew how.”

“You don’t have to protect everyone, Vi.”

She didn’t respond.

Classic Vi.

You sighed, knowing that she was dead set on her decision and nothing was going to change that. Not even you.

“Look. If you’re… really set on doing this you have to promise me one thing, okay?”

She looked back, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“When you come back, and you will come back, you’ll start opening up more. Okay?”

This earned a slight chuckle from the pink haired girl as she looked towards you.

“And… promise you’ll come back.” You added on. The playful look in your eye faded as you realized there was no promising such a thing. You both knew fairly well that this was likely going to be the last time you’d ever see each other again. Both such is the way of a child, you held out on a naive string of hope.

Vi nodded carefully, as if deep in thought. Her eyes jumped from feature to feature on your face, committing it to memory as she the suddenly engulfed you in a hug.

“I promise.”

That was the last time you saw her. You don’t even know how many years it’s been since the incident. Once word spread that Vander and the others had died, you and everyone else assumed that meant Vi died along side them. You held out hope that maybe one day, she’d miraculously reappear, but as the years dragged on your focus strayed from your old friend and more onto your own survival.

The Undercity is an eat or be eaten kind of place.

What good would you fair Vi if you got eaten?

[babyleostuff]

jealousy, jealousy | choi seungcheol

fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!cheol x gn!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.1k

. . . seungcheol getting jealous of a fictional character

“cheol, it’s just a fictional character,” you sighed, trying to explain for the tenth time since you got out of the movie theatre that, yes - the main lead was hot, but no - you wouldn’t ever leave seungcheol for him.

sometimes you wondered if he was turning thirty or ten next year. 

you didn’t mean to be all heart eyes at the movies, but it wasn’t your fault the main lead was good looking, not that it even mattered - seungcheol had his celebrity crushes too, but you didn’t go around and whine about it. “you know it doesn’t mean anything, baby,” reaching over, you ran your fingers through his hair, like you always did whenever he was stressed or anxious, turning him into a puddle in your arms in a second.

“mhm,” your boyfriend mumbled, and gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter, not sparing you a single glance. you sighed and dropped your hand. 

any other time you’d find this situation quite amusing - cheol jealous of a fictional character you happened to gush over, if not for the fact that you knew exactly how this would end.

with a silent treatment and an extremely pouty boyfriend.

normally you found that side of him very endearing, but dealing with a jealous coups was not an easy task, partially because your boyfriend happened to be one of the most stubborn people in the world.

now it was him and his pout against the world.  

“you know i love you,” you said, and turned your body away from him towards the window. 

if he was going to act like a child, then so be it.

“i’m a fucking idiot” seungcheol grumbled to himself, pulling his shirt over his head with a bit too much force, hitting himself in the head in the process. “fuck.” 

he couldn’t get the image of your soft gaze and gentle voice out of his head, when you tried to cheer him up in the car after he acted like a complete asshole. he was the last person that deserved your sweet affection, and he was so mad at himself for acting like a fucking toddler instead of pulling the car over and throwing himself into your arms to beg for forgiveness. 

“are you okay?” suddenly your voice pulled him out of his thoughts. you peeked through the door, and rubbed your eyes, already wearing his t-shirt that you always wore to sleep. the genuine concern in your eyes, and your adorably sleepy expression made seungcheol want to bang his head against the wall. 

how could he be so stupid, and get jealous and angry at you for finding a fictional character attractive? 

"uh, i'm fine, i just hit my head," he said quietly, not really looking at you. usually you’d immediately coo at him, and kiss the spot where he hit himself - of course you knew how much seungcheol loved your attention when he injured himself, even if it was just a scratch, but now he could only watch as you nodded and left without a word. 

he sighed, picking up his toothbrush to finish up his bedtime routine. there was no way he’d sleep in your bed tonight, seungcheol wouldn’t be able to lay next to you knowing how much he hurt you.

besides, there was so way you’d allow him to cuddle you after how he acted, and that was something he would not be able to stand. 

looking at his reflection in the mirror for the last time, seungcheol turned all of the lights in the bathroom, and padded over to your shared bedroom to take his pillow, and a blanket from the closet. 

he’d take the couch, it’d be less painful than sleeping in the same bed without being able to hug you. 

“what are you doing?” you suddenly asked, your voice laced with sleep. you pushed yourself up to take a better look at your boyfriend, who was standing at his side of the bed with what looked like his pillow and a blanket, his expression reminiscing one of a kicked puppy. “you have to be kidding me, choi seungcheol.” 

you looked so disappointed, and… annoyed? that was his last straw, and fuck every part of his dignity he had left - he’d beg on his knees for you forgiveness if that’s what it took. 

“ ‘m sorry, okay?” he said, his voice breaking. you could bet that if you turned the lights you’d see your boyfriend all teary eyed, not that it would surprise you - seungcheol was usually quite emotional when it came to you and your fights.

“i know there was no reason for me to get jealous and act like the biggest asshole about it, you didn’t deserve any of it,” he gripped the pillow tighter as if it would help. “and then i got so embarrassed of myself, i didn’t have the guts to tell you how sorry i was. please forgive me baby, i’m so sorry.” 

“oh, cheol,” you sighed and opened your arms. without a second thought, the boy threw the pillow aside and ran into your embrace, his strong arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he was afraid that you were about to run away.

“i'm not mad at you,” you pressed your cheek against the side of his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. “okay, maybe i was at first, but that's only because you seriously act like a child sometimes.” seungcheol groaned, as if he didn’t know that already. 

you sat like that for a moment - your arms wrapped around his strong shoulders, with his head buried in your neck where he placed gentle kisses, just like the fight never happened. 

"did you seriously want to go to sleep on the couch?" you asked, kissing his forehead.

cheol leaned back, revealing the pouty lips, and his big doe eyes you knew so well. you could swear some day he’d be the death of you. "yeah, i wanted to. that was the plan," he admitted shyly, his thumbs running over your exposed hip.  

"you're so dramatic, cheollie," you sighed and shook your head, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "why didn't you want to sleep with me, though?" 

your boyfriend groaned again, hiding in your neck like it was his safe space, pushing you back onto the bed with the force that he tackled you in. "i wouldn't be able to cuddle you," he murmured after a short while, like he was scared to admit it.  

"again, i didn't hear you." the truth was you heard him perfectly fine, but what was better than making your usually confident boyfriend shy and blushy. 

"i wouldn’t be able to cuddle you!" he huffed, looking at you again. "happy?" 

"very much, darling," you smiled at him. “now stop being a drama queen, and come to bed.” 

seungcheol nodded like a child that was just promised an ice cream, and scrambled out of your embrace, quickly grabbing his pillow from the ground. you smiled to yourself, watching your big teddy bear of a boyfriend crawl back into bed. 

“no more fighting, okay?” you murmured, your cheek pressed against his chest. “we just wasted a perfectly fine afternoon on your whining, you big baby.” 

seungcheol knew you didn’t mean to make him feel bad about what happened, he was sure you were probably used to his antics by now, but it didn’t change the fact that if it was up to him he’d spend the night worshipping you in every way he could just to show you how much he loved you. 

“i’m really sorry.” 

“it’s okay baby. let’s just sleep, yeah?” you said, and snuck your hand under his t-shirt, dragging you nails over his tummy. “and you know i’m yours, right? and that won’t change. ever.”

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[luveline]

maybe hotch and reader are expecting a little bambino and nobody else knows until someone points out reader's belly? (i feel like it'd be absolutely hilarious if it was spencer that pointed it out 💀💀)

thank u for ur request! fem!pregnant!reader

"Can I ask you something?" Spencer asks.

You smile at him gently. "Always, Spence." 

He seems cagey despite your assurance, lowering his voice and stepping closer to you. "Do you think maybe you need more fibre in your diet?"

You've been friends, best friends, with Spencer for so long you genuinely can't remember a time in your life where you didn't love him, but you have no idea what to say to that. It's the weirdest thing he's ever said unprompted. That's saying something. 

"Is there… a reason that you're asking me?" 

"There's three," he says. He waits for you to nod before laying them out. "For a few weeks now you've been more tired than usual. You're hungry all the time, and your stomach is bloated. I know that can feel painful, you could eat a handful of chia seeds in the morning and it would help." 

You feel like someone's dropped an ice cube down the back of your t-shirt. Disarmed, you turn to Hotch where he's standing at the whiteboard, your hand moving automatically to your stomach. He gives you a similarly perturbed look. Derek's head shoots up at the list of symptoms, and Emily covers her mouth at your protective hand where it's poised. Fucking profilers.

"I've actually been taking vitamins," you say, wondering if you can still save it.  

Emily is the first to break. "Wait, are you–?" She doesn't let herself finish. 

Spencer shakes his head, brown curls bouncing at the base of his neck. "What?" he asks, his lips twisting into a trademark pout. 

"Spence," you murmur, taking his wrists into your hands. "I want you to know that I was going to tell you first. This weekend, genuinely. I didn't think you'd notice so soon, is all."  

He looks at Hotch, then you, then Hotch again. You press your lips together. "Please don't be upset," you say. 

It clicks. There and then, you witness the cogs turning. "You're pregnant?" he asks breathlessly. 

"On purpose," you joke. 

Spencer tackles you. His arms fly around your waist, a tight, brotherly squeeze of a hug that makes you feel like you're gonna burst. "You're kidding!" 

You're barraged by hugs. Emily, Derek, JJ. Rossi shakes Hotch's hand and pats his back in congratulations, which is so old-man style you find yourself laughing under JJ's arm. "How do you know it's his?" you ask Rossi. 

Hotch laughs as Derek moves in for a similar bro-hug, nothing but love in his eyes as he smiles at you from over Derek's shoulder. You smile back, amazed and ecstatic at their happy reactions, until Spencer forces JJ aside with more gusto than he likely should to hug you again. You're blinded by his wild hair. 

"I don't think you can fix this with a cup of chia seeds," Derek says. 

"We couldn't be happier," Hotch assures him. 

"On purpose, huh? When were you going to tell us?" Emily asks, her face a picture of surprise, a hint of disappointment in her thin brows. "I had no idea you wanted another one!" 

"Jack wants a brother," Hotch says. "You know she can't say no to him. And he's perfect–" 

"But there's nothing wrong with wanting more," Rossi finishes, his eyes gleaming. 

"I thought it might be a little awkward to emphasise that we were trying," you say, patting Spencer's shoulders. 

Emily winces. "Gotcha." 

"Let's see the bump, mama," Derek says. 

You step back from Spencer's side to turn, holding your shirt flat to the underside of your baby bump. It got bigger quicker than you thought it would, and now that it's been pointed out, it's obvious. 

Derek shakes his head in disbelief. "That's–" 

"Amazing," Hotch says. You beam at him. 

There's a second round of hugs. Delight thrums in the air like a charge, laughter buoyant. Hotch parts the sea of excitement to kiss your cheek and hug your shoulder proudly, turning his head away from everyone. You know what he's thinking —this is going to be a really special time for you both. Your team will make sure of it.

"Um?" Penelope asks, elbowing open the door with a weighty laptop in her hands. "Did I miss something?" 

Penelope, predictably, screams down the house at the presenting of your bump. Then she cries, and for a while you're all unashamedly teary-eyed. 

[manjjiros]

TRICKED YOU!

ran haitani / rindou haitani / sanzu haruchiyo x gn!reader (separate)

cws: suggestive but fluffy, like actually kind of tooth rotting, little white lies, established relationship (ran), situationships (rindou, sanzu), discussions of drug usage (sanzu), bonten timeline, ask to tag

from the ASM: tricking the trio into getting some rest isn’t exactly easy. but the probability of getting it to work is not exactly zero, either.

over the loudspeaker: @sin-and-punishment

— RAN HAITANI.

“raaaan,” you whined into the receiver, rolling over in your sheets and letting them rustle against your phone.

you heard your poor boyfriend let out a breath on the other end of the line. “what’s the matter, angel? i’m a little tied up at the moment.”

you knew he was, obviously, or you wouldn’t be calling. you knew his schedule inside and out by now, when he had meetings, when he ran off on sudden jobs to handle important business you had no interest in knowing about.

it was always a little more fun to be able to pull him from some boring, dreadful meeting than when he was free to join you.

“come home,” you breathed, and you heard the way he hummed in the back of his throat.

“i can’t, come on. you know this. don’t make me feel bad.”

“but the bed’s cold, ran. aren’t you gonna come make it warm again?”

there was a brief pause and some speaking in the background. clearly he was in a meeting, which you had expected.

“warm up yourself, angel-“

“no, come home. i just want you.”

ran grunted into the phone, and you heard him pull the device from his ear and shout towards the voices in the background. it was muffled and broke up a bit; the reception in abandoned warehouses typically wasn’t the best.

“ran?”

“i’m here. just- stay put. ‘m coming. you gonna be good f’ me?”

“yeah.”

“fine. see you soon.” he hung up, and you smiled to yourself, successful in your endeavor.

you’d left the door open for him and left a set of sleep clothes at the edge of the bed for him. he hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that; the circles under his eyes and the way he forced himself out of bed in the mornings gave it away. something must have happened, or maybe something resurfaced — he hadn’t told you yet, but you could make an educated guess.

ran arrived at your place within the half hour, the heels of his slick shoes clicking along the floorboards as he made his way towards your room where you waited for him, cuddled up in your duvet with the lamp light casting everything in a warm yellow.

he nudged the door open with a huff, smiling briefly before pausing. “i have to admit, this isn’t what i was expecting.”

“what, don’t wanna just nap?”

“i thought you were calling for a hookup.”

“dirty mind! i never said that,” you giggled at his exasperated face before pulling back the covers to give him space. “come on, baby. you look exhausted. you’ve got bags under your eyes.”

“don’t say that shit, my eyes are fine.”

“because you steal my eye cream!” you pouted then, folding your arms at his pushback.

he grumbled at you but ultimately eyed up the empty space next to you in the bed, letting out a loud sigh.

“cant believe i left the meeting to come take a nap. what is this, high school? i used to do this shit as a kid. play hooky and sleep in weird places.” he yawned as he spoke, undressing his three-piece suit in exchange for the t-shirt and shorts you left out for him. you just nodded along and patted the space next to you for him to climb into.

he joined you, eventually, long limbs grabbing onto you to pull you in close and bury his face in your chest. you smiled as the scent of his cologne floated up around you, the smell of his hair gel right under your nose.

it felt like it was barely two minutes before your talkative boyfriend was knocked out against your chest, your fingers combing through his hair.

— RINDOU HAITANI.

to: annoying prick

me: come over.

annoying prick: how about a please?

me: come over Now. miss you.

annoying prick: i screenshotted that for evidence.

me: i hope you crash on your way here.

annoying prick: i didn’t say i was coming? smfh.

you rolled your eyes at your phone as you fussed with the string of his hoodie around your finger. rindou never listened when you invited him over, always giving you a hard time despite expecting you to bend to his will whenever he wanted to see you.

oftentimes things happened on his terms, not yours. which normally isn’t a problem, except for this one time when you wanted to fuck with him.

your finger hovered over the call button before you opted for another direction, opening up your camera and taking a quick photo of his hoodie string between your teeth, cute and suggestive and alluring. you made sure to get most of your upper body in the shot, laid back against your pillows.

me: [1 image]

me: come over? now?

annoying prick: is that my

annoying prick: cheap shot. stay there. don’t even think about touching.

you laughed at how quickly his tone changed, shaking your head at his ridiculousness. he was a grown man, sure, but he was rude and mean and often thought with his dick rather than his head.

you heard the revv of his bike engine before you saw it through his window, clicking your tongue when you spotted him without a helmet. you understood that he was some sort of criminal, but you kind of liked him, sort of, and didn’t actually want him to crash and die.

you watched him park the bike illegally in front of your place and hop off of it quickly, straightening out the front of his suit jacket as he walked up towards the door.

you heard him grumble when the door was locked, fucking around for the spare key before finally getting inside your home and beelining towards your room.

you broke into giggles as he shoved your door open and undid the front two buttons of his suit jacket, trying to clamber over your body on the bed. “tease, calling me home from bein’ busy just to fuck around, what are you-“

“aht,” you stopped him with a finger to his chest, shaking your head, “not what i invited you here for.”

he stared back at you, hesitating and hovering over your form. “excuse me?”

you chose that exact moment to whip out the puppy eyes, jutting out your bottom lip and laying back on your pillows, “my bed was cold, rin! just wanted you to come over and take a nap with me.”

he gawked at you before sitting up on his knees and running a hand through his hair. “are you being fucking serious?”

“yes.”

“you invited me over. to nap?”

“mhm. and now you’re here. so let’s take one.”

“what the-“

“please?” you cocked your head and tried the puppy eyes again, to which he made a face, but didn’t necessarily move away.

“i don’t have-“

“you leave clothes here all the time. i have some set out in the bathroom.”

“fuck you.”

“maybe next time.” you broke into laughter as he succumbed to his fate, getting out of your bed to disappear down the hall into your bathroom. he returned within five minutes, having changed into a pair of pajama pants and forgetting his shirt, standing at the side of your bed awkwardly.

“well? come in, i’m exhausted.”

“this is weird.”

“no it’s not. just lay down, asshole.” you huffed and pulled back the covers for him. he squinted at you, having taken his contacts out, before reluctantly crawling into the bed next to you. you snuggled up against his side, to which he tensed, but ultimately ended up wrapping an arm around you anyway.

he fell asleep before you did, mouth open and drooling all over your pillow. you took a photo, not because you liked him or anything… well…

— SANZU HARUCHIYO.

convincing sanzu to listen to you at all was like trying to train a poodle. it was very, very difficult because he was very, very defiant.

you knew he hadn’t been sleeping well. you knew it well, unfortunately; his work was catching up to him and drugs weren’t your favorite solution to the problem.

you told him time and time again that he needed rest, that it was because you cared that you were nagging at him, and yet he always bit right back at you like a dog nipping its owner’s hand.

you had had enough. so you decided to play the game.

you sat in his car waiting for him to finish some job in some remote part of the red light district, in a back alley with no prying eyes or lights, really.

you sat in wait until finally sanzu reappeared in the faded yellow light of the nearest street lamp, wiping his hands on a handkerchief and kicking a lead pipe against the wall. you chose not to question his line of work.

he grinned when he saw you in the passenger’s seat, as if he had forgotten you were there, and hurried around to the driver’s seat to get in and lean into your space.

“all done now, baby.” he pressed kisses to the corners of your lips, making you giggle before he caught your mouth with his own.

you hummed against his lips, lifting a hand to curl your fingers around his tie. “haru,” you breathed, tugging lightly on the fabric, “can we please get home? wanna get into bed with you…”

he pulled back slightly to meet your gaze with his own crazed one, eyes studying you almost clinically as a grin spread across his face. “oh yeah? baby wants to get home?”

“mhm.”

“hell yeah, i’ll get you fuckin’ home.” he pulled back from you to start the car, and you gripped the oh-shit handle because you knew he was just going to peel out of the alleyway.

and that he did, whipping down side streets and revving the engine, one hand on the wheel and the other gripping your thigh.

you giggled to yourself as you watched the veins in his arm, shaking your head. he just had no idea how easy he was to fool.

it took far shorter of a time than it should have to get back to your place, and he parked before hurrying out of the car and getting the passenger door for you.

you got out and led him to the door, feeling him stalk your every movement, only ever one step behind you. you unlocked your door and kicked your shoes off with a laugh as he tried to pin you against the nearest wall, freeing yourself from his grasp and making your way towards your room.

he grunted as he followed you, muttering something about you being a tease.

you turned on your heel once you got to your room and took a seat on the bed. “much better. i’m so tired, haru.”

“huh?”

“let’s just go to bed, how about it?” you started to get undressed as he stood in your doorway, scarred lips twitching with confusion.

“what are you talking about?”

“haru, let’s go to bed. i know you’re tired too.”

“no, this is-“

“no buts.” you stood to shimmy out of the rest of your clothing and tug your pajamas on. “strip and cuddle with me.”

haru wasn’t a cuddler, not by a long shot. but, with you…

he felt like he blinked, and suddenly he was on his back in your bed with you at his side in the dark. you snuggled up closer to him and ran your fingers through his hair.

soon enough, his breathing evened out, and you smiled to yourself as his grip on you grew tighter in his sleep.

[jinxthequeergirl]

The Ol Switcharoo (pt5)

Stan x reader / ford x reader

Summary: you are forced to question the life you've lived for 30 years.

Warning: none

☆anyone on my tagliatelle who isn't seeing this when I Tag them let me know ik I've been having problems tagging a few of ya'll

~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~

"I'm feeling little over dressed for the occasion." You said stepping into the kitchen wearing one of your best outfits for the date Mable had prepared for you and Stanford.

Stanford stood in the kitchen with a smile. "Are you kidding!? Look at'cha, you're stunning!" Stanford said you smiled as he reached out a hand and guided you to the table, pulling out your seat before pushing you in and sitting down himself.

Mable insisted your first date be at home, Dipper and Soos dressed to a T in fancy waiter outfits the table set with the nicest/ least stained tablecloth in the house. And Mable in a chef hat.

"I promise to take out out somewhere real nice." Stanford whispered as Mable scooped whatever she had on the stove onto plates. You chuckled in response before Dipper and soos presented you with the meals.

Your eyes widened. You looked at Stanford mouthing a thank you for the real date dinner in advance. Stanford managed to get you away from Mable and Into the car for some real food.

"Most fancy places are closed for the night. The best I can offer is burgers." He said, driving down the quiet road. "I love Mable, but anything is better than that." You both laughed. Eventually, you had your food as he pulled up to the lake, and you both sat and ate. Talking Like two teenagers on a first date.

For the following weeks, you found your rooms were now shared, and mornings and evening were greeted with quick kisses. It was a new routine you found yourselves falling into. Mable noted that stan was "a lot less grunkler" since the change. Even when everything was crazy it still worked.

After everything in your lives had finally calmed down, after saving the shack, repairing it, a Zombie apocalypse. You found the house was silent with what felt like the first night of peaceful sleep.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n! I have been trying to reach you for a while!"

The voice that pulled you from your sleep boomed loud enough to startle you awake. You sat up in bed seeing the world around you was greyscaled Stanford fast asleep next to you and a familiar glowing freak above you.

His single eye staring down at you.

"Wh...will?..what are you doing here?"

You asked, sitting up as you did the world around, turned up right, causing you to slide straight out of bed into a chair. "Relax, we're in your dream, and the names BILL though I can't say I blame you, I was a complete and total secret but trust me y/n I know all about you."

You stared at him squinting, you where far to tired to understand what he was saying to you right now.

"What do you want?"

"A truce, I came to apologize for breaking into stans mind and almost killing shooting star and pine tree. And to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Something big is coming something that will change your life! And I want you to know I'm on your side."

"On my side? Bill, I don't understand what you are talking about!"

"Trust me, you will, and when you do, you'll want a friend to be there for you, I'm offering myself for when everything you know changes. By the way, how well do you really know that stan?" He asked, pointing to Stanford asleep in bed.

"That stan?" You turned back, but as you did, you shot up in bed, clutching a piece of paper, breathing heavy. You looked down at the paper that looked like it had been torn out of something.

"Contact me, BFF!" Was scribbled across the top, and twoard the bottom was a cipher and some sort of incantation. You still fought to catch your breath. Your hand moved to shake Stanford awake, but your hand fell straight through the air and hit the empty space of your mattress.

"Stanford?"

That was a couple of weeks ago. You had folded up the page and tucked it under your mattress, trying to forget about the whole thing.

But every know and then you would get this hotrible feeling, you started to look at stanford weird and did your best to shake off the feeling. Luckily, Stanford had promised to take you out to dinner just the two of you. He told you he had something important to tell you.

"Aaahh, what if he asks you to marry him!?" Mable said excitedly from behind you as you had let her brush your hair. "I highly doubt that. You said clipping your last earring into place.

"Dipper! Doesn't y/n look beautiful! Grunkle stans going to ask her to marry him!" You rolled your eyes and looked at dippers worried face in the mirror.

"What's wrong?" You asked, turning around and crouching to his level. "Y/n There's something important I want to share with you I wanted to come to you first but I went against my better judgment and told stan first now i know you where the right choice."

"Of course you know you can tell me anything, dipper."

"OK you know about how strange and unusual gravity falls is." You nodded thinking to every monster, dinosaur, and ghost you had encountered with the twins even recalling some of the stuff from when you were young. Then the feeling set in again.

"Something big is coming something that will change your life as you know it!"

Rang out in your head. You wondered if what Dipper was about to tell you had anything to do with this. "Ah, c'mon dipdip can't this wait till after y/n and stan get home?" Mable asked, appearing from behind you now covered in makeup. Dipper rubbed his arm. "I guess..."

"Are you sure, Dipper? I can listen." He nodded. "OK, I'll see you in a few hours, ok?" You said ruffling his head. "Call if anything happens.

That was an hour ago already. You sat nervously at the restaurant Stanford promised to meet you at after he finished a few things up at the shack.

You tapped your glass and counted cars as they drove past the window you were sat by and looked at the gifted (more like lifted since it was a stolen antique store in portland) watch on your wrist and saw how late it was getting.

You sighed, resting your head on the table, watching the water droplets race down your glass. And you watched as the glass went up as the hair that fell around your face go cup as well. You pushed yourself up only to find yourself lifting out of the chair into the air before crashing back into your booth.

You paused only for a moment, trying to wrap your head around what that might have been, then ran to call the Pines family.

There was no answer for a long time you hung up and refilled several times before giving up. You grabbed your things and raced to the shack only being stopped by the same phenomenon as before.

Was this part of what Bill was trying to tell you about? Where are Stanford and the kids ok? So many thoughts raced through your head as you ran as fast as you could home.

"WHY would they call him unnamed!?"

"Unless stan isn't really stan"

The two kids looked up at the large painting of their great uncle on the wall behind them in horror.

"But there has to be some explanation as to why he would have all these fake ID'S and why that news paper says he's dead." Mable said trying to rationalize as Dipper continued to pull things from the box

"What about Y/n!? Is y/n even y/n!? What if she's in on this!?"

"In on what?" You asked pushing open the door.

The kids both screamed at your appearance.

"Are you kids ok!? Where is your grunkle and...what is all this?" You asked stepping further into the room to get a better look at what they had laid out on the floor in front of them.

In a different universe, Stanford Pines was an honest man. In a different universe, he didn't lie or cheat. He showed up to his date on time, there was no weird gravital anomalies interrupting your day.

You thought about this alternate reality as you stood over the fake IDs, news paper clipping, pass ports, the screen from the shack security cameras glow portraying a man you only assumed to be Stanford pines carrying gallons worth if toxic waste into the gift shop.

"What is this?"

You asked staring down at it afraid to move. "Is this why there are government vehicles surrounding this place?"

"You mean you don't know why stand has all this?" Dipper asked.

You shook your head.

In another universe, Stanford agreed to visit your family, even to just get away with you. In that same universe, he never changed, you where still hunting monsters and doing science stuff. In that same universe, you move out of the shack into a lovely home you share together, you teach together, and you live a beautiful and adventurous life. And he was still your Frodsy.

You didn't realize, but there was a ringing in your ear that tuned out the two children as they talked. All you could do is let time pass as your brain tried to work out yet another explanation.

Then Mable found the code.

"This isn't like any code I've ever seen before." Dipper said.

"The vending machine." You said quietly.

Your body had a mind of its own as you followed the twins to the vending machine in the giftshop.

"How well do you know that stan?"

This had to be what Bill meant by "that stan"

Without thinking, you typed the code into the vending machine as the kids distracted and fought off Soos, Without thinking...

"He swore he blocked this off..." You going down the stairs you hadn't seen in 30 years.

You felt as though you could throw up. Whe. You saw what was going on in the basement, the portal up and running, and with only a few moments to go. "So this is what's been causing problems... this is where he's been going!?" You half shout half say to the room.

You stare down at the desk seeing two familiar red journal. "The journal..." You and Dipper say at the same time.

"You know about these?" You ask in unison again.

"Your grunkle and I wrote them? How do you know about these?"

"When I said I wanted to tell you something." You watched Dipper pull a third journal from his vest.

"Grunkle stan wrote these?" Mable asked when you took the journal from dippers hands opening all of them to reveal the blueprints for the portal that sat in the room adjacent the one you stood in.

"What is it?" Dipper asked, looking at the pages. You glanced up at the timer and suddenly felt yourself fliat back into your body and realization kicked in "We have no time.We need to shut it off now. Kids stay here. Soos come help me. " You moved quickly. "We can help!"

"No! Please just stay safe! If your grunkle gets back, do NOT let him out of this control room!" You ordered them.

You and soos worked quickly enough to turn off the emergency kill switch just like you rememberd doing years ago. You felt a million emotions trickling inside you. Most of all, you felt angry that he would lie about keeping the portal, lie about working on it, and keep you out of it.

You scanned the room as the portal whipped your hair around you finally spotted it.

30 years never felt more wasted than it did in this very moment the moment it took you to walk from the key switch all the way to the shiny red button.

"Y/n Wait!" You frozen looking over at Stanford in the door way as the kids and now soos pushed him back.

"Don't touch that button, please!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

the kids couldn't hold him any longer, and he pushed past them running to meet you only to stop halfway, noticing you inch closer to the button as a defense. "Please! Just wait! Don't do anything! I can explain!" You watched Mable and Dipper get up. Dipper made eye contact with you as if he were trying to telepathically tell you something. It only took you spotting Mable trying to sneak around you for you to realize.

You stepped forward, pointing an accusing finger at Stanford. "After everything! You lied to me!? For how long!? When were you going to tell me? DONT YOU REMEMBER ALL THE HORRIBLE THINGS THIS THING HAS DONE!?" You asked poking him in the chest with a finger pushing him away from the button where Mable now stood.

"Yes! I wanted to tell you sooner! I was going to tell you today-"

"Today!? That's why you wanted to have dinner." You were getting off track. Before anyone could say anything else, your feet lifted off the ground, and you were in the air. "Now, Mable, press it now!" You heard Dipper yell.

"Mable, wait!" She froze as Stanford dove through the air for her as she gripped onto the pole.

Dipper soos and yourself took onto the task of catching him and pulling him away from her.

"30 YEARS OF NOTHING! STANFORD PINES! I CANT BELIEVE I WAISTED ALL THIS TIME JUST FOR YOU TO PULL A STUNT LIKE THIS!" He watched your angry tears roll down your cheek then up into the air around you.

"It wasnt waited, just hear me out all of you!" He plead as you held him against the wall. He stared you in the eyes a sad look met your furious gaze.

"I wanted to tell you all, your going to hear some bad stuff about me, some of it's true but believe me everything! Even this is for my family for a of you." He said the last part pointedly at you.

"Hit the button mable!" You yelled.

"Don't trust him!" Dipper followed up.

She looked around at everyone when her eyes locked with stanfords you knew what she was going to say

You quickly made a move to push it before her, but Stanford grabbed your hand and held you back. "I'm sorry! Trust me." You stared at him.

"I trust you grunkle stan!"

~~~~~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~~

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