#what happened to calling people losers and going about your day

[celestiamour]

Hi!! I saw that you had open requests for conclave, so I wanted to ask if you could make more Thomas Lawrence x fem reader smut? Maybe a needy Thomas or something, people don't write about him enough 😞

TYSM<33❤️💕

🎨 anon- since now:)

ft. thomas lawrence x f! reader — conclave

╰₊✧ the spirit is weak and the flesh is willing┊0.8k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub lawrence┊slighttt dubcon, succubus reader, mention of erectile dysfunction & references to his age, blowjobs, all happening in a dream, snowballing

➤ author's note: hii new nonnie!! something short for now since i’m getting ready to write all of those conclave fics in the poll plus all my squid game requests, but i look forward to seeing you in my inbox more often to thirst for this loser mwahhh (also this is kinda similar to the previous fic i wrote but oh my god i love torturing him)

as most people do, thomas has a few rituals he performs before going to bed: cleaning any clutter that may be in his room, showering and brushing his teeth, reading scripture and saying his prayers (specifically reciting psalms 91, he always makes a point to remember)— all typical things clergymen do before resting. however, there are a few other things he does that seem strange, even for a man like him.

he makes sure everything is in place, checking obsessively before taking a breather. his home is anointed with holy oil, a mixture of olive and other essential oils which were blessed and smeared in little crosses over all the surfaces of his home.  there’s a crucifix hung in every room, maybe even two if it’s more spacious. salt lines his doors and windows wherever there may be a crack.

he does everything he can to keep demons away while he’s in his most vulnerable state, but he still fiddles with his rosary before hesitantly drifting off to sleep, feeling like a child who is scared of the monsters in the dark. in all honesty, the monsters with sharp fangs and glowing red eyes in storybooks would be better than what he’s dealing with. at least then, he would feel less guilt and wake up feeling something other than shame for what has been happening in his dreams.

for the past four and a half months, you’ve been showing up in his dreams a few times per week, a winged creature with little horns on the top of her head and a pointed tail. a succubus who was looking to feed and chose a man who had dedicated his life to the church, which was against all you stood for. it wasn’t a coincidence, no, you chose him because you thought it was funny to taunt a man who was required to stay celibate for some sick, sadistic reason. you’ve even called him cute on multiple occasions, finding it adorable all the things this old man will say and do in an attempt to ward you off at first.

sometimes you wear lace, other times you wear latex. it’s always scandalous and leaves little to the imagination, but that always gets him more flustered than if you wore nothing at all. you tease him, caressing his face with the back of your hand, telling him all the things you want to do to him, asking him if he was having more fun serving god during the day rather than spending time with you at night, but you never force him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

no, the best part is when he finds himself backed up in a corner, his hardened cock stirring in his trousers in ways that he thought were no longer possible, and the scent of your perfume making him dizzy with lust. the best part is when he cracks like glass, whispering a few pleas before outright begging for you when you pretend you can’t hear him.

it’s the most satisfying sound really, the sound of a man giving in to his most carnal desires and pathetically allowing stings of “please” to slip past his throat as you give him what he wants. it’s almost like he forgets what he’s made his entire life’s purpose the moment your mouth is on him, running your tongue along his length and teasing his tip while alternating between long and kitten licks. despite his age, he finds himself acting like a teenage boy again due to his inexperience, cumming in your mouth after barely two minutes like a loser.

he takes several deep breaths before opening his eyes, wincing at the slight overstimulation when you slowly loosen your jaw and let go of him with a ‘pop,’ the little string of drool connecting your swollen lips to his tip makes you smile before abruptly standing up and kissing him with aggression, so much so that he wakes up with a start with sunlight leaking into his bedroom.

thomas can still taste you, your sweet spit mixed with the saltiness of himself. the recollection of the nightmare makes him feel feverish, pulling the sheets off only to find his underwear sticky with evidence of his release. he takes a cold hard shower and prays before leaving his house, making a mental note to figure out another way to keep you away from him at all costs possible.

you can’t tell if he’s more stupid than he looks or is simply in deep denial. he can do all he wants to his house and say all the prayers he wants, but his mind is like an open portal for you to waltz into. despite everything he says and does, he’s just as weak as any other man to temptation, and his secretly perverted mind is more than willing to let you enter no matter how much he would deny it. 

[saveadancejustforyou]

Is there something to be said about Teyanas treatment during this galavant?👁

[jamminvroomvroom]

let’s go ride.

LN x fem!reader

in which lando keeps getting frustrated and you wanna know why…

hiiiiii here u go! belated love day fic from me to you 💝 love u all, tysm for the love on my last few fics, i’ve had a lot going on lately so i’ve not had very much time to write but when the inspo hits….. shoutout to miss mcrae for dropping lando-coded bangers bc i literally cannot resist. might make a part 2 of all the times they get freaky in a car lmao, lemme know if you want that! likes, comments and reblogs are sooooo appreciated so lemme know what u think xoxox

proofed by my own personal goat @lavenderlando 💖

songs to set the vibes: sports car by tate mcrae, bad guy by billie eilish

warnings: 18+!! minors begone! smut, language, fluff, bit of angst bc lando’s in a mood, friends to lovers, p in v, porn without plot but there is a little bit of plot, bitchy lando

4.2k words

you sit in silence, opening spotify and preparing to fiddle with the bluetooth as he slips into the drivers seat beside you. the car door slams shut and he huffs, jawline taut with annoyance. the hood of his car is surrounded, a million and one cameras pointed at you both as he tries to relax into his chair. the engine roars to life and you side eye him.

“when are you gonna learn, hm?” you try and sound playful, teasing, but it comes out laced with a twang of scolding. lando tenses up even further, turning to glare at you.

“god forbid i go outside.” he snaps.

“give over.” you roll your eyes. “poor me, i’m famous! lando, you can’t get angry when you park in the most high profile spot on the fucking planet and your fans want to worship you.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he sighs, white knuckles wrapping tighter around the steering wheel.

“don’t i? this has been happening a lot lately.” your voice softens, ever so slightly. “every time i’m seen with you, you lash out.”

“because i don’t want people harassing you, looking at you like some fucking commodity.” lando snarls, steely eyes locked on the supposed car enthusiasts that are slowly backing away from his parking space.

“lando, we’re friends. this has always been a thing. why is it bothering you so much now?”

you wonder if it bothers him for the same reason it bothers you.

he shuts his eyes, collecting himself for a moment. he puts the car in drive and smoothly pulls out of the space, ignores your question. you scowl at him, at this sudden childishness that has overtaken his easygoing manner in the last few months.

“fine. whatever.” you mutter, slumping defeatedly into your seat. you give up on playing music, leaving him to bask in the silence, something he loathed.

lando had switched from his usual self to this stony, irate version of him that you rarely had the displeasure of seeing, from the second you walked out of the restaurant where you’d had lunch. he was reluctant to pose for photos and sign hats, something he usually revelled in, grateful that people even wanted to see him. the swathes of fans that had gathered had irked him for once, but what really boiled his blood was the photographers that seemed to find him no matter where he chose to spend him time. so much for monaco’s privacy laws.

it wasn’t like he cared about himself, either. it was you. the way they leered, leaned close to you while he was distracted with pens being shoved in his face. it was the way their eyes dipped low, whether you were in a tank top or a baggy hoodie. it was the way they spread the false, painful narrative all over the internet that you and lando were together, which drove hoards of losers into your comment section and your DMs just to call you names.

you were not together. as much as it pained him, you were just friends.

he couldn’t exactly explain his overprotectiveness to you without getting himself into a big, tangled mess. you, being the resilient, cool as a cucumber stoic that you were didn’t care what fourteen year olds on the internet thought about you. you weren’t about to let faceless, jobless trolls ruin the friendship that you’d nurtured for years, through ups and downs, thick and thin, race wins and huge losses. but lando, god, it killed him, tore him up inside every time someone so much as looked at you wrong.

“you really don’t get it.” he says, hushed, like he’s telling a secret. you turn to look at him, tearing your eyes away from the glistening view of the marina.

“lando, tell me then. make it make sense because i’ve never seen you behave like this. they love you! least you can do is lose the attitude over some harmless pictures.”

“jesus christ, it’s not the fans! it’s not the ‘harmless pictures’! it’s these fucking creeps that follow us around just to make some money off of my own personal hell. you really don’t get it, because if you did, you’d know that it breaks my fucking heart to see the way people talk about you online, just for being seen with me. it’s my fault that you get harassed, that paps are basically stalking you now.”

he signs of his rant with a sharp inhale, one that seems to suck all of the life out of the car. you melt.

“but lando, it doesn’t bother me. i just wanna be here with you, i don’t care about the rest of it.” you coo softly, reaching over the centre console to grip his forearm.

“and i want you here. i want you with me every fucking second of the day, but i can’t cope. can’t help thinking that one day it’ll all just be too much and you’ll leave me.” he whispers.

“never. never ever ever.” you promise. your belly swirls with emotions, tickled from the inside out by butterflies that threaten to swarm.

lando breathes shakily, warmed through by the hand that rests on his arm as he manoeuvres through the twisty lanes. as he hits traffic and slows, he clocks another photographer looming on the pavement, lens aimed at his windshield. already too annoyed, he aggressively smacks his sun visor down, leaning over the console to reach yours too, pulling it down. he prays it’s enough.

“you need to relax, lan. i’m fine, we’re fine. i promise.” you reassure, but he’s breathing heavily now. “you don’t worry this much when it’s max.” you trail off.

he doesn’t know what comes over him. he spins the car into a sharp u-turn, positively speeding back in the direction you’d just come from. any mention of you and him as a ‘we’ makes him crazy, makes him utterly lose his mind, but something about your sweet, earnest voice bringing him back to reality has left him completely shaken. the sun is setting now, most people clearing out of the underground car park he pulls into to head back to their homes. he has other intentions. you don’t say another word until he pulls into a space at the back of the lot, tucked neatly into a corner.

“what are we doing?”

“need a minute.” lando rasps, forehead resting on his steering wheel, the matte leather pushing his sharp curls back. you trail your eyes over him, the way his chest rises and falls under the sweatshirt he’s wearing, the way his thick fingers curl as his grip continues to tighten.

“i’m jealous. and i’m selfish. and i’m a complete fucking idiot.” lando says, steadily, like he’s reading the news.

“you’re… you’re jealous? of what?” you’re like a deer in headlights.

“of any other person that gets to lay their fucking eyes on you.”

“what are you saying?” you whisper. the air in the car goes still, frozen. you can’t breathe.

“i’m saying… that you’re mine. and i should have made that a known fact a long time ago.” ever so slowly he looks up at you, and you gasp at the intensity of his stare. he’s gazing at you with complete conviction in his eyes, a whole lot of vulnerability mixed in with the sincerity of his words. “i don’t want anyone else anywhere near you. lose my fucking mind watching the way they look at you.”

“lando…” you trail off, eyes as wide as saucers. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

“i know this is terrible of me, to do this now, here - to do this at all, to be honest. i know that i have no right to stake some kind of claim on you, and i know that you probably don’t feel the same, but god, i just needed you to know. if you want me to shut the fuck up or leave you alone forever then i totally get it but-“

“oh my god, are you stupid?” you shake your head, still stuck in your state of disbelief, but you muster the coherency to grip the collar of his crewneck, tug him close.

your lips meet hastily, urgently, and every ounce to tension seems to seep out of the car. he moans at the very sensation of you against him, breath caught in his throat when you lace your finger through his hair like you want to mould your faces together, never stop. his brain finally catches up, awestruck as he is, and you trade passion and saliva, bumping noses as you clash chaotically.

“i think we’re both stupid.” he mumbles into your lips. you shut him up with another kiss, fiery and needy, and his hands begin to wander. he smoothes over the back of your jumper until he finds your waist, awkward in the limited space of the front of the car, and skims his hands up until he’s made his way beneath the material and he’s gripping your bare skin.

“too forward of me to ask you to get in the back?” lando pants with a cheeky smile.

“you literally just marked your territory on me, and nearly bit a photographer. i think we’re past ‘forward’.” you deadpan.

“then get in the fucking back.” he grins, devilish and commanding. you do as you’re told, wriggling between the leather until you’re propped up against the backseat. lando follows, sitting beside you, tugs you into his lap like you’re weightless.

you can feel him beneath you, hard and wanting, and you mewl, keen into him. your breaths mingle in the nonexistent space, lips brushing gently.

“this okay?” lando’s lips ghost over yours and you lean forward, just enough to reach him. he pulls back, eyes hooded, teasing, and tuts. “use your words.”

“who knew you were such a bossy boots.” you smirk. “more than okay.”

his eyes glaze over once he has your permission, and he kisses you like you’re the last supply of oxygen on earth. he licks into your mouth, wet and desperate and you whimper as he grazes over the crease of your thigh, toying with the hem of your skirt where it’s ridden up.

“can feel you.” lando groans, pulling away to look between your bodies. “so warm for me, you like seeing me all riled up?”

you nod coyly, lip caught between your teeth, and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter.

“what did i say about words?” lando composes himself enough to tease. you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way heat rolls through your body.

“like when you get all bitchy.” you reply, rolling your hips once.

“bitchy?”

“mhm. always been so easy to toy with.” you whisper, leaning in to nose along the thickness of his neck. you drag your tongue up the vein there, feeling it pulse under your tongue. he smells like his cologne, so him, and it makes you even hotter.

“oh, so you’ve been playing with me?” he chokes out, eyes rolling back in his head at the marks you’re leaving.

“maybe a little.” you hum.

“you liked watching me get angry? pretending to be all sweet and clueless?” lando whispers, the words hanging heavy in the space between you. all you can manage in response is a mischievous smile that twists his tummy.

your hands trail under his sweatshirt, skating over the muscled ripples of his belly, ever so slightly dipping into the band of his sweats. his head lulls back, blindly holding you close while you worship him. he lets you, lets himself have this moment, thinking for so long that it would never come.

“waited so long,” your lips brush over the shell of his ear, tongue grazing the lobe. he descends into a mess of shivers. “needed you to break first. i knew you would.” you croon.

“you’ve been loving this, haven’t you?” lando starts, low and calculating. “bet you’ve been getting off on dressing like a whore for the cameras, watching me suffer.” he pieces together. your resolve cracks. “bad girl.”

the sense of control you’d briefly maintained shatters, a hand around your neck forcing you away from him, preventing your sweet torture. his fingers flex, just above your collarbone, and you swallow at the smirk that seems to engulf his entire face. he looks animalistic, crazed with a feral adoration that leaves you certain that you’re dripping all over his lap.

“i think you’ve had your fun, baby, it’s my turn.”

you whine when he drags you across his lap, back and forth until you’re squirming. his hips rut up into yours, fuelling your desire for every single inch of him.

“please, lando.” you breathe, reaching out to lace your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“let me look at you.” he demands, shutting down your intentions for more. “i’ve waited long enough for this, don’t you think?”

“so have i.” you beg him with your eyes, but give in to him nonetheless. you’re staining his lap, grey sweats darkening as your wetness pools there and he can’t help but buck up into your warmth.

“wanna play with you, baby, see how you like it.” he taunts, bringing two fingers between your legs.

he brushes his knuckles over the obvious damp patch at the crotch of your panties, lip caught between his teeth at what he finds. your soaked through, and he pinches your bundle of nerves just to watch you thrash in his grip.

“i hate you right now.” you spit through gritted teeth, but your hips can’t help but chase his hand.

“doesn’t feel like it.” he kisses you quick, loving the way you lean in for more, but he relaxes against the seat and dips slowly beneath your underwear. “fuck.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to spread your wetness around, you’re already lathered in it, but he continues to tease, fingers gliding over your clit and through your folds.

“please.” you beg, leaning back to give him as much access as possible.

“what do you want, baby? tell me.” he urges, drawing circles on the swollen bundle of nerves.

“your fingers.”

“you have them.” he barks out a condescending laugh, applying more pressure just to prove his point.

“need them inside of me.” you pant, eyes squeezing shut at his sadistic game between your thighs.

“that’s my girl.” he praises, and you curse, clamping down around him before he even gets the first knuckle inside of you.

“how are you doing this to me?” you think aloud, tears in your waterline already. it all feels far too good for a first time.

“because i know you better than you think i do.” he coos.

lando pulls you flush against him, grinding his fingers deep so that they curl deliciously against your sweet spot. his palm bumps your clit with every twist of digits and he nips over your collarbone. his tongue laves over your skin, tasting the perspiration that gathers as the car steams up around you. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, huddled together in the back of his urus in a dimly lit car park. thank god you’d lost the photographers.

“can’t believe we’re doing this.” you gasp, feeling your tummy tighten at the thrill of it all, of feeling your best friend work to please you.

“i knew it would happen. knew that someday i’d get to see you like this, all for me.”

“all for you.” you repeat, drunk on him as you rode his fingers. “feels so good.”

“want you to come for me like this.” lando orders, replacing the heel of his hand with his thumb against your clit. his ministrations are more controlled like this, precise, and you throw your head back in pleasure. his teeth sink in to the base of your neck, sucking softly over the bruising skin, lapping at the mark to soothe it.

“i’m so close, lan.”* you choke, riding his fingers as you near your release.

“c’mon baby, make a mess for me.” he urges, eyes locked intensely on yours. you’re enticed by the sea green storm that swirls in his irises, shrinking as his pupils blow with lust. you can’t help it, can’t delay the inevitable, and you thrash in his arms, wildly bucking your hips against his as you fall apart.

you gush all over his lap, further ruining his sweatpants but he doesn’t bat an eyelid, working you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s transfixed by the way your thighs glisten, by the way your release seeps through the material covering his crotch and it makes him throb.

“that’s it baby.” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. you pant, collapsing forwards onto him.

“thank you.” you whisper into his neck, and he laughs softly.

“don’t thank me, silly girl.” he coos into your ear. you pull back just enough to kiss him, taking it slow, giving you a moment to come down from your devastatingly intense high. you’re exhausted, eyes fluttering shut from the exertion, and he tucks sweaty strands of your hair behind your ears. his fingers graze your warmed cheeks, noses bumping and you take him in, carefully studying the lines of his face, the sharp slope of his nose, the flutter of his eyelashes against those ridiculously high cheekbones.

“you’re so pretty.” your voice floats over him like a delicate caress, makes him shiver. he grins at you, enamoured.

“didn’t think our first time would be in the back of my car but i don’t think i can’t wait to get you home.”

“you’ve thought about this?” you ask, bashful. he gazes up at you sheepishly.

“every night before bed.” he jokes, and you shift your hips.

you’re overstimulated, but it does the trick, the playful haze shattering, replaced by thick, charged tension.

“you gonna make that fantasy a reality?”

“yeah. yeah, i am.” he mumbles.

his hands skim your waist, pushing your jumper up as he goes higher and higher, until it’s off, chucked into the footwell. you tear at his sweatshirt until it joins your discarded clothing and explore the bronzed planes of his chest, extra sun-kissed by the trip you’d taken to dubai just a few weeks before. if only you’d known then…

“hurry.” you plead, and he scoffs, adjusting you on his lap just enough to free himself from his sweatpants and boxers, and you gawk down at what’s revealed to you.

it’s big, thick, and you sigh in relief that he’d so thoroughly stretched you out, got you nice and slick for him already.

“gonna take it all for me?” lando taunts, catching your hanging jaw between two firm fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“gonna try.” you reason, breathing shakily as you rise up on your knees. you feel the head of his cock prodding your clit, the sodden tip running along your folds until it catches on your entrance. you both hiss as the contact, his hands steadying your hips.

“you can do it, baby.” lando promises, helps you begin your descent.

“oh my god.” you gasp, sinking down slowly. “dunno if i can take it, lan, you’re so- so…” you trail off, head thrown back far enough that you miss the way he’s smirking up at you.

“c’mon baby, being such a good girl for me, i know you can take it. just a little more.” he goads, pressing each button of your apparent praise kink, and you whine, soft moans tumbling from your lips. a sense of determination becomes you, and you’re aching to take him all the way.

you cry out his name when you’re pressed flush against him, and he soothes circles into your hips, holding you close against his chest. one hand smoothes through your hair, the lace of your bra scratching against his chest as you breathe rapidly.

“well done, baby, knew you could do it.” lando praises, trailing kisses over your face. you quiver in his hold, hips wiggling ever so slightly, and he takes that as a sign. “want me to do the work, hmm? make you feel so good?”

you nod lazily, looking up at him from where your face is smushed against his shoulder, and he lets you break his rule of “words”, softened by how beautiful you look, vulnerable in his strong arms. he starts to move, fucking up into you slowly, feeling you out. you can feel him twitch inside of you, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of you, tight and warm, enveloped all around him. you roll your hips languidly, meeting his thrusts and you both moan out as the explosion of sensations unfolds between you.

“harder, lando. can take it.” you mumble, glazed over doe eyes looking into his. he tenses up, shaken to the very core by the emotional tether between you, feeling the way it grows even stronger. the one woman he’d wanted since he’d laid eyes on you, the one women he never thought he could have; his heart pounds violently in his chest.

he readjusts your hips, pushing you back so that you’re upright once more, eyes raking hungrily over your flushed body. your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties tugged to the side, cups of your bra barely covering anything anymore. he tweaks a nipple through the lace, paws at your tits until you’re fluttering around him. the cups of your bra are tugged down, resting below your breasts and he swallows hard.

“fuck me, you’re so beautiful.” lando rasps, leaning you back further to perfect the angle.

once he’s satisfied, he bounces you against him, meeting your hips with harsh thrusts, his pace unrelenting. he can see the way you pool around his base, dampening the thatching of hair that decorates his pelvic bone. you seem to chase the friction there, rutting your clit against him. sweet puffs of breath fill his ears, melodic combined with a symphony of your needy whines, continuously intensifying as he fucks you deeper and deeper.

“it’s so good.” you slur, mouth hanging open, totally unhinged from the raw pleasure that he courses through your veins.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby.” he wants to say more, but then he sees it, the way your lower belly seems to protrude with every roll of his hips. “oh, fuck.” he cries out.

“do you see that, baby? see how deep i am?” lando growls, voice rippling through your connected bodies. you glance down, and the first tears start to fall.

“oh my god.” you repeat, nothing else to say, totally braindead at the sight. your cheeks are wet with tear tracks, utterly overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you, so blissful that it hurts.

“you crying for me, baby? do i feel that good?” lando mocks, reinvigorated by the way your tears gather at your collarbone. his hand swipes messily against your throat, swiping them away, but you catch his hand, keeping it there. your eyes lock as your hand squeezes around his, a silent plea. he rocks up into you even harder, hand clamping around you neck slowly, leaving your breathless, liquid heat shooting down your spine. you can’t stop it from hitting you like a ton of bricks, can’t hold back, not when he’s making it hurt so fucking good.

“lando, i can’t- i’m gonna- fuck.” you bellow, falling to pieces around him. he keeps you propped up through your orgasm, plowing into your limp body until you’re so tight around him that he quite literally can’t keep going. he shudders, repeating your name like a godforsaken prayer as his abs flex beneath your shaky hands. you feel him filling you up, shots of warmth painting your insides.

lando lets you collapse into his arms, holding you tight as you both tremble in the silence of the car. condensation rolls down the windows, giving away your frenzied desires. if anyone caught sight of his car, it wouldn’t be hard to do the math.

“gonna let me take you home so we can do that again?” lando laughs, breathing you in. he can feel the way your chest rumbles softly in response, hears your angelic, raspy laugh.

“gimme a sec, don’t think i can move ever again.” you groan, sighing into his chest.

you stay there for a while, basking in it, coming down. he traces shapes into the bare skin of your back; you absentmindedly trace a heart into the window fog.

when you finally manage to redress, it’s dark outside, bright lights casting patterns into the calm midnight of the marina. he holds your hand as he drives up into the heights of monaco, and you stare at the way yours fits so perfectly with his, just like how your head tucked so perfectly into the crook of his neck. you smile out the window and lando smiles at you.

by the time bedtime rolls around, you’re both well and truly exhausted. when you try and wriggle out of his grip, ready to retreat back to the guest room like a wounded animal, lando pouts - pouts! - and holds you even tighter.

“silly girl.” he kisses the words into your hairline, and drifts off to sleep.

-

hehe

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taglist

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed! any tags that don’t work will be removed xo

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taglist cont. in reblogs. smooches

[humanjarvis]

my happy is your happy

synopsis: luke thinks sylus should make more friends. but does he really need them?

tags: fluff, kinda comfort?, unintentional family dynamics (idk what came over me i didn’t expect that to happen), potential unrealistic use of sylus’s evol bc what does “energy manipulation” even mean, reader is protective of sylus, sylus overhears, asterisks to denote pov shifts bc i didn't want to use dividers pairing: sylus x reader word count: 774

a/n: it’s been like 2 days of people calling sylus a friendless loser on twitter and that’s fine but IIIII don’t think ur a loser, sylus. wrote this on a whim in the last 2 hours, questionably proofread

“Have you ever noticed that Boss doesn’t have any friends?” Luke’s youthful voice rings out, putting a swift end to your peaceful night of reading on the couch. 

Folding your half-finished book over your lap, you look up at his masked face, raising an eyebrow. “He has you.” 

Luke scoffs. “I don’t count, obviously.”

“He has Kieran.”

“We’re practically the same person. Try again,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

“…He has Mephisto,” you offer, an innocent grin on your face. 

He doesn’t even dignify that one with a response. 

“He's still in his 20s, for God’s sake! Don’t you think he should go out more? Party a little, meet some new people?” Luke asks, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

“Not if he doesn’t think he needs to,” you say simply. 

*** 

Sylus had just stepped out of the shower when he overheard your tired voice from the living room. Not if I don’t think I need to…what? he ponders, mulling over the possibilities. Increase their monthly allowance? Install lasers into Mephisto’s eyes? Entrust Onychinus to the twins in my will?

“But no friends?” Luke asks dramatically, snapping Sylus out of his thoughts. “None? Not even one?”

Oh, Sylus thinks. That. 

Realizing you were defending his…comfortable lifestyle, Sylus feels something warm and tight and slightly wistful squeeze in his chest. Smiling to himself, he shrouds his body in the dark wisps of his Evol and moves closer, watching the rest of your conversation with interest. 

*** 

Exasperated, you run a hand through your hair. “Luke, I think you’re overthinking this. Not everyone wants to go out and party and meet people. What about Sylus makes you think he wants to go out and party and meet people? You put him in a room full of cheap club music and cheaper beer, and he’s going to evaporate into thin air. Or cause a mass casualty incident,” you say, only to be met with silence. 

Sighing, you start again. “Look, I understand that you care about him and want to make sure he’s happy—I do too—but Sylus’s happy isn’t Luke’s happy. It isn’t Kieran’s happy, or Mephisto’s happy, or even my happy. It’s his. He’s the only one who can decide what makes him happy, and he’s the only one who can decide if he is or not.”

When Luke’s mask droops—a telltale sign of a pout appearing—you switch tactics. “And maybe it’s not that he doesn’t have friends. Maybe you guys are just enough for him—did you ever think about that?” 

At this, the beak of his mask perks back up, and you know you’ve got him. 

“You think we’re…enough for him?” he asks, a hint of wonder in his voice.

You nod. 

And then you try to ignore the way his hands twitch in excitement, fighting with all you have to keep your giggle from surfacing. 

“That’s…” he clears his throat. “You know what? You’re right, Y/N, my bad. You’re really smart, you know,” Luke responds gruffly, an incriminating wobble in his voice. 

Smiling, you stand up to pat his hooded head. “I know.” 

“Well,” he starts, a new vigor in his steps as he heads toward the door. “I’m gonna go find Kieran. We just got this huge shipment of explosives that w—”

“Nope!” you interrupt. “You’re not getting me in trouble again. The less I know, the better.”

Shrugging, Luke disappears into the hallway, and you shake your head fondly. 

“What a heartwarming conversation,” a deep voice rings out. 

Jumping from shock, you whip your head around. “Sylus?!” you whisper-yell. “How long have you been there?!”

Emerging from the shadows of the bedroom behind you, Sylus strolls toward you, a soft smirk on his face. 

“Just long enough to hear your passionate defense of me,” he quips, wrapping an arm around your waist. “How much is your lawyer fee?”

Embarrassed, you swat his chest, bowing your head slightly. “I know he meant well, but I just…don’t like it when people try to take your life out of your hands,” you admit quietly. “It makes me sad.” 

“Well we can’t have that, can we, kitten?” he rumbles, rubbing his hand up and down your back. “Let me cheer you up—I very much enjoyed hearing you speak up for me.”

Lifting your head up, you look into his warm garnet eyes. “You did?” 

“Mm,” he hums, pulling you closer. “I do hate cheap beer, and you all are enough for me. You know me very well,” he praises, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“But for all your expertise, you were wrong about one thing,” he whispers against you. “My happy is your happy.”

[dabisqueen]

Pornstar!Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x female reader

⇢ word count: roughly 7K

⇢ plot: as a broke student, you sign up for an assistant job at a movie set. It turns out the job is more than you bargained for.

⇢ warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, size kink, pierced big-cock Touya, fingering, cunnilingus (f receiving), multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, overstimulation, exhibitionism (sex in front of other people (movie set)), creampie, sweet aftercare

⇢ personal note: thank you @/blankexpressions-and-falsefires for bring my beta again! As for what you're all about to read – I have no regrets. Virgin kink goes brrr

"College has always been so crucial, such an essential part of what measures a person’s worth and determines their future."

They say college life is quite challenging. That it can help you come to realize your potential, that you learn more about yourself while in it. That the challenges you experience in university help you grow into a mature person in society.

You have several challenges to face. There's the problem that you focus entirely too much on your studies. In some ways, it’s to secure your future and to compensate for your lack of private life. In other ways, it makes you, because of inexperience, too naive for your own good. Or, as your friends have called it: too innocent. You've never had anyone touch you, never been with anyone in that way. Thus, you never get the hint when someone hits on you or finds you attractive. You have excellent grades – but unlike many of your peers, you’re still a virgin. 

Another challenge you are facing is that you aren't wealthy. One semester into your studies, you are closer to the end than you expected. Leaving your landlord's buro, you take a few steps before coming to a halt and close your eyes as if to gain some semblance of composure. You're broke and desperately need money to cover your rent and living expenses. The bank isn't going to give you another loan, and you find yourself on the verge of having to leave college without a family to support your education.

They say you have to fail first to be successful in the future. But you are beyond failing – you are simply screwed. 

You are very aware of your financial predicament. And you loathe having to live day to day on just pennies. To put it short—you are sick of being a broke-ass, loser virgin.

You sigh. 

Giving up is not a choice. So you do the next best thing: grab life by the horns and start looking for a job. Searching under your bed, clothing pockets, and between couch cushions, you scrounge up enough money to get a local newspaper. In its classified ads, only a few offers deem themselves feasible with your busy school schedule: a late-night shift at a local diner, pizza delivery, or a job doing telemarketing. None of those sound too appealing, but there might not be a choice. Then, your gaze stops at an offer that sounds too good. A movie company is looking for a production assistant on a film set; you don't need prior experience, work hours are during the weekends, and pay is double what the other jobs offer.

You don’t think before hastily grabbing your phone, punching in the number, and waiting while the dial tone rings.

After a distinct click over the other line, a man hisses, "Shimura?"

"Uhm, hi. I- I am calling about the assistant job offer. I was wondering—"

"You're hired. Tomorrow at 5 pm," the man at the other end interrupts in an annoyed tone.

He rattles off the address as you fumble around for a pen, hastily writing it down when you find it.

Before you can reply, he finishes with Don't be late and hangs up unceremoniously.

You exhale, realizing you’ve been holding your breath since he started speaking.

What the hell just happened? 

***

The path to the location is littered with brown leaves, and you struggle to keep from slipping as you walk toward the building. The address given to you is an old warehouse on the edge of town. Its monotonous, featureless walls covered in graffiti make it feel abandoned. There are no visible signs that anything is happening inside at all.

As you walk across the parking lot, you start to see small indications of life: fancy cars—far too fancy for this area- and sensual music permeating through the corrugated steel walls. 

You weren’t sure how to dress for a job you knew nothing about, so you opted for blue jeans, a white blouse, and pointy shoes with heels. Your hair is tied into a neat ponytail, and simple smokey eyes complete the look. 

You aim for a large steel door that the cars are all parked close to. As you lift your head, you take in the old brick building you are standing in front of, lined with large casement metal windows. 

There is a single doorbell, no name on it, and you hesitate before inhaling and pressing it with the tip of your finger.

You hear a clicking sound, and then the heavy door swings inwards. 

Alright, here goes nothing.

***

The set is surprisingly professional—like a luxurious bedroom sliced in half. A row of chairs faces the set on a concrete floor behind multiple cameras and some sound equipment, with the crew standing around talking.

The producer, Tenko, as he introduces himself to you–with tufts of pale hair and seemingly chronic dry lips in dire need of some chapstick – explains that your job will consist of helping around the set, distributing beverages, and handing out the script. Simple work you could do. After introducing you to the crew, he hands you a stack of papers, instructing you to pass them out.

Then you see her—the actress. She is gorgeous, dressed in an ivory-colored silk robe. Her hair is the color of the sun. Her skin is flawless and tanned, and her body is perfect- although almost definitely sculpted by a professional surgeon.

"Where the fuck is he?" You hear Tenko grumble, pulling a phone from his pocket, thumb tapping against the screen.

A flurry of activity breaks your concentration. A door flies open, and a man strides through—the leading actor, you gather, from how everyone else suddenly perks up.

"Fucking finally," the pale-haired director groans, tucking his cell back into the pocket of his jacket.

The man's hair is coal-colored, falling in messy strands into his face. His eyes remind you of the bright ocean, almost glowing in the dim light of the set. His sharp lips pull into a wide grin, his canines peeking out. He is casually dressed, wearing a pair of dark, ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, allowing you to notice just how well-toned his arms are. He is handsome, with delicate yet masculine features and sharp angles set in his face. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and his thin lips form a troublesome grin when his eyes meet yours. 

Shit. 

He holds your gaze before dragging his sinfully blue eyes over your figure and looking away again. Your heart skips a beat because even in the low light, you can see that the actor is incredibly hot. Totally your type. You can't help but stare at him, watching how he moves, the way his muscles ripple under the thin fabric of his shirt, the way his thighs bulge in his tight pants. 

Speaking of bulge. 

It's the biggest one you've ever seen, and the sight of it sends a pang straight to your core. Your cheeks heat up automatically. 

Stop it!

You curse inwardly a few times for thinking lewd thoughts on a professional movie set.

But—you can't help it. He just looks too handsome. It stirs something inside of you you've never felt before. You sigh, knowing that this man has already made his way into your dreams, but in the end, they’ll stay just that— dreams. 

Someone like him would never want to lay a hand on you.

As he approaches the stage, the man stops dead in his tracks, staring at the actress with a bored expression. 

“Not her again.” You hear him groan.

The actress snaps her head around, a stunned expression on her face. “Pardon me?”

"The script calls for an innocent girl." The actor deadpans. "No one's gonna believe that with you in the female role."

The actress jumps to her feet. “How dare you talk about me like that!”

Tenko hisses, “Didn't you read the script? You would have known you film with her today, Touya—"

“I told you not to use my real name on set,” he says with a blase, somewhat impatient gaze.

“And I told you not to let out your frustration on the set, Dabi.” The director retorts.

“Frustration caused by your actions.” Dabi deadpans.

You hold your breath as your eyes dart from the director to Dabi and back to the actress. The rest of the crew acts like this is an everyday commotion on the set. 

“This is not a request— I'm not doing the scene with her, " Dabi says, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The actress jumps from her chair, visibly outraged, as her cheeks flare red with anger. “You're such a dick!”

“Yeah, you're right. But I’m the best dick in the industry.” He turns around, a sardonic finality in his tone.

You stare at the scene before you, the forgotten papers clutched tightly to your chest. The blonde woman stares at the dark-haired man, infuriated. 

“So, it's either me—or her.” Dabi addresses Tenko, who isn't even trying to de-escalate the situation. “That's my final say.”

“I can't believe you're doing this to me!" The woman wails exaggeratedly.

"Sweetheart, we need someone who conveys innocence. Not some chick as fake-looking as you," Dabi purrs with false care. “Go carry your plastic off the stage already.”

Tenko scratches his neck in annoyance. He watches as the actress slings an array of profanities at Dabi before storming off with quick strides toward the door, slamming it shut behind her.

The dark-haired man stands at ease, reaching into his pants pocket to retrieve a cigarette, lighting it, and taking a deep drag. “Thank god she's gone. What were you thinking, Tenko?”

“Dabi, she's the most requested—” 

“I don't give a fuck.” he runs a free hand through his dark bangs. “She sucks.”

You listen to them bicker, getting more confused by the second. 

“So—what do you expect me to do now?” Tenko's scratching increases as he starts pacing up and down the set. “Production costs will double if we cut and pick things up on a different day. Not to mention the cost of finding a new replacement.”

He jumps off his chair, pacing around the set. Then he grumbles, “We’ll take a ten-minute break. I need to come up with a solution or else—”

“We need someone Pretty, no makeup, normal clothes.” Dabi suggests, "That won't be too expensive. Someone who looks undefiled, innocent.” Dabi's gaze wanders across the room. “Like a student or something.”

Then he sees you, and a smirk tugs at his lips. His stunning sapphire eyes look you up and down. You swallow hard, your shaking hands almost crumpling the papers in their tight grip.

"Like her." Teal eyes narrow as they focus on you. 

You blink back at him dumbly, the room around you completely silent.

"Me?" You answer, his words catching you off guard.

"Yep. You." Dabi's smirk returns, a playfulness in his eyes. 

The director stares at you with the same baffled expression written on your face. "Her?"

"Yep. Her." His grin widens.

"B-But, I can't!" You counter. " I'm a simple student, not an actress—"

"That's exactly what we need." The twinkle in his eyes is still there, "And you have a pussy, don't you?"

"Yes, I—” You catch yourself, your cheeks flaring hot. “W- What does that even have to do with this movie?"

Suddenly, the room goes alive with murmurs and whispers.

Dabi quirks a brow. "You're telling me you don't know?"

"Don't know what?" You helplessly look around.

The dark-haired man turns to his director, "You didn't tell her?!"

Tenko mumbles something about how you would have found out eventually. 

Dabi steps toward you and crosses his arms in front of his chest. "Doll, this is an adult film set."

"A what?" You dumbly blink at him.

"An adult film set. You know, where people fuck." He leans forward, deep azures sparkling salaciously. "You know how fucking works, don't you?"

"Yes, I mean—in theory?" A heat washes over your face and flushes down your entire body.

"Yes or no. What is it?" Dabi asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

The heat in your face has reached the tip of your ears as you stammer. "It's none of your business."

He steps even closer. "C’mon, sweetheart, tell us."

He smirks, eyes narrowing as he leans closer. He looks at your lips, then back at your eyes. You can smell him with how close he is leaning in. His deep, masculine scent surrounds you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your core. Even though your mind wants to scream at him, to tell him off, you hear a timid voice whisper, "I’ve used my fingers? Maybe some toys?"

It is your voice.

"You're telling me you've never done it with another person?" This time, it is Dabi’s turn to sound baffled as he leans back, taking you in. "That you're a virgin."

"I-I…" You stammer, swallowing dryly.

Looking over his shoulders, he calls over to his director, "It'll break records if we film this. You're aware of that, right?"

"I am." Tenko snaps, scratching at his neck irritably, "You don't need to tell me."

"Ok, then it's a deal.” He nods towards you. “I want her—or I'm leaving."

"You little piece of—" Tenko growls. "That's extortion."

"You won't regret it," Dabi says, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Shouldn’t I have a say on this too?" You ask, but both men ignore your words.

"Ok, it's a deal," Tenko murmurs. "How much do we pay her?"

Dabi turns his gaze back to you. "You need money, right? Or else you wouldn't be here.”

"That’s none of your business."

"C'mon, sweetheart, This is your chance."

“Yes, I mean… " a sound of annoyance bubbles up your throat. "I can't afford my rent anymore, and my landlord will kick me out if I don't pay up soon."

“I sense an opportunity here," Dabi smirks. "Tenko, how much will you pay her if she agrees to do this with me?"

"How much do you want?" Tenko asks you.

“I-I don't know. I've never thought about it." You shyly add.

"Pay her rent plus an allowance," Dabi suggests. "Tenko, you know she's worth it."

"That’s too m—" You swallow hard.

Tenko mumbles disgruntledly: "OK, I'll do it.” 

“You what?" His words leave you stunned.

Dabi interrupts quickly. "What he's saying, sweetheart, is that he'll pay for your rent - if you let me fuck you.”

His lewd words and the deep blue pools of his stunning eyes send a flutter through your stomach. 

“In front of all these people?!" 

“That's what porn is all about, doll.” Dabi chuckles, studying your reaction.

You swallow hard.

"So? What's it gonna be?" He cocks his head, waiting. 

You have always prioritized safety, so common sense tells you to stick to your usual way of life. However, look where common sense has led you: You're almost broke and may need to drop out of college. 

This could be a bad decision. But, it's time to throw safety to the sea.

"OK, I'll do it," you proclaim, and a round of applause and cheers erupt on the set while Dabi nods appreciatively.

“Congratulations, you're hired. Now, get ready before I change my mind.” Tenko waves a hand. “We still have a movie to film here.”

Your heart starts to race, a crushing weight bearing down on your chest. But you know that you have no choice. It's either a free porn loan—or being a forced college dropout. Taking a deep breath, you ball your hands into fists, trying to ignore the signs of panic your body is giving you.

"Okay, everyone, resume positions. And hand her the script.” Tenko moves to his chair, sitting down in it. “Let's do the first take." 

"Hold on," Dabi says. "Why not do it a bit differently this time? No script, no acting— just raw footage. The whole thing.”

“You mean a one-shot film?” Tenko looks surprised. “I suppose that would work. Especially with a new actress.”

“Are you okay with that, doll?” Dabi smiles at you, and there's a warmth in his voice that wasn't there before.

“Do I have a choice?” you sigh.

“Not really.” He winks.

"Are you two lovebirds done flirting over there? " Tenko asks, " Because we're ready to film.”

“We weren't flir—” you protest, but Dabi bridges the distance between you.

"So, sweetheart?" He leans in, his face hovering close, sharing a breath with you. "How are you feeling about being fucked on camera?"

“Nervous.” you bite your lips, your face starting to burn.

"Doll, don't be; just focus on me," he soothes, stroking your cheek. “Forget about everyone else; I'll take care of you.”

He takes your hand and pulls you towards the bedroom set.

“Quiet!” Tenko raises a hand, and complete silence falls over the set as the crew prepares to film you both. 

Tenko calls out a set of commands, which different crew members around the room answer.

“Sound?”

“Set.”

“Camera?”

“Set.”

“Roll sound.”

“Sound rolling.”

“Roll camera.” 

“Camera Speed.” 

“Marker.”

A man with a clapper board enters the scene and calls, "Scene one. Take—uhm— whatever." 

Dabi nods, and that is the cue. The lights dim, and the cameras vanish into the darkness; only the red lights betray their existence. 

You glance around, your stomach in knots, as you realize that this is no game, that this is it. The only thing visibly lit was the bed standing a few feet away. The crew's faces are barely visible as everyone watches you, the man behind the camera tilting it, filming you from bottom to top.

“Hey baby, you alright?” You hear Dabi's voice.

“N-No, not really.” You stammer, your hands trembling, your breathing picking up, as your eyes frantically dart around the dark set. “I don't know if I can do this.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.” You feel a finger hook under your chin when Dabi tilts your head to meet his gaze. It's intense, the turquoise of his irises gleaming almost unnaturally. 

You feel your heart sink into your stomach as his thumb caresses your skin. When he closes the already minimal distance between you, your eyes flutter close in reflex. His lips are sensually warm and addicting against your cheek, and your heart starts thrashing wildly inside your chest in response. Something changes between you, an intimacy blooming as the voices of the people mute.

It's all you need to distract your mind, to make your body heat up. Not with anxiety—

—but in anticipation. 

“Are you ready to give me your virginity?” His low voice rumbles close to your ear.

You nod, like in a haze, every caress of his lips causes your skin to tingle, to burn with passion. He shifts, and you feel him faintly brush your lips, and a zap of electricity courses through your veins. Then, your lips are united in his first tentative kiss. They are so soft, and the way he kisses you is so delicate, almost tender— deliberately slow.

You relax, giving in to how wonderful this feels. His tongue slowly traces the shape of your lips, and you feel your brain short-circuiting. Angling your head to the side, you part your lips, begging him to enter. Dabi reacts instantly, his tongue slipping your mouth, delving deeper, tasting you, consuming you.

You groan—how could a man taste so good?

It makes your knees buckle, and you start panting into his mouth, your instincts taking over, your body reacting to his touch. A desire, a passion, awakens like a wild animal roaring, and you feel a wave of arousal pool in your panties. You can't help it, and you slide your hand underneath his shirt, your other hand circling his neck. You can feel him smirking into the kiss, but the sound carries off into a groan when you rake your nails down the small of his back. 

As he breaks away, a warmth lingers between you and him while he admires your wet, pink, swollen lips, "A little eager for your first time, huh?"

The kiss leaves you dizzy, and you can't seem to form an answer, too stricken by his closeness and intoxicating scent.

The moment passes, and then his lips smash against yours so fast you don't even have time to react. He presses his hips against yours, his clothed hardness grazing against your heat, letting you feel just how hard you’ve made him.

Holy shit.

He's not gentle anymore; he's rough and demanding now. He is taking you, enjoying the shaky gasps that leave your lips. Dabi’s hands trail down your side to find your ass cheeks. He lifts you by the thighs onto his waist skillfully, never breaking the kiss. Carrying you easily toward the bed he releases his hold and you topple onto it, panting heavily.

The lights around you heat the air, and you notice one camera panning across the set while the other tracks toward you on a dolly. Just as your heart starts picking up an anxious speed again, you see a movement to the side. Dabi yanks his shirt above his head, the muscles in his stomach flexing with every movement.

The second the fabric touches the floor, he's on you with his lips pressed to yours and his tongue in your mouth. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment of passion and all you can see is him. Your stomach somersaults and the world around you ceases to exist; it is just you and him— the people around you and the cameras wholly forgotten. The world, right now, only revolves around the two of you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he breathes into your mouth, hazy eyes glowing with arousal. "How do you taste so fucking good?”

You feel his hand sneak underneath your shirt to slowly pull it off over your head. Next, he skillfully removes the rest of your clothes off until you are lying below him, sex and breasts cupped by delicate cotton underwear. 

“Look at that,” he muses. “So innocent.”

Sliding his hand behind your back, he unhooks the bra with an expert pinch of his fingers. Your breasts spill out as he slides the straps off your shoulders, tossing it aside. Then his gaze lingers on your soft, round tits.

“Damn,” he cups them and squeezes them gently, “Where have you been hiding, girl? You're perfect.”

He slides his fingers over your nipples and a low moan tears from your throat. Dabi lets out a low rumble as his hands continue to work your breasts, rubbing and plucking at your stiffening nipples. There’s a deep throb low in your body, pulsing between your thighs, and you're startled at the way you’re reacting. You are so turned on—his touch only adds to your body’s cravings, and as his large palms glide over your breasts; it pulls the breath from your lungs as it simultaneously fuels your desire. His thumbs drag over your nipples again, rolling it between his fingers before leaning down to lick at your pebbled nub. He makes you feel breathless with excitement the more he focuses on toying with your breasts, rolling the tips back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. 

It makes you crazy with need until you're aching, shivering throughout your entire body. You're gasping for breath the entire time Dabi has his lips wrapped around your erect nub, sucking it to send a tingling sensation straight through to your core. Then he's biting just hard enough to make you squeal before soothing the puckered nub with a flick of his tongue.

“You’ve got the most amazing tits,’ Dabi murmurs against your skin. “So soft and full. So natural.”

While he switches from pliant nipple to pliant nipple, you feel a stray hand hook its fingers under the seams of your panties. He releases your nipple with a pop and peppers kisses down to your tummy while he adeptly pulls the little piece of fabric down and off your legs. You're now utterly naked below him while Dabi continues revering your body with wet kisses and nibbles, moving downward until you feel his warm breath on your pubic mound. He spreads your trembling legs, his eyes glazing over your pussy, pupils expanding and then retracting into pin slits.

"Look at that pretty pussy." His breath is hot against your soaked folds. "And so fucking wet—you're dripping."

A shameful sound spills from your lips at his words, and you writhe in his hold. But his hands keep you in place. 

"You're seriously telling me,” he slides his fingers up and down your glistening folds, “No one's been here before?"

You squirm below him as a camera zooms in on where Dabi’s eyes are affixed– between your thighs.

“Cause you have the prettiest pussy I've ever seen.” He snickers. “And I've seen a lot.” 

His warm, calloused fingers slide up and down your slippery folds, his hot breath fanning over your sex. Then he spreads apart your sweet lips; it makes you shudder in anticipation, and Dabi chuckles.

“I can see you twitching for me.” A finger sinks in, making you arch your back the deeper it goes. 

The camera behind him zooms in on your blushing face, and you cover it with trembling hands. 

"Nu-uh, no hiding. Look at me." He slaps your clit lightly—making you jolt. "Let us see your pretty face."

You whimper softly, because you've touched yourself before—

—but this just feels so much more intense.

“Dabi—” you choke out, flinching in pleasure when he slides a hand underneath your ass, 

raising your hips to have more access to you. 

“Relax, baby, I'll take care of you.” A growl tears from his throat, and then he drags his tongue over your gleaming folds, tasting you. 

You cry out, your body shuddering. Over and over, Dabi licks you with deep, claiming strokes, using his tongue to explore every bit of you. 

“Damn, you taste better than anything I've ever tasted.” He pushes his wet muscle into your core, frantic to have more of you. 

“Oh my God. Dabi!” Your toes curl, and your thighs tighten around him. You're both – startled and aroused at his eagerness. Any worries you have are melting away as he drags his tongue over you again and again, making you squirm with need.

A moan escapes your lips– loud, uncontrolled– when his tongue flicks over your folds. When he grazes your little button, you jolt as if you've been stung. 

He hums appreciatively and buries his face into your warmth, seeking out that sweet nub. Your body jerks as he moves his tongue over it, repeating the action when he does it again. You give a little wail, and your hands curl into the fabric the longer he teases. He eagerly works that spot, and you cry out with little choked gasps.

As his tongue circles your clitoris, your sensations spiral out of control. You can feel the tension increasing in your body with a growing urgency to be released. 

“Dabi,” you pant with every flick of his tongue. But he doesn't respond, does not hear– or pretends not to. He buries his face in your folds, hands holding you down by your hips.

With every quiver that moves through your body, with every shiver of response, every tensing of your muscles, you draw closer to the edge.

You writhe against Dabi, with his face between your thighs, lapping at your juices. All the while, he continues to work your little clit with his tongue in slow, steady strokes. 

Suddenly, the feeling that you’re about to cum overwhelms you. Your pussy clenches, dripping with your juices, and your clit is ready to burst.  

Your hips jerk against him, and then a release explodes in your mind, your thoughts crashing all around you. You come with a slight scream that morphs into a moan, but Dabi does not stop his ministrations—

—no.

He continues to lick and suck as you come and come and come.

It's too much; you feel like exploding. You’re a moaning mess, fingers slipping between Dabi’s strands, pushing and pulling at his roots unsure if you can take it if he keeps going like that. 

Your entire body is on fire. The orgasm continues to surge through you– more intense than anything you’ve experienced by yourself– with Dabi gently sucking and licking at your clit. You are delirious, feel like you are floating with no way to find your path back to earth. 

“Dabi, please—” you choke out.

Dabi’s mouth detaches from your overstimulated nub and straightens up, licking your cum’s sweetness off his lips. Crawling on top of you, he gazes into your eyes. “Doll, tell me—what do you want me to do?”

You see his jeans straining from the bulk of his erection and swallow, your body responding with a flood of hormones. 

“Please fuck me,” you whisper, thinking in ways you never have before.

You want to beg him to be gentle, but you can’t seem to form the words when you see him unbuckle his belt before unzipping his jeans, his eyes carefully watching your expression as he does. His cock springs to life, and you swallow thickly. It's enormous—and pierced. 

You feel a momentary pang of doubt, questioning if that monster will even fit inside you. The previous excitement and adrenaline pumping through your veins gradually turn to panic. Your breathing picks up as you stare at his cock, wide-eyed. 

“You look worried,” Dabi says, stroking it with one hand. His raised eyebrows and amused grin tell you he's used to this type of reaction. 

“Are you sure…” you nod towards his cock.

“Trust me,” he says. “I’ll make sure you feel good. It’ll be the greatest thing you'll ever experience.”

Your entire body yearns for his touch, and there’s no way you're saying no now. He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves to hold himself in hand to align his cock with your entrance.  

"Do you want me to fuck you?’ Dabi asks as he drags the head of the tip up and down your slit. 

“‘S not gonna fit,” you whine with a worried expression.

“Don't be scared,” Dabi says, "I know what I'm doing. So, you'll be a good girl and take it all, right?”

“I'm not sure,” you whisper.

“I know you can...” His eyes stare at you with a desire so intense that you almost feel intimidated. 

He’s spreading you wide open, hands on your knees, before he moves one to hold himself and align his cock to your entrance. The pressure between your legs increases as Dabi nudges the pierced tip of his cock against you.

“Get ready,” he whispers.

A mix of a gasp and a cry leaves your lips as Dabi strains against you, feeling like he’s trying to shove a massive pole inside of you. You squeeze your eyes shut as tears gather in your lashes, and Dabi holds back, kissing you, waiting for you to relax.

“Easy,” he says softly, “I’ve got you.” 

The softness of his tone relaxes you and the tension in your shoulders lessens. Then, somehow, something gives way, and he enters you. You gasp, your body opening up to accommodate the massive dick that is now sliding inside of you. 

"Oh my god—” You throw your head back, hands clawing at his shoulders in a weak attempt to push him away.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight,” he hisses, eyebrows furrowing before he hits resistance and then pushes forward.

There’s a sharp pain slicing through your core, and you don't know if it's from the stretch or a tear. Probably both. It hurts, and you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing tears down your cheek. Dabi continues to push his hips forward, only stopping once he’s entirely inside, heavy balls pressed against the crease of your ass. The cameras zoom in on the bulge in your womb, where his dick sits buried deep inside of you. But you don't notice them, your brain too consumed by him filling you up, his whole weight resting against you. 

“You ok?” Breathing heavily, he drags his eyes back and forth over your face. 

“Gimme a sec.” Your lips press into a thin line as the pain from the stretch slowly turns into a dull throb. After a moment, you nod...

"I'm gonna start moving now," Dabi says— and then does precisely that. 

Just as you start to feel your body relaxing, he withdraws, only to plunge himself in again. The sudden shock of the movement is incredible. You feel every ridge, every single thick vein. It feels fantastic, and as he slowly slides back in, you can appreciate every inch of his cock. He starts an even rhythm, rocking inside you gently. 

“Shit, just squeezed me so fucking tight,” he moans in response. "I’m warning you, don't make me lose my composure. You don’t want to see me act up.”

Your mind feels detached from your body; you don't hear him, don't even notice the camera zooming in, focusing on how your face scrunches and your lips quiver because of how good he makes you feel. 

He grabs you by the waist and brings you closer to him. Raising both legs in the air, he pushes them forward until your body is folded in half.

“Oh—shit—” You choke out, the walls of your sex stretching to accommodate him. 

“I’m gonna make you cum,” Dabi is panting hard as he starts driving his cock rapidly in and out of you. “You won't be able to walk for days.”

“I-I can’t—” your jaw slackens as you tighten around his dick again, the ability to form comprehensive answers having left you the moment he breached your walls.

He rams himself deeper while his fingers slip between your strands, guiding your face upward, your mouths colliding in a frantic kiss. 

It starts as a slow burn that gradually builds into a white, blistering heat. A feeling begins coursing through you, making you lose control of your body. You tense and arch your back, your head digging back into the pillow, voice caught in your throat. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, all that tension releases, and you cry out loud, a turbulent wave of pleasure hitting you like a storm. All your nerve endings are seemingly set ablaze while Dabi fucks you through your orgasm. 

His eyes are wide with wonder, hearing and feeling you come undone around him. The way your eyes are shut tightly in pleasure, your entire body trembling and shaking in ecstasy, is the best thing he's ever seen. It makes his chest swell with pride. Still, it feels like it's not enough, though, and he needs more. He wants to own you, possess you, make you his.

Dabi snaps. 

With a suppressed growl, Dabi grabs you by your hips and flips you over onto your stomach. He's not letting you catch your breath before he propels his cock back inside you again. His hand slides from the dip in your spine to the spot between your shoulder blades, pressing down until your face is buried in the sheets. At this angle, he reaches even deeper than before, his piercings rubbing your G-spot just right. Your hands tightly fist the soft duvet with every drive of his hips, knocking the air from your lungs.

Dabi seems delirious, pistoning in and out of you now. Reaching forward, he gathers your hair around his fist, tugging it to keep you in place, forcing your head up from the sheets. You sob out his name, your chin and cheeks covered with your drool and tears. 

But Dabi is drowning too deep in pleasure to notice. 

"I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll never think of anyone but me in your fantasies," Dabi growls while your elbows shake under the pressure of his forceful thrusts.

Slowly, your mind is falling apart with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Dabi starts drilling his big cock into your even faster now. You tremble below him, thighs quivering when you feel another orgasm building up. 

“You gonna cum for me again, princess?” Dabi groans, “I can feel your pussy clenching around me.”

You nod, too exhausted to form any words. Dabi tightens his hold on your hip, fingers digging into your plush skin, holding you still. 

“I’m gonna cum with you,” he tells you. “I’m gonna fill up your tight hole, gonna breed you so good—fuck!”

"Please—" you whimper pathetically, finding yourself trapped in his lewd promises. 

And then you lose it, feeling like the world is disappearing underneath your feet. Pleasure rips through you, leaving you with no strength. It’s an intense tingling pleasure that starts in your core and spreads through your whole body, from your fingertips down to your toes. It's all-consuming and euphoric, your body not knowing what to do with that much sensation at once. 

You feel your body falling off a cliff into a pile of tingling ecstasy as you cum again with a broken whimper escaping your lips. The orgasm is even more potent than the last ones, like a massive burst of pleasure; all that tension explodes and shoots up the back of your legs and everywhere else. You moan and shudder, your pussy clamping around his cock. 

“That’s it,” Dabi lets out a long, shuddering groan. “Just like that.”

You forget to breathe while Dabi keeps fucking your harder and harder, feral with desire, shoving his cock as deep inside you as he can.

“Oh fuck—” You gasp out, arching your back, fingers twisting against the sheets.

No sooner have the words slipped from your lips that you feel your whole body lock tight again—and then unravel. You forget to breathe as an unending cascade of euphoria detonates deep inside of you. You come undone, shaking uncontrollably as juices gush from your pussy, dripping down Dabis balls, drenching the sheets below. 

Dabi groans, his eyes screwing shut, head dropping back. With one final possessive thrust of his hips, he cums, shooting his seed deep inside you. You feel his cock twitch as he moans heavily, eyebrows sewn together. His body is shuddering, his hips hitching while he rides out his orgasm.

You’re faintly aware of your surroundings, buried too deeply in your bliss. Unable to take any more pleasure, you slump backward. Dabi slides his softening cock from you with an obscene wet sound before dropping down onto the bed beside you, taking you with him.

“Fuck…” he breathed out, caressing your skin. “That felt so—”

‘And—cut!’ You hear a voice call, speaking its way into the mush that is your brain, slapping you back to reality.

You open your eyes and look around in shock, having completely forgotten where you are. The lights switch on, almost blindingly bright. People start hustling about the set, and cameras mere inches away from you now pull back into their waiting positions. 

“That was perfect,” you hear Tenko say through the noise filling the set now.

Your breath catches in your throat, an unsettling feeling beginning to well inside you. Your heart starts pounding at an increasingly rapid pace while you feel panic stretch its icy fingers up your spine.

You feel a warm hand cradling your face, angling it to the side. It’s Dabi. He places his mouth over yours without further ado. 

“You are perfect.” Dabi coos into the kiss, and it happens again— butterflies erupt in your gut, the world around you fading until there's only you and him.

Instinctively, you let go, feeling the tension slowly dissipate and your heart calming down. Dabi smiles as he breaks away from you, and you feel it— a lingering warmth, an unseen connection that spins fragile threads between you both.

A man approaches to help you get out of bed, but Dabi, whose face is still dewy with sweat, moves between you both. He takes the bathrobe from the guy and wraps it around your shivering body before getting dressed himself.

Helping you off the bed, he drapes an arm around your shoulder and leads you past the celebrating crew members from the set until you’re backstage. 

Once in the changing room, he closes the door behind him and leans against it. 

“That was something…” he muses. “You’re a natural. Would you ever consider doing this again with me?’ 

You're caught off-guard, his face radiating a tenderness that fills your heart with something joyful. A warmth spreads across your face, your hands gripping the soft belt of your robe as you nip at your lower lip. “I-I don't know.”

“You should,” Dabi kicks off the door frame and saunters over you with a sinful, obscene sway of his hips. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing in a silent agreement, pulling you into a tight embrace. “Think about it…”

He lets the words hang in the air for a second. When he pulls away, his arms wrap around your neck, lower half still pressed against you as if you’re not a stranger. He looks down at you like the two of you have been dating for years.

“So, I was wondering… what are you doing later on?” Dabi kisses the tip of your nose. “Do you want to grab a bite to eat and get some drinks?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” A new desire for him grows inside of you. You smile back at him, reaching up to gently play with his dark hair.

“Maybe?” His lips curl into a devious smirk.

“Is this even allowed?” Chest to chest, your heartbeat slowly catches up to his, as if your bodies react simultaneously to each other's warm touch.

“Maybe?” Dabi repeats, his thumb gently brushing along your lips.

When you look into his eyes, a tenderness softens the rough edges of his sharp features. It makes you wonder, he’s been so sweet and caring after everything that happened today– you actually believe he’s a genuinely sincere and nice guy. You feel your heart quiet when you’re with him, as if you have found peace. 

“Well…” you consider, “I've just thrown all my morals into the wind. So, might as well go on a date with a pornstar, right?”

“You won't regret it.” Dabis laughs softly. “Even though you might not be able to move after I'm done with you—”

“Is that so…” You are torn between scolding him or laughing because he's so cute. “Ok, big boy, whatever you say.”

[suiana]

yandere! childhood friend who still reminisces about your childhood together. yeah, the two of you may be grown now but he's been your day 1 and he just can't help but think about how you used to cling to him and adore him so much! he wishes you'd still do that but it is what it is. no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

yandere! childhood friend who did everything with you. yeah, that also includes practicing kisses. he's your first kiss, and he's never gonna let you forget that. you said you wanted to get better and who is he to refuse? he can't pass up such a prime opportunity! and it's not like he wants anyone else to take it. god no. that would be a tragedy.

"yeah, remember our kissing practices? hah, we were such kids back then!" he watches as you snicker, feeling a warm flush creep up his spine. god, of course he remembers. young and immature as you both were, you both learned together. that's all that really matters to him. "thanks to you, i can now makeout with my partners with ease. you're the best man." and has he told you how muchit infuriates him that you're using your experience to get with others? to please them with the mouth that once touched his? nah, he really can't stand for it. but he isn't allowed to say anything. he's just a childhood friend after all. not for long though.

yandere! childhood friend who wishes he would've accepted your offer to learn how to fuck as well. but no, he just had to be way too delusional back then and tell you to wait for the right one. he must've thought that you'd feel the same and confess then he'd court you slowly before getting to that stage... that never happened unfortunately. not yet at least. he'll make it happen.

yandere! childhood friend who's still a hopeless romantic at heart. a delusional one but a romantic nonetheless. he brings you out on "platonic dates" or whatever the fuck you like to call it, comfort you after your shitty excuse of a partner dumps you, and treats you like the deity that you are. you only deserve the best and he'll be there to provide. none of these losers can't treat you well. he can. he really hopes it'll help you see him as a potential boyfriend!

"i just," you blow your nose, tears streaming down your cheeks as your childhood friend rubs at your back tenderly. "don't know why he'd want to dumo me! we've been going strong for a year already! it's so out of the blue!" yeah, out of the blue huh... not really out of the blue for someone who's been actively theeatening that poor excuse of a man. that menas him, obviously. why he's been threatening him, you ask? because he's not treating you the way you should be treated, duh! sure you look happy but are you really? probably not, he's sure of it. "hey hey, don't worry... I'm here now, aren't i?" he always is, and he always will. you just need to understand that fact and you'll start seeing him in a different light too. don't worry, he has lots of patience. just... don't go sleeping with other people again.

yandere! childhood friend who may or may not be totally super duper mega in love with you. yeah, definitely not in love with you. that would be weird, right? come on, he's your childhood friend! sure you two might've kissed when you were kids and promised to marry one another but those were kiddy promises! that's all they are! he... totally doesn't believe you actually wanna marry him and be his forever and ever.

"so have you started thinking about your future?" he pauses at your question, rubbing at his empty ring finger. future, huh? funny how you ask that when you two are destined to be together at the end of it all. i mean, the two of your promised it as kids, didn't you? sure you're exploring now but at the end if the day, it's him that you come back to, don't you? even if just as a friend. but that's the present, not the future. "nah, not really. just wanna focus on the current moment, y'know?" bullshit, and he knows it. but he doesn't wanna scare you away. not yet at least. you're still out lookign for others which means you haven't come round to the idea of you two together. not to worry, he'll give you a little more time to see how good he is. how good things could be between you two if you just gave him the chance. "i mean, you're here with me." he chuckles, taking your hand in his before placing it on his cheek. you're warm. he likes your warmth, it's so soothing. "that's more than enough for me." half lidded eyes gaze at you, full of emotion and hidden longing before he hums softly. the teo fo you sit in the park in silence, enjoying each other's presence. in the moonlight, everything seems to slow and engulf the two of you in a quiet embrace. he only wishes you would just love him back already. "yeah, I'm glad to be by your side too, best friend." ...he really hates those words. don't worry, good things come to those who wait. and you will be his in due time. you've already had his heart, now all he needs is yours.

[ilovemarvel97]

Craving What We Shouldn’t

Wanda Maximoff x G!P Reader

Summary: Senior year. What could happen? School troubles? Suspended? Or becoming step-sisters with the girl you are in love with?

Word Count: 3,617

Warnings: High school AU, Angst, forbidden romance, step-siblings, reader has a penis, mutual pining, secret relationship, emotionally charged.

A/N: I just wondered how step-siblings would be if they fall in love before becoming siblings. Please do not interact if you don't like the topic.

Main Masterlist

---

The last place Y/N wanted to be on the first day of senior year was standing in front of a brand new front door with a suitcase and a forced smile. Her mom had been glowing with happiness ever since she married Oleg Maximoff over the summer. A second chance at love, she called it.

For Y/N, it felt like a cruel twist of fate.

Because on the other side of that door was Wanda Maximoff. The girl who stole her heart during junior year. The girl who kissed her once at a party before summer and never talked about it again. The girl who used to sneak glances at her across the library table, who blushed when their hands brushed.

Now they shared a house. A bathroom. A last name.

And none of it changed how Y/N felt.

“Come on,” her mom said with a light laugh, nudging her shoulder. “You’ll love it. Wanda’s been asking when you'd arrive.”

That made Y/N’s stomach tighten.

She stepped into the house. The air smelled like rosemary and floor polish. A few family photos had already gone up on the walls��her mom with Oleg, Wanda with Pietro, one of all of them awkwardly posed at the wedding.

Then—“Hey.”

Y/N froze. Her head turned slowly toward the stairs.

Wanda stood halfway down, her red hair pulled into a lazy ponytail, a soft sweater hanging off her shoulder. Barefoot. No makeup. Just her. And she was looking at Y/N like nothing had changed.

Like everything had changed.

“Hi,” Y/N said, her voice caught somewhere between casual and breathless.

They stared at each other. Too long for step-sisters. Too long for ex-almost-somethings. Just long enough for the air to thicken.

Wanda broke the moment with a quick smile. “Your room’s next to mine.”

“Of course it is,” Y/N muttered under her breath.

That night, lying in bed with the walls too thin and Wanda’s music playing faintly through them, Y/N stared at the ceiling.

She’d spent months trying to forget her.

Now she was going to see her every morning. Every night. Every hallway at school.

She couldn’t want her anymore.

She already did.

---

Y/N didn’t even make it through her first morning coffee before things got awkward.

She stepped into the kitchen still half-asleep, only to find Wanda already there in her cheer uniform—leaning against the counter, sipping orange juice, acting like nothing was wrong. Like she hadn’t once kissed Y/N in the hallway after finals. Like she hadn’t ghosted her all summer. Like they hadn’t suddenly become family.

“Want toast?” Wanda asked without looking up.

Y/N grabbed the mug waiting for her on the table. “I’ll live.”

Wanda glanced at her then. Briefly. But long enough.

There it was again. That electric pull. That heat just beneath the surface.

Y/N took a long sip of coffee to distract herself. She didn’t look at Wanda again.

---

At school, nothing had changed—and everything had.

Wanda slipped into her role like a second skin: queen bee of the cheer squad, top of her AP classes, adored by teachers and untouchable by everyone else. She walked the hall like she owned it. Beside her were Monica and Pepper, as always. Pietro waved from across the lockers, grinning at both of them.

Y/N moved differently. Not a loser, not a nerd—just a little outside the lines. She wore her usual cargo pants and hoodie, skateboard slung through the strap of her bag, earbuds in, always just out of reach.

Except now people were talking.

“Didn’t you hear?” someone whispered by the lockers. “Maximoff’s got a new stepsister.”

“She’s kind of hot, right?”

“Wait—is that the girl who punched Steve Rogers sophomore year?”

“No way. I thought she was expelled for that.”

Y/N smirked. She wasn’t. She just hated how Steve talked to Bruce that day.

But the whispers didn’t stop when she passed Wanda in the hallway.

If anything, they got worse.

“Do you think they knew each other before the wedding?”

Wanda’s eyes flickered to her. Brief. Loaded. But she didn’t say anything. She just laughed along with her friends, like nothing was wrong.

Y/N looked away.

---

Lunch was the worst part.

She’d barely sat down at her usual table—Nat, Carol, and Clint already mid-convo about the upcoming school trip—when a tray slammed down across from her.

Wanda.

“What are you doing?” Y/N asked, half-whispered, half-panicked.

“Eating,” Wanda said coolly. “We live together now, remember?”

Nat raised an eyebrow. Carol looked like she smelled drama. Clint was just frozen mid-chew.

Wanda took a bite of her apple and looked right at Y/N when she said it:

“Besides… family should sit together.”

Y/N choked on her drink.

Nat reached over and thumped her back with a smirk. “You alright there?”

Y/N nodded, eyes burning.

Wanda smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.

Y/N hated her for that.

And wanted her anyway.

---

Y/N found her in the hallway after seventh period.

Wanda had just slipped out of AP Lit, a stack of books in her arms and her signature bored-but-beautiful expression on. The hallway was nearly empty—just the occasional echo of locker doors slamming and chatter from other classrooms.

Y/N caught up fast. Too fast.

“Hey,” she said, grabbing Wanda’s arm gently. “We need to talk.”

Wanda didn’t flinch. “We’re talking.”

“Not here,” Y/N hissed. “Come on.”

Wanda rolled her eyes but followed, heels clicking as Y/N led her around the corner to the empty back stairwell. The one nobody used anymore except for cutting class or making out. Fitting.

Y/N dropped her bag and crossed her arms. “What the hell was that at lunch?”

Wanda leaned against the railing like she wasn’t cornered. Like this was a game. “Lunch?”

Y/N stepped closer. “Don’t play dumb. Sitting with me. Calling me family in front of *everyone*.”

Wanda shrugged. “That’s what we are now, aren’t we? You and me. One big happy—”

“Don’t,” Y/N cut in, voice low and sharp. “Don’t pretend this is normal.”

Wanda looked at her then. The sarcasm slipped for a second. Just a second.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” she asked, quieter now. “That I regret it? That I wish we’d never…?”

Y/N swallowed. “I want you to be honest. For once.”

Wanda stepped forward, suddenly too close. Her voice dropped.

“Fine. You want honesty?” Her eyes searched Y/N’s. “I think about that kiss every night.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

“I think about what would’ve happened if my dad hadn’t proposed to your mom. If we weren’t stuck under the same roof, pretending nothing ever happened.”

Wanda’s fingers brushed her wrist. “But we are. And now I have to sit at breakfast with you across from me, wearing that stupid hoodie, acting like you don’t feel it too.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “I do feel it.”

Silence. Their eyes locked.

“Then why are you mad at me?” Wanda asked, softer now.

Y/N looked away. “Because you ghosted me after that kiss. And now you sit with me at lunch like nothing’s wrong. Like *you* get to decide when it matters.”

Wanda blinked. Guilt flickered.

“I was scared,” she admitted.

Y/N turned back to her. “So am I.”

A long pause.

“I shouldn’t want you,” Y/N whispered.

“I know,” Wanda said, barely audible. “But I do.”

And for a moment, the world tilted.

But neither moved. Neither kissed.

Because wanting each other was easy.  

Living with it—that was the hard part.

---

Dinner was quiet.

Too quiet.

Oleg was rambling about his new teaching position, and Y/N’s mom nodded politely at every word, stealing glances toward the teens at opposite ends of the table.

Wanda picked at her mashed potatoes like they offended her. Y/N kept her eyes on her plate and said nothing at all.

They hadn’t spoken since the stairwell.

Not at school. Not on the walk home. Not even when Wanda brushed past her at the front door, close enough for her perfume to linger.

“I’m glad you girls are getting along,” Oleg said with a smile, breaking the silence. “High school’s tough enough without family drama, right?”

Wanda’s fork froze mid-air.

Y/N gave a small, hollow laugh and shoved another bite in her mouth.

---

Later, Y/N stood in the upstairs hallway, toothbrush dangling from her mouth, staring at Wanda’s bedroom door.

It was cracked open.

She should’ve kept walking. Should’ve gone into her room, shut the door, put headphones in, and pretended everything was normal.

Instead, she knocked.

Softly.

“Yeah?” came Wanda’s voice from inside.

Y/N stepped in.

Wanda was curled up on her bed in an oversized sweater, hair wet from a recent shower, legs tucked under a blanket. She wasn’t reading. She wasn’t watching anything. Just… sitting there. Waiting.

Y/N stayed near the door.

“You okay?” she asked.

Wanda looked at her with those deep, unreadable eyes. “You’re asking me that now?”

Y/N sighed. “I didn’t mean to come at you so hard earlier.”

“No, you were right,” Wanda said, her voice quieter now. “I shut you out. I didn’t know what to do with what happened between us.”

“And now?” Y/N asked.

Wanda hesitated. “Now I want to pretend we’re just two girls in the same school again. Before the wedding. Before all this.”

Y/N gave a small, tired smile. “We can’t go back.”

“I know.”

A silence stretched between them. The hallway light behind Y/N cast her shadow across Wanda’s carpet.

“I think about it too,” Y/N said finally. “That kiss.”

Wanda looked at her like she was holding her breath.

“I never stopped wanting you,” Y/N confessed. “Even when it got complicated. Even when it got impossible.”

They stared at each other. That familiar pull crackled in the air between them.

But neither moved.

Because outside that room was a hallway. And down the hallway were their parents. And in that house, they weren’t just Y/N and Wanda anymore.

They were stepsisters.

“Goodnight,” Y/N whispered.

Wanda’s voice was barely a whisper. “Goodnight.”

And as the door clicked shut, both of them lay awake, two doors apart, craving something they couldn’t have.

Not anymore.

---

The days that followed were unbearable.

They barely spoke. Barely made eye contact. But the tension followed them like a shadow—thick in the air during breakfast, suffocating during car rides, lingering in the spaces where their shoulders nearly touched but never quite did.

At school, they played their roles. Wanda smiled in the hallways and laughed with her friends. Y/N kept her head down, skated to class, joked with Nat and Carol like she wasn’t constantly glancing toward red hair in the crowd.

But the truth followed them home every day.

In the quiet. In the in-between.

And eventually, it had to break.

---

It was late.

The house was dark. Everyone else asleep. Wanda padded into the kitchen in an old t-shirt, hoping for water. She didn’t expect to find Y/N already there, back turned, staring out the window with a glass in her hand.

Wanda froze.

Y/N didn’t turn around. Just said, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Wanda said, voice barely a breath. “You?”

Y/N shook her head. Silence stretched again. Familiar. Heavy.

Then—

“This is killing me,” Wanda whispered. “Pretending like we’re not… something.”

Y/N turned then. Slowly. Her eyes tired. Sad. And so full of everything Wanda felt too.

“It’s killing me too,” she said. “But what are we supposed to do, Wanda? Risk tearing our parents apart because we can’t stay away from each other?”

Wanda looked down.

“I don’t want to hurt them,” she said.

“Neither do I.”

“I want to choose you,” Wanda said quietly. “But if I do, it won’t just be us who gets hurt.”

Y/N stepped closer. “So what? We ignore it? We bury this and pretend we don’t want each other?”

“We already are,” Wanda said with a bitter smile. “And it’s tearing me apart.”

Y/N reached out without thinking. Her fingers brushed Wanda’s, desperate for something—anything—to hold onto.

And for a moment, Wanda let her.

They stood there, trembling, their hands barely touching, eyes locked in silent agony.

“I wish we met in another life,” Wanda whispered. “Where you weren’t my stepsister. Where we didn’t have to pretend.”

“I know,” Y/N said, voice cracking. “But this is the life we got.”

Wanda nodded, tears clinging to her lashes.

Then, slowly, she pulled her hand away.

“We have to stop,” she said, though it broke her to say it. “We have to try.”

Y/N blinked fast, nodding. “Yeah. We do.”

But neither moved. Not yet.

Because even when they tried to be strong, tried to do the right thing, the ache was still there. Unrelenting.

---

One Week Later

By the end of the first week, everything looked perfect from the outside.

Y/N and Wanda passed each other in the halls with polite nods. They shared the bathroom like normal siblings. They even managed to help set the table together without saying a word too sharp or too soft.

To their parents, it looked like the girls were settling in just fine.

But every moment felt like walking a tightrope.

Every brush of fingers when reaching for the same spoon. Every second of accidental eye contact. Every laugh they weren’t supposed to share, every memory they weren’t supposed to have.

It was unbearable.

Y/N stopped eating breakfast in the kitchen.

Wanda started walking to school with Monica instead of waiting for Y/N on the porch.

They both told themselves it was better this way.

They were lying.

---

One Night

It was late.

Everyone was asleep. The house was quiet, the kind of quiet that rang in your ears.

Y/N was wide awake, staring at her ceiling, heart pounding like it always did lately—tight and restless. She couldn’t stop thinking about Wanda’s bare legs under oversized sweaters, the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating, or how she laughed—*really* laughed—when she let herself forget the rules.

And then there was the memory she couldn’t outrun: that kiss. Hot. Breathless. Full of promise.

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut.

She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow.

The hallway creaked.

Her bedroom door cracked open.

Y/N bolted upright.

Wanda stood there in the dark, wrapped in a blanket, her eyes shining in the dim light.

“I can’t sleep,” she whispered.

Y/N’s voice was hoarse. “Then don’t be here.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Wanda stepped inside and closed the door softly behind her.

She didn’t climb onto the bed. She didn’t touch her. She just sat on the floor against the wall, wrapping her arms around her knees, like she was trying to ground herself.

“I thought I could do this,” Wanda whispered. “Pretend. Keep you at a distance. But I see you every day, and it’s like I’m starving.”

Y/N swallowed thickly. “You think I don’t feel that too?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Wanda said. “They’re so happy. Our parents. I don’t want to ruin that. I can’t.”

Y/N pushed her fingers through her hair. “So what are we supposed to do? Torture ourselves?”

Wanda looked up at her. “We have to try.”

And for a while, they just sat there. Quiet. Wanting.

Eventually, Wanda stood and left.

Y/N didn’t sleep at all.

---

The Next Day

At school, they avoided each other like it was a sport. But their friends noticed.

Pepper leaned into Wanda’s side at lunch. “You okay? You’ve been off all week.”

“I’m fine,” Wanda said too quickly, stabbing at her salad.

Across the room, Carol gave Y/N a sideways look. “You know if you keep bottling stuff up, you’re gonna explode, right?”

Y/N didn’t respond. She just tossed a grape into her mouth and stared at nothing.

Because Wanda was sitting with Monica. Laughing. But not really.

And Y/N hated that she could tell.

---

Two Weeks Later

It happened on a Sunday.

The house was quiet. Oleg and Y/N’s mom were out at some local art exhibit. Pietro was at a friend’s. The storm outside had knocked out the power.

Wanda lit candles in the living room, wrapped herself in a blanket, and put on an old record player Oleg had dug out of the attic.

Y/N wandered in after hearing the music, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“I didn’t think you liked Fleetwood Mac,” she said.

Wanda shrugged. “Didn’t think you paid attention.”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to you,” Y/N said before she could stop herself.

Wanda froze.

The thunder cracked in the distance. The song shifted to Landslide.

Neither of them moved.

“I miss you,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N stepped forward, every breath shaky. “I never stopped missing you.”

Wanda looked up, her eyes wet. “We can’t.”

“I know.”

Their fingers touched. Just barely.

Wanda shook her head, trying to breathe. “You make it so hard to be good.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “Then maybe we stop pretending to be.”

For one breathless second, it was all too close.

Wanda leaned in—so close their noses brushed.

But she stopped.

She stepped back.

“We can’t,” she said, voice trembling.

Y/N nodded, her heart breaking again. “I know.”

But neither walked away.

And that was the scariest part.

---

They were picture-perfect again.

Wanda helped her mom cook. Y/N helped Oleg in the garage. They all sat down for dinner like a Hallmark ad.

At school, Y/N and Wanda didn’t walk together, didn’t eat together, didn’t exist in each other’s orbits if they could help it.

But Y/N was always watching.

That’s how she saw it happen.

Some tall junior with too much gel in his hair cornered Wanda by the vending machine. He was smiling like he was confident and clueless. Wanda laughed politely, brushing her hair behind her ear. Classic deflection.

Y/N clenched her fists.

It meant nothing. She knew that. Wanda wasn’t into him. Wanda never even looked at anyone else.

But that didn’t matter when the jealousy hit like poison in her veins.

When the guy leaned in a little too close, Y/N saw red.

---

That Night

Wanda barely had time to set her bag down before she realized something was off.

Y/N didn’t greet her.

Didn’t glance up from the couch.

Didn’t even flinch when their mom said, “Girls, want to pick a movie for tonight?”

“I’m tired,” Y/N said. “Not in the mood.”

That wasn’t like her.

Wanda frowned but said nothing.

Later, she knocked on Y/N’s bedroom door.

No answer.

She opened it anyway.

“You’re ignoring me,” she said flatly.

Y/N sat at her desk, scribbling something into her sketchpad like it was life or death.

“Go away, Wanda.”

Wanda stepped inside anyway. “What the hell did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything,” Y/N snapped, still not looking at her.

Wanda’s jaw tightened. “Then why are you acting like I don’t exist? You’re not even pretending anymore.”

“I can’t pretend anymore!”

That made Wanda freeze.

Y/N stood up abruptly. Her eyes were wild—pained.

“I’m in love with you, Wanda,” she said, voice cracking. “I’ve been trying not to be. I’ve been trying to be good, for our parents, for you. But I can’t watch you let some random guy flirt with you. I can’t watch you and pretend it doesn’t kill me.”

Wanda blinked. “Y/N—”

“You laughed at something he said.”

“It was small talk! I didn’t even like him—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N said, softer now. “Because I’m the only one who can’t have you.”

Wanda’s eyes were filling with tears. “You think this is easy for me? You think I’m not dying inside every time I have to act like you’re just my step-sister?”

Silence stretched between them like a live wire.

“I want you too,” Wanda whispered.

Y/N looked at her like she didn’t believe it.

“I never stopped,” Wanda said. “I’m just… scared. We’re not supposed to feel this.”

Y/N’s voice cracked. “But we do.”

And that was the truth.

The silence between them was heavy. Breathing was hard.

Wanda’s words hung in the air like something sacred and dangerous all at once.

“I want you too.”

Y/N stepped closer before she could stop herself, eyes searching Wanda’s face for any hesitation. There was fear there, yes—but it was tangled with longing. Raw and open.

Wanda didn’t move.

Didn’t pull back.

Didn’t blink.

Y/N’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Then kiss me.”

And just like that, Wanda did.

She surged forward, hands fisting into Y/N’s shirt, pulling her down, up, into her—like she didn’t know where she began and where Y/N ended. Y/N’s arms went around her instantly, holding her like she’d been waiting for this exact moment her whole life.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss.

It was desperate. Messy. Hungry.

A crash of emotion too long suppressed.

Wanda whimpered against her mouth, and that broke something inside Y/N. She backed Wanda into the wall, their bodies pressed tight, lips moving fast, like they were making up for all the times they pretended they didn’t want this.

Didn’t need this.

But they did.

God, they did.

Wanda gasped when Y/N’s hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing just under her eye like she was fragile and precious. “I don’t care if it’s wrong,” Y/N said between kisses. “I just want you.”

Wanda nodded, breathless. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

They kissed again, slower this time. Softer. Like a promise.

They stayed like that until they heard footsteps outside in the hallway.

Wanda stiffened.

Y/N pulled back, resting her forehead against hers.

Back to reality.

Back to hiding.

But now, they couldn’t go back to what they were before.

Something had shifted.

And it was too big to ignore.

---

Does anyone want to see part 2 😁

[writingouthere]

singlemom!reader x neighbor!sukuna. you miss having a baby and Sukuna is dying from a combination of your sexual tension, his lowkey(highkey) baby fever and the drudgery of attending a child's birthday party

cw: Sukuna's breeding kink, red flags are present and accounted for, no one gets laid tho so sad face. this actually ended up being way more sincere and heartfelt than I intended but honestly very typical of me

"Oh we're not together, Sukuna's just been letting me and Bug crash while we look for an apartment."

"Oh he's not my boyfriend, we're just friends!"

"He's actually not Bug's dad. No, no. But, they get along really well. She enjoys having someone else to hang out with aside from me, I think."

Your laughter after the last one plays on repeat as he goes to grab the two of you some refreshments. Sukuna feels like he's living the world's worst version of groundhog day, except instead of being some sad loser who relives the same day over and over, he's apparently a sad loser who is going to live the same conversation over and over again.

"Fuck this shit."

"Um, excuse me but could you watch your language. This is a kid's birthday party." Sukuna wants to ask the bitch who is correcting a grown man's language if he would mind watching his own fucking business but you seem to care about what these losers think and he won't make life difficult for you.

If he happens to step on the guy's foot as he leaves with two cups and a juice box caught in his elbow, well, his steel toed boots need the exercise.

Sukuna knew that if any of his acquaintances, he didn't have friends after all, could see him now, they would die laughing. Die ,because he would kill them for laughing, but fuck he couldn't even really blame them, even in his hypothetical.

Once upon a time, Sukuna was a feared criminal. People pissed themselves when he cornered them in a dark alley. Other bad guys would look at him and say, "wow that guy's a real piece of shit" and now look at him. Stuck at some three year old's birthday party. One more kidzpop butchering of an already shitty song away from committing another felony.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he knew he was at least getting some pussy out of it, but he had just spent the past two hours hearing you deny him to anyone who asked and it was really starting to get to him.

He knew he was being a little bitch about it, and he wasn't upset just because you weren't fucking him. He was upset that all the things you were telling people, they were technically true. He was just letting you and your daughter crash. He was just your friend, not your boyfriend. Even the comments about him not being Bug's dad, but him being positioned as some kind of really invested babysitter, those might have stung more than the ones about your relationship but you thought that was true too.

Thinking about the kid made him look for her, not that Sukuna ever wasn't aware of where you and your daughter were. It had become instinct before he was even aware of it.

Bug was laughing with some kids he recognized from daycare and others from their regular trips to the park. Her happiness was contagious and Sukuna found his lips twitching up at the ends despite his shitty mood.

Your daughter's eyes found him from across the playground. "kuna!" she called, waving her little hand at him. He waved back with his available hand and made his way towards her. She met him halfway, her little legs unsteady on the wood chips but she didn't seem to notice. She was always like that when she saw him, she ran fearlessly. Maybe she just trusted he'd catch her.

Was it so wrong of him that he didn't like the reminders she wasn't his. That it stung, not just because of his feelings but because it just couldn't be true. He might not have fathered her, but fuck anyone who said this little girl wasn't his.

"I got you a juice, you've been running around so much you gotta be thirsty."

"Not thirsty," Bug argued leaning into him. He held up his hands that were holding the grown up drinks for the two of you, and moved the package still lodged in the crease of his elbow towards the petulant toddler. "Take it, or I'll drink it."

Bug stuck her tongue out at him and grabbed it. She struggled to get the wrapping off the straw and Sukuna didn't even notice what he was doing until she had the straw stretched out towards him and he was pulling the wrapper off with his teeth. He spit it out on the ground as your daughter gave him a polite thank-you and then walked away, sipping her juice as she went to catch up with her friends.

What had become of him?

"Need a hand?" You smile at him and Sukuna hands over your cup before taking a sip of his own. There was unfortunately no alcohol in it but drinking it occupied his mouth before he acted like a pussy and asked you, "what are we?" or "should we get married?" or something equally as pathetic.

"God, I want a baby."

Sukuna almost spit out his drink but he manages to tone it down to just a little cough before turning to look at you. You don't even seem a little embarrassed which is just infuriating. Sukuna's about to make a suggestion on how he can help with that when you sigh and point to where some loser is holding their ugly baby.

"Aren't babies just the cutest, I miss when Bug was that age."

Oh, so this was just you looking at other people's red-faced brats and feeling nostalgic and was not in fact a call to action. Sukuna rolled his eyes and leaned back on the hand closest to you so he didn't touch you as he was so tempted to do these days.

"That baby, like all babies, is hideous. All they do is cry, shit themselves and vomit and I'm not even sure Bug is the exception to that and she's the best kid there is."

You look touched at his affection for your daughter but also fired up on behalf of babies everywhere.

"You can't just say a baby is hideous, Sukuna. Those are the Zenin's. Bug is friends with some of them."

"Well are the older ones cuter, because that baby looks like someone fucked one of those hairless cats."

"Sukuna!" you hiss but he sees you smile, despite yourself. "Okay, maybe that baby isn't like the cutest baby-"

"Hideous."

You continue after smacking his arm. "But Bug was cute, okay. And I'm not just saying that because I'm her mom." You take out your phone and quickly swipe until you get to what you're looking for. "See, cute baby."

Sukuna grabs your phone and looks. It's not the first picture he's seen of a young Bug and he's taken his share of photos of her himself, but he finds himself taken in by it anyway.

It has to be a picture from when Bug was really young, she still had the scrunched up, red face that he associates with newborns. But he thinks you're right, she's still cute. He doesn't know if it's because he knows that baby will grow up to be your daughter, but he finds his thumb caressing her little baby cheeks, the wisps of hair he can see peaking out from where she's wrapped in a baby blanket. It's then he sees she's not alone in the picture and there's a different version of you holding her.

The thing that stands out to him is how tired you look. He thinks this couldn't have been too long after you gave birth but still, he wondered if you'd gotten any rest those first few months. You still didn't like talking about your ex, or the circumstances that had led you to his apartment, but Sukuna knew that chances are you were taking care of Bug single handedly and that couldn't have been easy, cutest kid or not.

"She was beautiful, she still is." He reluctantly hands the phone back to you and you look at the picture again, tears building up in your eyes.

"She is the best thing that has ever happened to me. I-I wish that the circumstances were different in how I got her. Sometimes, I wonder how I'll explain everything to her when she's older. She just deserves so much better than him, you know?"

"You both do." Sukuna reaches over and brushes away one of the tears that had managed to fall down your cheek. He leaves his hand there a moment, holding your cheek in his palm, just appreciating the warmth.

"Do you want any?"

"What?" Sukuna isn't sure what you're talking about anymore. He can only see your lips right in front of him, the way that your eyelashes brush against your cheek as you blink faster and faster.

"Babies, do you want any?"

Something short circuits in Sukuna's brain and he wants to say, fuck yes.

He wants to tell you that he thinks about it every day. Every time you put Bug on your hip or send him youtube videos of hairstyles you want to try on her. Whenever it's late at night, and little feet pad out of your room and Bug asks him in the loudest whisper he's ever heard, if he can get her some water because she's so thirsty.

He thinks about it when the sun streams through the curtains of his apartment in the morning and it lights up your hair as you move throughout the kitchen, a force of nature, a creature from somewhere far too good to have ended up here with him.

He thinks about it when the three of you go out and people just assume you're a family, because of course you're a family. When you and Bug play some made up game, or Bug gets tired even though she denies it and he carries her sleeping form against his chest. When he holds her in his lap on the subway and you lean to rest your head on his shoulder and he feels like this, this is what he's always wanted.

He's not all pure and good though, because he thinks about it late at night in his bedroom too. After a day of your smiles, of seeing your thighs stretch out of those sleep shorts you started wearing when the weather warmed up, whenever he remembers the feel and smell of your panties when he's lucky enough to find a pair in the laundry basket, he thinks about how the two of you would make some really cute fucking babies.

He's imagined it a million ways. He's imagined you telling him you've gone off your birth control and you need him now after he takes you out on an anniversary dinner. Or him crowding you up against the kitchen counter and you begging him to put a baby in you.

His favorite fantasy is currently one where you get so carried away when you finally finally fuck that you don't ask him to wear a condom and he spends the whole night making sure you're nice and good and full of him and when you tell him a few weeks later you missed your period, he'll let you freak out. But then he'll tell you that he'll take good care of you, and Bug, and your soon to be little one and he'll finally have you, all of you and once you have your second, he'll knock you up again, as many times as he can because there could never be too many mini-you's running around.

At this point, Sukuna remembers he's talking to you, the real you and he swallows a few times before he speaks.

"I do," he says simply but something must show on his face because you're looking at him in a way you never have before. He hears your breath hitch and he leans in to kiss you, and you smell so good and his thoughts are consumed by the little family he just knows you're going to have when suddenly he's pelted by a variety of sharp, little objects.

Sukuna immediately holds up his arm to shield you from what he now sees is a barrage of wood chips which are being thrown at you by an army of toddlers, including your daughter.

You immediately get up and start talking to the kids about the danger of throwing what are basically large future splinters at people's faces and Sukuna is contemplating the murder of every child that isn't his own when you turn to look at him.

You're not just looking at him, you're seeing him and oh. Maybe he would be getting laid tonight, after all.

The slow burn is almost done folks.

thank you to the amazing reception to this series and the one-shot I posted(which there will be a prequel of soon!). it's literally so insane. Masterlist will be up tomorrow which I hope helps with accessibility!

edit: masterlist is up!

[kkusuka]

childhood friend touya! who would play the long game for you.

he can remember the day he first met you- the first day of second grade, your family had moved into the suburbs from some small town in the mountains- and he swears it was fate.

you adopt him as a friend two weeks later on the playground because he agreed to pretend to be a knight protecting you from bandits (your classmates) in the forest (the three trees next to the swing set). all he knows is that after that he made sure you always had a playmate.

then you're in junior high and he sits next to you in class. years of being friends leads him to notes in class, riddled with doodles drawn in glittery pens- even some horrid drawings of him that he kept in his bedside drawer. he even gives drawing a chance one day in math, you keep the doodle he draws (two details stick figures with your names beneath their feet) on your phone case until you drop your phone in a river on new years. you don't even tell him when it happens, too ashamed to have destroyed something so special to you. but it's all ok because he draws a new, more detailed, drawing of the two of you. you keep that one taped to your mirror.

then there was high school, you little friendship expanded, only slightly- but as far as touya was concerned, he was yours. it was a terrible revelation to have in the middle of an algebra test, especially when he has to see you in a gym uniform in less than 20 minutes. and it's even worse because he knows that other people know- his mom suddenly saying that sleepovers have to be in the living room instead of in his room, that tenko kid always joked about how touya looked like an idiot every time you walked by, and his goddamned sister. god fuyumi just knew things about him and he hated it.

and he hated you- he didn't, god he could never.  but it's easier to say that than whatever he did feel. and he acted like he hates you, for about two weeks, they you came to him long after school ended to ask if he didn't want to be friends anymore and that you understood if he didn't want to be around you anymore. and that was it.

touya didn't hate you, he made sure you knew that. but he was never going to tell you that he loved you. just having you near him was enough, he couldn’t risk losing what little of you he had.

then there was college, and that stupid fucking boyfriend. it didn't matter, if you wanted to date some freak loser who's majoring in accounting but failed calculus, and who gambles on every football game, and who drinks himself into oblivion three days a week then you could. as long as you would always help him dye his hair on the first saturday of the month or during you designated movie nights; as long as you were with him it didn't matter who else you had on the side.

you were his, no shitty boyfriend could take that away. and they hated that, every boyfriend you had over those four years and touya loved it. yeah, you do chose him every time, what were they gonna do about it?

he's the one you cling too when you get a little too drunk at a party, he's the one you call after class to complain about the guy who just needs to argue everything you say, he's the one you tell about how awful every other guy is in bed (god he wants to ask if you want him to show you what a real man is like in bed but even he can read a room). and he fucking revels in it.

and he continues to revel until you 'swear off boys' after graduation. it's probably the best day of his life up to date, beating out when he convinced you to share an apartment as you search for jobs. and touya knows he shot himself in the foot (more like the dick) with this move. he's known you since childhood, he knows everything there is to know about you- but he's never had to live with you.

he's never had to smell your perfume, or shampoo, or bodywash every second of the day before. he's used to being on facetime while you decide what to wear for the day, not you changing right in front of him. and by the time he gets back from the shop, you're already home and cooking dinner for the two of you (like you're his wife waiting for him to come home every night).

and he really tries to act normal about it, it would destroy him to ruin your friendship while you live together.

so he keeps up with movie night (and lets you cuddle into him for hours on end, then you'll ask him how the movie was and he won't know because all he could think about was not popping a boner) and going with you to the weekend markets (he hold your hand so you don't get swept away by the crowd, and when you want to sit down and eat he throws his arms over the back of your seat like a possessive boyfriend) and he lets you fall asleep in his bed after hours of talking (and he likes to pretend it's like this every night, you in his bed where he can just sit and enjoy how good he feels in your presence).

and he is content with it- if this is all of you that he'll ever have then he'll relish in every moment you give him.

but fuck, there's only so much a man in love can take.

you very rarely convince touya to go out with you and your friends, but when you do you go all out. you're in his favorite minidress- the blue and black one that hugs your waist and rides up your thighs and shows the curve of your ass- and you pick out an outfit for him that matches if he stands directly in the LED lights of the club.

by the third bar you end up at, he decides to hunker down in a booth and watch your drink as you move to the dancefloor. he likes watching you dance, swinging your hips and lip-syncing the lyrics to him from across the room, but it’s evident that he isn't the only one watching. it takes one fucking actually going up to you for touya's patience to snap.

neither of you are that drunk, so the tension in the back of the uber is palpable. his hands haven't left your body since he stormed down to the dancefloor.

once you're out of the car, you only get halfway through the door before he's peeling his shirt off and pulling the bottom of your dress. his body presses yours against the wood, "you think this shit is funny? making me watch a bunch of guys think they have a chance with you."

"touya, wha-" you barely get the words out as one hand moves between your thighs, pressing two fingers against your throbbing clit.

"here's what were gonna do. we're gonna walk over to my room and you're gonna take everything off and then im going to stick my tongue up your cunt, then i'm going to show you exactly what you've been missing when you were fooling around with pencil dicks."

[bbokicidal]

Maybe Our Last .:. SKZ [L.FX]

Genre : Smut Pairing : Lee Felix x Fem!Reader Warnings : DUB-CON, Tentacle penetration I don't know HOW ELSE to word it!!, Hentai-esque themes, Monster Fucking (essentially), Throat fucking (kind of)

Kinktober Day 6 of 10 : Monster fucking w/ Felix Kinktober Masterlist

Word Count: 3.8K

I'm going to write a small snippet here because I need this to be clear; There is no sex between Felix and the reader; Changbin is the character who becomes the tentacle monster so technically he's fucking them both lol, and both Felix & the reader experience a sort of aphrodisiac which is why this is labeled as Dub-Con. If you don't like this type of shit just DON'T FUCKING READ IT LOL - also I've never written anything like this before so if it's bad... oh well.

You’d caught his eye the moment you walked into the party; The outfit, the style you’d worn your natural hair in, the dramatic makeup, the contacts, the thigh highs, the cute shoes – 

Felix had seen that character multiple times before; A beauty from one of his favorite animes in the world and now it was like she’d come right to life in front of his very eyes in the form of your Halloween costume. 

If he was honest, Felix wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his composure around you that night. You already made his heart race before, your demeanor was always so pleasant and kind towards him any time the two of you had bumped into each other or conversed as your friends spoke with each other, and now he knew you were about as big a nerd as he was; Which made you 10 times more attractive. As if you could get any more perfect.

Hell - He wasn’t even sure how he got you to sit down and talk to him on the couch like this; Your legs thrown over his lap, his hands resting respectfully atop them while the two of you chit-chatted as if you weren’t sitting in the middle of a massive college Halloween party. Biggest one that happened on campus, actually; Changbin just had that reputation going for him; Couldn’t let his people down this year, could he?

Music blared around the two of you, people dancing and singing, drinking ungodly concoctions of Rum and juice and edible glitter and making out against the walls; someone gagging just behind at the smell that was slowly flooding out of the downstairs restroom and towards the kitchen. Though, it felt as though none of it mattered as you were in your own little world with Felix.

“Yeah, I mean - her basic outfit is just so boring so I guess I tried to recreate the ascended version; I just think it’s cooler.”

“Definitely.” Call Felix a loser. He can’t keep himself from staring over at you in admiration, awe rushing through his veins the more you talk about what you thought of the show and what your opinions on different arcs were. His replies remain short and sweet - and you try your best to keep the conversation going, you do, but it’s hard to focus when he’s just so… pretty.

With a pink knitted sweater tucked into light wash jeans, he’d managed to secure a small pair of white wings to his back. He’d buttered up his look by applying glittering hairspray to the platinum locks that fell down over his shoulders and framed his face so well, a chunkier rose gold glitter overtaking the freckles on his cheeks. It seemed to complete the look for the cutest pixie you’d ever seen in your life; Not that you’d seen many.

“So you know the guy who lives here?” You question, tone soft. You’d heard of him before but you’d never talked to him personally; You’d really only been invited to the party because he was a friend of a friend. 

Felix’s lips part before he nods, a shy and polite smile overtaking his lips. “Ah - Yeah. Changbin’s a close friend of mine. He’s pretty cool, I guess.” His eyes darted over to peek at said friend, Changbin’s head popping into the restroom as his hand secured its hold on the doorframe. He looks as though he’s investigating something but Felix hasn’t a clue what, so instead of fretting about it he turns his attention back to you. “You don’t?” Felix quips before continuing. “I mean - you don’t know him?”

You blink a few times, offering a small shake of your head. “Oh, no. He’s a friend of my friend, Hyunjin. They’re practically attached at the hip and I see him around every so often but I don’t think I’ve ever had a full conversation with him before, you know?” You smile, giving a shrug. “We just don’t really run in the same friend group I guess. No big deal.”

The hand that had previously been resting against your shin - which was placed in Felix’s lap as you lounged back on the sofa in Changbin’s living room - moved to instead gently grasp at your knee. Felix giggles, “You should talk to him sometime. He’s genuinely one of the nicest guys I know. I get that his physique can be kind of intimidating but he’s really a nice guy. Maybe after the party we can –”

“Oh my God,” A girl shrieking from behind the sofa causes your body to jolt in surprise, your leg pulling off of Felix’s lap. He selfishly misses the contact immediately but lets his gaze pull from you to the young woman standing just over your shoulder. She’s turned away, her hand shaking as she points to the bathroom doorway. Changbin was gone, but where his hand had previously rested was now an oozing trail of green slime. Like something had slapped against the doorway and left a puddle that dripped down the polished wood. “Changbin?!” She cries, free hand pressing over her mouth. “Are you okay?!”

Hyunjin pushes past a few people to get to the girl, his hand resting against her arm as he glances between her horrified expression and the bathroom doorway. “What -?! What? What’s going on? Why are you yelling?” He stares down at her, the girl trembling under his touch. Her face had gone ghastly white, her joints blushed with blood that tried to push through to her extremities that had long lost all sense of warmth.

“Changbin,” She gasps out her friend’s name, her fingers shaking horribly as they dig into her cheek in terror. “He was trying to figure out what that awful smell was but I just – I saw him get pulled into the bathroom by something! I swear, it was like a monster - It was –”

The atmosphere turns horridly tense. The air thickens with dread as people begin to back away from the bathroom and some even turn to leave, wanting to get out of the house in case something horrible had happened. What if it was another person and Changbin had just been attacked? What if there was a serious sense of danger in the house now? And as you listen in, your chest feels heavy enough to cave in on you. You didn’t know Changbin well but that didn’t mean you didn’t care about him. He seemed like a genuine guy and right now you could only hope that this was some sick, cruel Halloween prank happening.

By the time you push yourself up off of the couch to even move into action Hyunjin is already in the bathroom doorway. His rushed demeanor comes to a sudden halt as he stops where the door cracks open, his gaze settled behind it and directed towards the shower. Everyone seems so quiet now, waiting impatiently for Hyunjin to give them some sort of update.

The only response they get for at least five seconds is the color draining from his face. His jaw clenched as he huffs out a breath before his body turns back to the living room and he pushes himself to leave the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He points, throwing his arm towards the front door that isn’t too far from where you stand. “Get out!” His voice leaves his throat in a scratching scream, begging for people to run from whatever it was he had seen in the bathroom only moments ago. “Get the fuck out!” He cries. “Run! Fucking run!”

People scatter; Dust settled on a shelf for decades now disturbed and dispersing into the once pure air. Footsteps are loud and heavy as some book it for the upstairs area, their shoes thumping heavy against the wooden steps. Most head for the front or back doors, Hyunjin’s hands pushing people to move into action as screams and cries fill the house and drown into the music still playing from the stereo speakers. 

The bathroom door slides open and what emerges makes your blood run cold.

That wasn’t Changbin.

That was a monster.

With eyes pure white and veins pulsing angrily in his throat, the Senior exited the bathroom not on his own two legs; Maybe not of his own free will. His head lulled as if he was no longer present, the parasite within him pushing him to exit and begin to attack. His upper half looked as if it had been melted and glued to the body of an octopus - if that octopus had biohazard green tentacles and slime oozing from every orifice. It pushed out of the corners of his mouth as his expression turned into a heavy scowl, his head tipping in the direction of the people scrambling for the front door - one of the tentacles reaching out in a quicker manner than expected. It had taken him so long to reveal himself that you were sure he was sluggish when it came to movement, but the tentacle seemed to snap out and wrap around the closest person’s waist.

Hyunjin gasped in horror as the wet surface slid and soaked his band tank, grabbing onto him tight and curling around him a few times to ensure he couldn’t escape from its hold. The tip of the tentacle smothered his cheek in goo and he visibly cringed, pulling his head back as far as he could while it rubbed against his face.

You hadn’t even realized your own body had become frozen in its place until Felix had reached for you, his fingers lacing with yours to pull you back to him. “Hey,” He yells over the noise, gently tugging on your arm, “We’ve gotta go!”

Your eyes drag to Felix before you nod, surely out of it by everything you were witnessing. This had to be some horrible nightmare - surely. Changbin wasn’t some scary tentacle monster and Hyunjin wasn’t getting smothered in goo and this house party was not just taken over by some… alien octopus parasite!

Felix moves to guide you as far from Changbin as he can get you, which isn’t very far unfortunately. His attempt is futile; The moment he rounds the couch it’s already too late. A tentacle had wound around your ankle and begun to lift already, refusing to let you go while suspending you mid-air. Felix, also refused to let you go.

He cried out as his hand was ripped from yours, watching you be lifted towards the ceiling as you screamed and begged for him to find a way to get you down. “Felix!” Your gasps were slashes to his heart, the knife twisting and digging into the muscle, ripping it apart. “Felix - Help me! Help me!”

Though he’s no better off. A third leg had wrapped over Felix’s chest, slime oozing from what looked to be the suction cups of the tentacle - only open and gaping as they sucked and clung to his sweater tight. Felix’s mouth opens though no sounds escape, his body only reacting as it knows how to when he’s this terrified. His hands come down on the tentacle and he hates how smooth it is, how slimy and wet it feels against his skin. “Let me go,” He gasps out, his head turning to look over towards Changbin’s upper half. Not that he’s really Changbin anymore. “Changbin-hyung! Let me go! Let me go, I’m your friend!”

Felix’s head snaps in your direction instead as he hears your voice letting out soft whines. The tentacle holding you up by your leg had tightened its grip and squirmed down towards your inner thigh, still wrapped up against you so snug that it made the soft fat beneath it bulge under your thigh highs. He didn’t even bother to take in the way your skirt had flipped upside down to reveal the pink panties underneath - He didn’t care. He was instead watching a separate tentacle rubbing against your face as if it were nuzzling you, smearing a pale green goo over your cheek and towards your mouth that made you spit in disgust. The tentacle pushes lower instead and wraps loose around your neck, your eyes darting down to watch as the suction cups open and release what looks like a sort of gas.

Your gasps are immediate, the sweet scent filling your body as you cried, “What the fuck is that?!”

Felix barely even registered that the tentacle wrapped over his chest had done the same, and when he did he was dumb enough to look down right into it. The scent was… nice. Pleasant. It made his body hum with a pleasant vibration that made him feel so warm and fuzzy. A feeling akin to being drunk for the first time - feeling a little out of it, a little loose. It felt immediate, too. 

His body slowly began to relax as the gas fogged around his head, the cups closing shortly after to let the air around your bodies clear. His eyes slowly pulled back to you, and though you were a bit hazy now, you were still there. 

The tentacle wrapped over your neck slithered down towards your chest, wrapping beneath the swell of your breasts tight so the fabric pulled taught against your curves - and the poor pixie across from you couldn’t stop himself from looking. He didn’t even feel guilty about it at the moment either. In any other circumstance he would’ve been too respectful and shy to even steal a quick glance but now, something about it felt so shameless. 

The tentacle slipped lower to give your body more support, leveling you out so you could essentially lay as though you were in bed instead of being hung upside down. How kind of it.

Felix swallows hard as his eyes trail over. He watches the tentacle holding onto your leg adjust itself so your thighs push apart for it and your body seems to naturally comply, your head tipping back as you allow the creature that was once Felix’s best friend to bend your body to its will. He finds himself whimpering when the tentacle pushes higher, the tip of the appendage wriggling and squirming over your skin until it tucked under your skirt and pried at your panties.

Your lips part in a sharp gasp, a heavy blush coating your cheeks at the realization that it’s trying to get at the most intimate of spaces on your body. The appendage curls tight around your panties before it begins to pull back, though when they refuse to move from your hips because of how snug they are - it opts to instead rip them right open. The fabric falls like nothing from your body before the tentacle moves back to work, your skirt ruffling against your hips and thighs as it pushes over your slit and curls the very tip around your clit in an effort to make you moan. And it works, of course.

Felix’s cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you being touched like this. He knows it’s gross - knows it’s dirty and knows you’ll no doubt judge him for enjoying nasty Hentai like this (if you even live to see the next morning…) but he really can’t help it. He can’t help that he’s getting hard at the sight of you like this. It’s like a scene right out of a movie he’d watched recently - The tentacles, your stupid Halloween outfit…

“Felix…” Your soft call of his name makes him snap back into reality - which isn’t far from his fantasies right now. His hands tightened down on the tentacle wrapped over his chest as he felt something push between his own legs; An appendage separate from the others had slipped up his left leg and prodded at the bulge in his jeans, curling slowly around the outline of his half-hard cock while he whined. His lashes fluttered and he squirmed at the feeling, the friction more than enough to make him chub up just a little bit more. 

He curses, whimpering under his breath. “Fuck,” Felix gasps, biting down hard into his lip to stop any other sounds from escaping from his mouth.

His gaze darts back to you just in time to see the tentacle between your legs begin to squirm back. The cups along the inner section of the appendage open slowly and begin to once again ooz the slime that had slicked up your face and soaked into your costume’s top. It dripped over your inner thighs and as you sucked in a breath, the tip of the tentacle pushed carefully into your entrance. It eased it’s way in until it was nearly five inches deep - though this wasn’t quite like having sex with just.. Some guy. First of all - this was a monster; Second - the tentacle was thick. 

It felt as though it was attempting to split you right in half, wriggling deeper before finally pulling back and pushing into you once more.

“Oh my God,” Your voice leaves in a desperate hum. Felix watches in both shock and awe as your head falls back at the feeling of your pussy being filled to the brim; The little suction cups kissing at your walls every time it pushed into you further, the tip squirming against the entrance to your cervix and begging to be let in - to fill you until you would burst.

Felix’s head swirls as his gaze drops once more. He stares at the tentacle wriggling its way into his waistband, his mouth dropping open to let out a moan that makes him feel disgusting. He’s enjoying this and part of him loathes himself for it. “Shit,” He whines, the appendage wrapping around his cock when it slipped into his boxers and smothering his length in slick, sticky goo. It soaked through to the denim of his jeans and caused a heavy, damp stain that made him embarrassed and made him whine in protest. His hands curled into fists, reaching down with both to try and rid the appendage from his waistband before another - smaller and thin as a rope - wrapped tight around his wrists at lightning speed. He trembles as his arms are pulled above his head, no longer able to defend himself against the tentacle wrapping around his cock and making him twitch and writhe in pleasure. “Fuck – Fuck,” He cries, his toes curling in his sneakers at the ache that forms through his abdomen. “Fuck –!”

Your eyes finally press open as you hear Felix whining across from you, your gaze settling first on his flushed and desperate expression before falling to watch as the tentacle below wraps around his cock and coats him in goo. You can’t see anything but you know it’s a delicious sight.

Though, the appendage previously touching Felix seems to realize something of its own - It can’t fill Felix like it can with you, so it would have to find another way to inject its semen into the man.

“Shit,” Your whisper is barely audible as you peek up, watching the tentacle drag over Felix’s chest before coming up and prodding at his lips. He barely has time to react as it forces it’s way into his mouth, pushing at the back of his throat and making him choke on a whimper as goo drips down the corners of his mouth. His gaze meets yours before you watch as his eyes flick down between your legs, watching the tentacle between your thighs pump into you quicker than before. Your shaky, unstable moans meet Felix’s ears and he hates that the mix of seeing you getting fucked and having his mouth used at the same time are what makes him coat the inside of his jeans in cum that mixes with the goo left behind.

Your gasps become frantic as the tentacle pushes further into you, stretching you as much as it can before it suddenly stops, burying itself into your walls and pumping something out of the cups that had once again opened. You can feel it; It’s hot and heavy, thick, creamy. Holding a promise of your demise.

It’s the same moment that the tentacle buried in Felix’s throat seems to release the essence, Felix choking and gagging and closing his eyes in embarrassment as it fills his mouth full. The tentacle retracts as quickly as it came, black leaking from the corners of the pixie’s mouth as he swallows and spits at the same time - trying to figure out what it is and what to do in his post-sex haze.

The appendage between your thighs retracts and as exhaustion waves over you, so do the rest. Your body falls from the air and hits the ground with a heavy thud, Felix’s following only moments later. You land on your side, eyes glossy with tears of fear and pleasure as you look over at where Felix lay on his stomach to your right. His eyes are closed, though it’s not long before they slowly flutter open and attempt to meet your gaze. Felix’s hand slowly shifts from his side, coming to meet your own. His fingers curl into your palm as he sighs out, his body giving into the exhaustion and slumping against the hardwood - his cheek squished against the floor and his brain shutting off.

While you remain conscious a while longer, your eyes slowly move around to what you can see of the room. Hyunjin sits slumped against the wall, black ooze dripping down his chin and throat. His mouth had been filled the same as Felix, though while it happened a bit earlier on after he was grabbed, his body had already begun to turn. He was no longer present, his lower half bubbling and steaming and his legs gone, four appendages already present and squirming as the others began to form. 

Your eyes slowly dragged back to the blonde laying beside you, your thumb swiping over his knuckles in admiration. You take in the way his hair falls over his eyes, the way his lips part and the way the chunky rose gold glitter on his cheeks only adds to the charm of the deep brown freckles painting his skin. Part of you was… happy, that he’d fallen asleep before he’d seen what had happened to Hyunjin; What would happen to him now, too. Though as you lay in exhaustion and attempt to fight the sleep, as your brain clears itself of the fog and begins to be overrun by the slime that had entered your body and taken control of every functioning system left inside of you, and the fear settles into your chest; The realization that this would be the last time you would be human, the last time you would see Felix’s face. So you fight the sleep a little longer, just enough to try and memorize every detail of the man laying across from you before he becomes a monster, too. Your head pounds with the need to rest as your eyes finally drop closed, your body slumping and going loose as your future ahead of you lay unknown. But again, holding the promise of your demise.

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@silly250

[mr2swap]

The Incident: It's not her

-It's not her, It's not her, It's not her- I repeated over and over again from the laundry room where I was hiding, between one of my hands I held my small slippery cock and with the other I held the gym clothes of " Mama,” his tank top was completely soaked with his hot, sticky sweat and his boxers were so wet that he could squeeze the sweat out and drink it like the most delicious juice.

I felt like hell doing this with my mother's clothes... but she was no longer my mother or at least that's what I told myself to try to silence the guilt, "Mama" or rather Frank was living with me and we were increasingly In the same room all I could think about was kneeling before his long hairy legs and taking out his huge cock and worshiping his huge hairy shaft.

It had been a big surprise for the whole family that my own mother was one of those affected by one of those incidents that a group of terrorists were causing throughout the country. This time it happened in the supermarket. My mother was shopping at the supermarket when they released that gas everywhere.

When we saw the news about the terrorist attack we tried to call mom, but no one answered. And hours later the police knocked on our door to bring “mom” back to her home.

I and dad stayed silent for several minutes watching a huge hairy man, almost 2 meters tall, enter our house with a bag full of groceries. “Mom” looked quite embarrassed. His movements were totally feminine and contrasted with that body. A thick beard. It covered his face and the thin fabric of his tank top revealed his muscular, hairy chest.

“Mama” ran to hug us with his long, strong arms, while a couple of tears of sadness stained his handsome face. Mom still didn't control his strength so that strong hug only made things even more awkward between us.

All of this was too much for my dad, He… just stayed silent for days, the house had never felt so bad, but luckily I lived alone and was only visiting to help mom and all the changes she was going through.

A week after the Incident, Mama arrived at my apartment with a suitcase in her hand and with a sad expression on her face.

-Your father and I... we are taking some time-

I knew what that meant dad was always very homophobic, that's the reason I left home, when I came out of the closet dad had the same reaction, ignoring me completely, but this time it was his own wife who was now a “faggot”

At first Mom's posture, movements and way of speaking were very effeminate, when we went to buy some clothes I heard some boys call us “faggots” without knowing that I was only shopping with my mother, but now I barely recognize her .

In just one month Mom started to change, she seemed much happier with her much younger and fit body, she started going to the gym and made new friends, loud, smelly, and extremely masculine guys, little by little Mom got used to his new friends and his new body and he completely became “Frank” Not only with his friends but also with me.

He stopped behaving like a 50-year-old lady and became a muscular airheaded caveman. When he's not devouring everything in the refrigerator while watching a football game in front of the TV, he's fucking some girl in what used to be my room. .

-That loser? Oh yes it's my... friend, his ex just left him and I let him sleep on my couch... but don't worry about him, now let me see those huge tits... -

That's usually his excuse when he brings a girl to my apartment, to fuck her loudly all night. And I... well, I sneak into the laundry room so I can listen much better as he fucks a new girl while I masturbate with her clothes, just like now.

If you liked this story about the "incident" there is a whole series of stories about people who lost their real bodies thanks to one of those attacks that are happening all over the country in my Ko-Fi archives… if you're lucky you could be next.

[fclsebnnyodair]

. ۫ ꣑ৎ . loser stiles and his out-of-his-league pretty girlfriend.

pairing: stiles stilinski x fem!reader.

summary: when stiles finally asks you to be his girlfriend and you say yes, he can’t believe it —and he’s not the only one. you two come in very different fonts. but, you’re so quick to prove him and his self-deprecation that you like him, fully and shamelessly.

warnings: used of y/n… im sorry. a little fluff? reader being a menace and the end of stiles life (in a good way).

a/n: i tried my best to be funny and make it a little longer. a mother needs to feed her kids. based on this req <3

stiles stilinski had spent a solid seven-teen years being a complete and utter dork. a nerd. a disaster in human form. the kind of guy who could tell you, unprompted, that the fear of long words is called hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia but somehow still couldn’t spell “necessary” on the first try.

he was the guy who tripped over air, made obscure pop culture references no one asked for, and had a deeply unhealthy relationship with sarcasm.

so, naturally, when you—actual goddess, the prettiest face in beacon hills, social butterfly extraordinaire—agreed to date him, stiles was convinced he was being pranked.

“she said yes,” he had told scott the night it happened, voice shaking, hands gripping his best friend’s shoulders like he was trying to transfer the shock through sheer physical contact. “she said yes. to me. like, willingly. no coercion. no hostage situation. just… yes.”

scott, ever the supportive best friend, blinked at him. “huh.”

“what do you mean huh?”

“I just—” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking way too amused. “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but… dude, that’s y/n.”

exactly.

you weren’t just popular. you are the cool kind of popular. the kind that made people want to be around you instead of just tolerating your presence because of high school hierarchy rules.

you had this effortless confidence, this ability to make everyone feel like they belonged—even stiles, who had spent most of his life on the outskirts of social normalcy.

you are the type of person who could go from hanging out with the lacrosse team and his girlfriends to sitting with the theater kids in the same day, and everyone would be happy to have you there. people gravitated towards you.

meanwhile, stiles had spent most of freshman year trying to convince people that his name was, in fact, not short for “stilton” like the cheese.

It didn’t make sense. and yet, somehow, here they were.

dating you was like winning the lottery, except instead of money, stiles got the incomprehensible love and affection of a literal angel.

which was great.

except for the fact that he had no idea how to be cool enough to keep up with you.

“you’re overthinking it,” you told him one day as you sat in your car, legs propped up on the dashboard.

“I always overthink it,” stiles replied. “It’s literally my defining trait.”

you laughed, and god, that laugh. It was the kind of sound that made people pause, made them turn their heads just to see what could possibly be so funny.

“okay, fine,” you said. “then tell me. what’s running through that giant brain of yours right now?”

stiles exhaled dramatically. “alright, let’s start with the obvious. I am a disaster. you are not a disaster. explain.”

you tilted your head, amused. “you really don’t see it, do you?”

“see what?”

you smirked, leaning in a little closer. “you’re kind of amazing, stiles.”

he blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“you make me laugh,” you continued, like you hadn’t just dropped a bomb on his entire worldview. “like, really laugh. you make things interesting. and you care so much about the people around you. I like that.”

stiles stared at you, brain officially malfunctioning. “uh. are you… are you sure you’re not under some kind of supernatural influence?”

you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder playfully. “just shut up?”

and just like that, he realized something insane. you actually liked him.

not just in a “haha, he’s fun to have around” way. not in a “pity date” way. not even in a “this is a temporary thing before I move on to someone more worthy” way.

you liked him. dorkiness, sarcasm, ADHD-riddled brain and all.

maybe he wasn’t as out of your league as he thought.

still, he spent the next few weeks in a state of perpetual disbelief.

he kept waiting for the moment where you would realize you had made a grave mistake and move on to someone who, well… had the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over absolutely nothing.

but you didn’t.

In fact, you made it very clear that you were, for some ungodly reason, into him.

like, full-on, public displays of affection into him.

which was insane.

because now, not only did stiles have to deal with his own confusion, but also the confusion of literally everyone else at beacon hills high.

It started with a completely normal lunch. stiles, scott, lydia, and you were all sitting together, as usual, while he rattled off some extremely important information about why the original ‘star wars’ trilogy was superior to the prequels.

“you just have to accept that Jar Jar Binks was a crime against cinema,” stiles was saying, mid-rant, when he felt a hand casually slip into his.

he froze.

the table went silent.

you, completely unbothered, just kept eating your fries, fingers lazily intertwined with his.

scott immediately stopped chewing. lydia raised an eyebrow. somewhere behind them, he was pretty sure he heard jackson choke on his drink.

stiles, being the mature and composed individual that he was, blurted out, “are you—did you—was that on purpose?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “no, stiles, my hand just accidentally fell into yours.”

scott made a choked sound that was very unhelpful.

“I just—” stiles floundered. “you’re—you want to hold my hand? In front of people?”

you smirked. “what, do you want me to sign a permission slip first?”

lydia rolled her eyes. “stiles, stop acting like you just won the lottery.”

“but I did,” he said, eyes still wide. “this is like if someone found bigfoot, but instead of running away, bigfoot started dating them.”

you snorted and leaned closer, whispering, “you’re an idiot.”

and then—just to completely obliterate stiles’s ability to function—you kissed his cheek.

the cafeteria erupted.

all right, maybe “erupted” was an exaggeration. but scott definitely lost all ability to contain himself, because he burst into uncontrollable laughter, clapping stiles on the back so hard he nearly faceplanted into his lunch tray.

jackson muttered something about how the world was officially broken.

and lydia? lydia just sipped her drink and said, “honestly, this might be the funniest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

stiles, meanwhile, was still sitting there, trying to process the fact that you had just kissed him in front of the entire student body.

“okay,” he breathed. “alright. cool. totally fine.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re so lucky I can keep up with you.”

“I strongly agree.”

scott shook his head, grinning. “dude. just take the win.”

yeah.

maybe he should.

────୨ৎ────

now stiles had zero business being on the lacrosse team. he was only there because coach finstock occasionally needed a warm body to throw onto the field, and also because scott insisted that he “needed to be included in the team dynamic.”

that was stupid, because stiles was about as useful on the field as a drunk giraffe.

still, here he was, suited up, trying his best to not die.

you were sitting in the stands, chatting with some of the other girls on the cheer squad, but every so often, he caught you watching him.

why on earth would you be looking at him when there were actual athletes running around?

at some point, coach finstock (in a moment of pure insanity) decided to sub stiles in.

naturally, it went horribly.

he got knocked over in under a minute.

hard.

like, wind knocked out of him, stars in his vision hard.

by the time he sat up, still gasping for breath, he vaguely registered that someone was calling his name.

then, suddenly, you were there, pushing past some of the other students on the sidelines, crouching next to him.

“oh my god, are you okay?” you asked, eyes scanning him for any visible injuries.

“you,” stiles wheezed. “just—taking a quick—dirt nap.”

you sighed, shaking your head. “you really shouldn’t be allowed to play this sport.”

“tell that to coach crazy over there,” he muttered.

you rolled your eyes, then—without warning—cupped his face and kissed him.

right there.

on the field.

In front of everyone.

stiles was pretty sure his soul left his body.

by the time you pulled away, he was definitely malfunctioning.

“god,” he managed.

you smirked, brushing some dirt off his jersey. “maybe if I keep doing that, you’ll actually start scoring points.”

scott, who had jogged over at some point, burst out laughing, —again.

“please don’t encourage him,” he told you.

you just shrugged, standing up. “what can I say? I like an underdog.”

stiles, still staring into the middle distance, finally processed what had just happened.

then, very calmly, he said:

“I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m definitely not complaining.”

────୨ৎ────

stiles finally gets it. he gets you. 

It took three months of dating before stiles finally stopped expecting you to give up on him.

because the truth was, you could.

but for some ridiculous, unexplainable reason—

you didn’t want to.

and maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

stiles stilinski had exactly one defense mechanism when faced with overwhelming emotional stimuli:

panic.

pure, unfiltered, high-octane panic.

and you?

you loved it.

you lived for it.

In fact, stiles was about 80% sure that her actual favorite hobby—above reading, music, and being generally awesome—was finding new and creative ways to make him short-circuit.

your weapon of choice?

kissing him.

at random.

without warning.

In the most inconvenient and socially inappropriate moments possible.

────୨ৎ────

stiles was already having a rough day.

coach had made him run extra laps for “being a distraction” (which was not fair, because technically speaking, it was danny who had laughed first).

so there he was, post-practice, dripping in sweat, hair a mess, brain still recovering from almost getting hit in the face with a lacrosse ball, when you materialized out of nowhere.

“hey, loser,” you greeted, leaning against the locker next to his.

stiles jumped about a foot in the air. “jesus—you can’t just sneak up on a guy like that!”

you, completely ignoring him, hummed thoughtfully. “you look cute when you’re sweaty.”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—what—who?”

and before his brain could fully reboot, you leaned in and kissed him.

right there.

In the locker room.

With scott and half the team still standing right there.

stiles froze.

his brain immediately short-circuited.

somewhere in the background, he could hear the distinct sounds of his teammates reacting.

jackson made a disgusted noise.

“seriously? right here?”

danny, ever the neutral observer, just snorted. “I mean, props to her, I do love watching stilinski suffer.”

scott, instead of helping, just shook his head fondly. “dude. just accept it.”

you, for your part, just smirked against stiles’s lips, completely unbothered, and pulled away with a satisfied little hum.

stiles, meanwhile, was still frozen in place.

mouth slightly open.

face burning red.

brain? completely fried.

“did I break you?” you teased, poking his cheek.

stiles let out a strangled sound.

jackson groaned. “oh god, get a room.”

you turned to him, smirking. “jealous?”

jackson scoffed. “not even remotely.”

you shrugged, looping your arm through stiles’s. “good. because I’m not sharing.”

and then you walked off, dragging stiles with you—leaving the entire locker room howling in laughter.

────୨ৎ────

stiles had one sacred rule in life:

the library is a safe space.

the library was for quiet and learning and pretending to do your homework while actually texting scott about supernatural nonsense.

the library was not for being publicly humiliated by your ridiculously hot girlfriend.

unfortunately, you did not respect the sanctity of anything.

stiles was sitting at his usual spot—textbook open, pen in hand, pretending to study—when you slid into the chair next to him.

“hey,” you greeted, voice suspiciously sweet.

stiles narrowed his eyes. “you’re up to something.”

you smiled, all innocent. “me? never.”

he squinted harder. “what do you want?”

you tilted your head. “can’t I just want to spend time with my adorable boyfriend?”

stiles immediately turned red. “I—you—stop that.”

“stop what?”

“being cute,” he hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

you grinned. “make me.”

before stiles could formulate a response, you very casually leaned forward and kissed him.

and not just a quick kiss.

oh, no.

this was a calculated attack.

a slow, lingering kiss, tongue and all—just long enough to completely fry his brain, but not long enough for him to actually do anything about it.

by the time you pulled away, stiles was bright red, gripping the edge of the table like his life depended on it.

“why?” he gasped out.

you shrugged. “felt like it.”

stiles gaped. “we are in library.”

you smiled sweetly. “uh-huh.”

“In a library.”

“yup.”

“where people can see us.”

she leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “I know.”

stiles let out an undignified squeak.

and that was the exact moment lydia martin—who had apparently been sitting three tables away—very loudly shut her book and said, “I’m going home. this is disgusting.”

you just laughed.

stiles, meanwhile, buried his face in his hands.

────୨ৎ────

now, there were rules when it came to dating in front of parents.

rule #1: no PDA.

rule #2: seriously, no PDA.

rule #3: do not test sheriff stilinski’s patience.

you had no regard for any of these rules.

stiles had just walked you to the door, ready to say a very normal, appropriate, and respectful goodbye, when you suddenly grabbed his hoodie, pulled him way too close, and kissed him stupid.

right there.

In his driveway.

where his father could definitely see.

and as if that wasn’t bad enough—

the front door creaked open.

sheriff stilinski cleared his throat.

you pulled away completely unbothered, turned to the sheriff, and grinned.

“good afternoon, mr. stilinski.”

stiles, meanwhile, had stopped breathing.

the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “you trying to kill my son?”

you smirked. “not today.”

and then you smiled—like a menace—patted stiles on the chest, and walked off, leaving him to deal with the aftermath.

the sheriff stared at him.

stiles stared back.

after a long, painful silence, his dad just shook his head and muttered, “unbelievable.”

then, he walked inside—chuckling to himself.

stiles, still standing frozen on the porch, groaned.

you were going to be the death of him.

and, honestly?

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[bytemee]

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) — YU JIMIN.

"just wanna let this story die, and i'll be alright."

synopsis. what was once love now feels like a wreck, and nothing will ever be the same between them.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). angst, cheating (not really bc they're not dating), mentions of drinking, karina is mean :(, just sad no happy ending

words. 1.3k

authors note. hi guys happy valentines day masterlist soon ok

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family emergencies don't wait for anyone.

you barely have time to throw things into a suitcase before you're running out the door, heart pounding with worry and adrenaline. the flight feels like it drags on forever, leaving you with too much time to imagine the worst possible outcomes.

every missed call and text from karina stings, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you're already juggling too much.

karina doesn't hear from you for three days.

she finds out you're gone when she shows up at your dorm unannounced, expecting you to be there like always—because you're always there. like the obedient little puppy she trained you to be. but the room is empty, the bed half-made, and your phone is going straight to voicemail every time she calls.

at first, she thinks you're just ignoring her. a part of her almost admires the audacity. but then she checks your drawers and sees the clothes missing, the toothbrush gone, the little signs that you didn't just leave for the night—you left. and you didn't tell her.

it hits her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

then rage coils in her stomach like a snake, tightening with every unanswered text.

where the fuck are you?

don't make me find you.

you think you can just disappear on me?

by the time the third day rolls around, she's furious. humiliated.

people keep asking where you are, and she doesn't have an answer. you made her look stupid. weak. you left without a word and expected her to just sit and wait? to not do anything?

like hell. fuck you.

so she goes out. parties harder than she has in months. lets her sorority sisters pour her drink after drink until the room spins and everything feels numb, because you made her feel something, and she doesn't want to anymore. she doesn't want to feel anything ever again.

then there's a girl.

not you, but someone close enough in the dark. someone who doesn't hesitate to put her hands where they don't belong, someone who doesn't make her wait, doesn't make her question if she's wanted. karina lets it happen. lets the girl kiss her, lets hands wander, lets herself pretend—just for a second—that you don't exist. that this is all there is. that she's still in control.

when you come back two weeks later, she's ice-cold.

at first, you think she's mad that you left without telling her properly, that she's just giving you a hard time. but when she won't even look at you, when she brushes past you in the hallway like you're nothing, the dread settles in your stomach like a stone.

then the videos start spreading around campus. one of her with a girl. her hands on the other girl's skin. her tongue in the other girl's mouth. the two of them drunk, laughing, kissing.

you can't stop watching them.

the videos aren't anything explicit, but they're damning.

you can't believe she would do this to you, after everything you've done for her, everything you've given her.

it hurts.

you want to scream at her. you want to ask her why—why she did it, why she pushed you away, why she made you feel like you were nothing. you want to know if she felt anything, if she even cared about you at all. but you don't. instead, you let the anger simmer beneath your skin, burning through your veins like wildfire.

you're done. you're so fucking done.

the next time you're face to face is completely coincidental. she's on her way back to her room from a party, drunk off her ass and barely able to walk in a straight line. you went to her sorority house to get some things of yours from her room, as winter promised you karina wouldn't be there.

but of course, she is.

karina doesn't notice you at first, too busy trying to steady herself against the wall. her makeup is smudged, her hair a mess, and her steps uncoordinated as she tries to focus on getting back to her room. but then she stumbles, catching her balance just in time to look up—and when her eyes meet yours, everything in the air freezes.

for a moment, neither of you move. you can smell the alcohol on her breath and see the haze of drunkenness in her eyes. she looks like shit. then, as if snapping out of a trance, you take a step forward—only for her to flinch back, her body pressing against the wall.

her reaction stops you dead in your tracks.

"stay away from me."

you stop in your tracks, throat tightening. "i just want my stuff. that's it. then i'm gone."

her eyes are glassy. she looks like she might cry. "i don't have them."

your hands clenched into fists. "yes, you do. my jacket and a book. you have them."

she shakes her head. "i threw them out."

"why would you do that?"

she exhales shakily, eyes darting away. "because you left." her voice is barely a whisper, her words slurred and uneven. "because you didn't even tell me. you just disappeared."

you scoff, shaking your head. "are you serious? i had an emergency, karina. my family needed me."

her jaw tightens, something unreadable flashing through her expression. "and i didn't?"

you blink. "that's not fair."

karina lets out a hollow laugh, bitter and sharp. "neither is finding out you were gone by walking into your empty fucking room."

you don't know what to say to that. because she's right. you should've told her. you should've sent something, anything. but you didn't, and now you're stuck, the two of you, standing in the middle of the hallway with no idea where to go from here. but that doesn't change what she did.

your voice is quieter when you finally speak. "you didn't have to—" you gesture vaguely, unable to say it. "—do what you did."

her gaze drops, shoulders tensing. her voice is low. "i don't know what you're talking about."

you let out a frustrated sigh, stepping closer. "you know exactly what i'm talking about. those fucking videos. everyone saw them."

she doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat. "i didn't do anything."

your hands curl into fists, anger rising in your chest. "don't lie to me, karina. i know it was you. why would you do that? were you that desperate to...i don't know? try and get back at me?"

karina's eyes are glassy, but whatever vulnerability was there a moment ago hardens into steel. she straightens up against the wall, brushing at her smudged makeup. when she finally speaks, her voice is cold.

"you really think you were more than just my little pup?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut, taking your breath away. karina stares you down, chin tilted up defiantly, daring you to argue, to fight back. but you can't. because no matter how angry, how betrayed, how humiliated you are, you still care about her.

"you were convenient, that's all. always there when i needed you. following me around like a pathetic stray, waiting for scraps of affection. and you lapped it up, didn't you?"

"karina, stop," you whisper.

she doesn't stop. she steps closer, her words venomous. "i needed someone to depend on, and you were just there. do you think i would've chosen you otherwise?"

your throat tightens. every syllable feels like another dagger to the chest.

"when you left, i realized how easy it was to replace you. how easy it would be for me to find someone else. and i did." she smiles, sharp and cruel. "do you want to know her name? or do you prefer not knowing?"

tears well up in your eyes despite everything, hot and burning. you blink rapidly, but you can't stop them from falling. 

"i gave you everything," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "i was there for you every second you needed me."

"and that's all you were good for," she snaps. "you should've known your place. a good little pup doesn't run off without permission." 

then, she pushes past you, her shoulder bumping yours as she stumbles toward her room. "go home, y/n," she mutters, voice breaking just slightly. "there's nothing left for you here."

and just like that, she's gone.

you're left standing alone in the hallway, heart aching, tears streaming down your cheeks.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

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[herrscherofinsanity]

Tangled Webs and Heartstrings

Spider!Minjeong... subtlety has never been her thing!

Fluff

Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem!reader

Word count: 4.3k

Yes, this was a request. Yes, I had lots of fun doing it. Sorry for the wait, hope it was worth it!

____________________

The school gym is packed.

It’s the end of the day, and the student council is setting up for some kind of fundraiser — a bake sale, a raffle, something y/n y/l/n had excitedly pitched with sparkles in her eyes and a hundred volunteers too afraid to say no. Minjeong isn't even sure why she’s here, crouched awkwardly behind the snack table in her hoodie, pretending to fix the paper banner even though she’s mostly just watching y/n from a distance.

She tells herself it’s purely coincidental. Totally accidental. Not at all because y/n looks extra pretty in her student council sash, or because she’d smiled at Minjeong earlier and said, “You’re helping too? Cute.”

Nope. Not because of that.

Minjeong fiddles with a roll of tape to distract herself. She’s not Spiderwoman right now. She’s just… Minjeong. Ordinary. Invisible. Safe.

Then, as if summoned by karma itself, she hears it:

“Ow—! Whoa—!”

She looks up just in time to see y/n — up on a bench trying to pin the final banner over the gym door — lose her balance.

Minjeong gasps, the world slows, she doesn’t think — just moves.

By the time y/n blinks, Spiderwoman is already there.

She swings in through the high gym windows, landing with a soft thwip of web. She catches y/n mid-fall, bridal-style, one arm around her back and the other steadying her knees.

y/n stares.

Spiderwoman blinks.

“…Hi?” Minjeong says, her voice just a little too high-pitched behind the mask.

y/n arches a brow. “You again?”

Spiderwoman gently sets her down on the ground. “You, uh, twisted your ankle. I think. I mean—I saw—well, not like I was watching you—I just—was passing by! Over the gym. You know. Swinging.” She gestures vaguely upward. “Air.”

y/n bites her lip, clearly fighting a smile. “You really do show up every time I so much as sneeze in public.”

“I—it’s not just you,” Spiderwoman mutters. “I save lots of people.”

“Right, sure.” y/n grins, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “You wouldn’t happen to be stalking me, would you?”

“I—what? No! No, I—who would do that? That’s crazy. So crazy. Like, unhinged, even.”

y/n leans in just a little. “You’re kind of cute when you panic.”

Minjeong makes a sound like a squeaky toy and nearly trips over her own web.

“I—I should go. You’re safe. Mission accomplished. Okay. Bye.”

She fires a web to the rafters, nearly misses, and stumbles as it catches. y/n watches, fully amused, as the masked hero flails for a second before swinging off, muttering to herself about "stupid gravity" and “why now of all times.”

y/n tilts her head, watching her disappear through the window.

She rubs her ankle, then glances down at her wrist.

Wrapped around it is a thin strand of web — almost like a ribbon. Almost like a calling card.

y/n smiles to herself. “Spiderwoman, huh?” she says under her breath. “Interesting.”

-----

Minjeong’s Room – 8:42 PM

Minjeong groans and drops face-first onto her bed, still wearing her Spiderwoman suit from the waist up, mask thrown to the floor in dramatic shame.

“Why am I like this,” she mumbles into her pillow.

She rolls over and stares at the ceiling, arms flopped out like a starfish. Her cheeks are still burning. She replays it in her head — the twist, the save, the bridal carry, the flirting.

“She called me cute,” Minjeong groans, grabbing a pillow and smacking herself with it. “She called me cute, and I ran away like a complete loser.”

The small radio on her desk buzzes to life with police chatter. She glances at it, then looks away.

“Nope. Not going out again tonight. The city can survive one night without me. I almost tripped on my own web… in front of her. I have no dignity left.”

She picks up a crumpled notebook and opens it. Inside are quick sketches — little doodles of Spiderwoman and a mysterious girl with a sash and a mischievous smile. She stares at it, then hurriedly shoves it under her pillow like it might explode.

“She definitely suspects something. I need to stop showing up every time she breathes.”

Pause.

“…She has a really nice smile though.”

--

y/n’s Room – 8:43 PM

y/n sits cross-legged on her bed, ankle wrapped in a soft bandage, phone in hand, and a suspiciously giddy look on her face.

Across from her, Ryujin lounges with a face mask on, peeking up from her book.

“Okay,” Ryujin says slowly, “what’s got you smiling like that? Did another freshman confess their love again?”

y/n snorts. “No, not this time. Though that was hilarious. No, today’s chaos was… new.”

She taps her screen and holds it up. It’s a blurry photo someone caught in the gym — Spiderwoman, mid-swing, cradling y/n in her arms like a rom-com hero. The caption: “She came flying in out of nowhere???”

Ryujin laughs. “Okay, that’s amazing. But also? She’s totally into you.”

y/n raises a brow. “She is?”

“y/n, be serious. You’ve been rescued, what, four times now? And somehow, it’s always you. That girl’s got a spider crush.”

y/n hums, not denying it. “She’s… interesting. I think I get why people like the mystery. But here’s the thing—” she leans forward, eyes glittering with mischief, “I think I know who she is.”

Ryujin lowers her book. “Wait, what?”

y/n smiles to herself and says nothing more. But in her head, she’s already thinking of the quiet girl in the hoodie, the way Minjeong panicked when their hands brushed last week, the way her voice trembled when she said y/n looked nice at the last student council meeting.

Too many coincidences.

And maybe… just maybe… y/n kind of wants it to be her.

-----

Minjeong stands at her locker, staring into it blankly like the answers to life are hidden behind her math books.

She hasn’t slept much — her dreams were full of red sashes, crooked smiles, and falling out of the sky into y/n y/l/n’s arms instead of the other way around. The memory of yesterday's disaster still burns under her skin.

She exhales sharply and mutters, “Just act normal. Be cool. Avoid eye contact. Maybe move to Canada.”

“Morning, Minjeong!”

Minjeong jumps so hard she almost drops her books.

y/n y/l/n is right behind her, glowing like the sun, hair done up in a lazy ponytail, sash off for the day but still carrying herself like royalty. Her ankle is wrapped but she walks just fine — too fine, if you ask Minjeong. Suspiciously fine.

“Oh,” Minjeong says, voice cracking. “Hi! Hello! You’re here.”

y/n raises an amused brow. “Well, yeah. School. I do go here.”

“Right! Of course. Obviously.”

y/n leans a little closer, her voice lower now. “You look tired.”

Minjeong stares at her. “I slept. I mean—yes. I do that. Sleeping. At night. Regular hours. Normal human stuff.”

y/n grins like a cat who’s found a very entertaining mouse. “You know,” she says, twirling a strand of her hair, “Spiderwoman saved me again yesterday.”

Minjeong chokes on air.

y/n continues, voice sweet and casual. “She always shows up just in time. It’s weird, right? Almost like she’s watching me.”

Minjeong blinks. “That is weird. Super weird. Creepy, even. You should… maybe install cameras?”

y/n hums thoughtfully. “Or maybe I should just pay closer attention to the people around me.”

Minjeong lets out a high-pitched laugh. “Why would you do that?”

y/n just smiles and walks away, leaving a short-circuiting Minjeong frozen in front of her locker, fully broken.

-----

y/n didn’t plan to go get ice cream, but she’s finished her student council duties early, it’s a sunny day, and frankly, she feels like causing minor mischief. So, she heads out alone, takes a stroll, and ends up at her favorite spot near the park.

She's halfway through ordering when the universe intervenes.

A kid on a skateboard comes out of nowhere, careening down the sidewalk. y/n steps back just a little too late — her foot catches the curb, and she stumbles backward.

“Oh come on—”

Before she can hit the pavement, Spiderwoman drops down from above in an absolute flourish of limbs and webbing, catching y/n around the waist like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.

y/n ends up dipped backward like its prom night.

Spiderwoman blinks.

y/n smirks.

“…This is getting suspicious,” y/n murmurs, looking up at the masked girl who’s clearly blushing under that suit.

“I was just… around,” Spiderwoman squeaks.

“Of course you were.” y/n twirls a strand of her hair. “Let me guess. You were swinging over the ice cream parlor?”

“I was, um… craving strawberry?”

y/n laughs — full, bright, genuine. “You’re ridiculous.”

Spiderwoman helps her upright again, awkward and bashful. “You’re okay though, right?”

y/n nods, brushing off her skirt. “I always am when you’re around.”

That definitely short-circuits Spiderwoman, who nearly stumbles over her own feet trying to swing off again. y/n watches her disappear into the sky, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’ve got to figure out who you are,” she says under her breath. “Because this? This is fun.”

-----

“I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go. Death by flirting. At least she’s hot.”

Minjeong drops her head onto the cafeteria table. Jimin gently pats her back like she’s in mourning. Aeri sips her drink, unimpressed. Yizhuo is already halfway through her bag of chips, eating with the energy of someone watching a reality show.

“What happened this time?” Aeri asks dryly.

“She almost fell at the ice cream shop yesterday,” Minjeong groans, still face-down. “And I just happened to be around. Again.”

“You mean,” Jimin says carefully, “you were stalking her.”

“No! I was just—okay yes, but lightly. I was passing by!”

“You swooped in and cradled her like a rom-com lead,” Yizhuo adds, tossing a chip into her mouth. “That’s not casual. That’s soulmate behavior.”

Minjeong lifts her head just enough to pout. “She’s onto me. I can tell. She kept looking at me weird this morning, and she keeps teasing me about Spiderwoman. I think she’s playing with me.”

“She probably is,” Aeri says bluntly. “And you’re letting her.”

“She smirked, Aeri. She smirked and said ‘you’re always around when I’m in trouble.’ Like—like I don’t try to save everyone. Like I’m her personal superhero.”

“Which you are,” Jimin says, beaming.

“I’m gonna get exposed,” Minjeong whimpers. “She’s going to unmask me and then laugh and say ‘wow I really thought you’d be taller.’”

“Honestly,” Yizhuo says, “if she finds out and still flirts with you, it’s a win.”

“IF!?”

--

y/n leans back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, sipping an iced coffee like she owns the school. She taps her pen against her planner and smiles to herself.

Across the room, Ryujin raises a brow. “What are you plotting now?”

“Me?” y/n says innocently. “Nothing, just thinking.”

Ryujin doesn’t even blink. “Don’t lie to me, you’re glowing. That’s your mischief face.”

y/n sighs dramatically. “Fine. If I were plotting, hypothetically, it would be… a light social experiment.”

“Which means?”

y/n smiles wider. “I’ve narrowed it down. Spiderwoman is definitely someone from this school, and I think she might be Minjeong.”

Ryujin blinks. “The tiny one who blushes when you say ‘hi’?”

“The very same.”

“…y/n, be serious.”

“I am,” she hums. “Think about it. Spiderwoman’s voice? Nervous. Awkward. Like she’s trying to be confident and only halfway succeeding. She always shows up where I am, which is honestly flattering. And yesterday, Minjeong looked like she saw a ghost when I teased her about it.”

Ryujin stares. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

y/n leans forward, eyes glinting. “Oh, I’m thriving. And now… we test the waters.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m going to be somewhere ‘dangerous’ after school.”

“y/n—”

“I’m not going to actually fall off anything,” she says with a scoff. “I’m just going to see if she shows up.”

Ryujin pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re such a menace.”

y/n grins. “She started it.”

-----

y/n stretches her arms as the afternoon sun casts a warm glow over the rooftop. She leans over the edge just a little, enough to look dramatic but not enough to trigger a real emergency.

She’s counting down in her head.

3… 2… 1…

Thwip.

“Hey! That’s not safe, y’know!”

y/n bites back a smile and turns, as if surprised. “Oh? Spiderwoman? What a coincidence.”

Minjeong — Spiderwoman — swings down from the rooftop ledge and lands in a little tumble-roll, clearly trying to appear cool despite the fact that she nearly faceplanted. “Wh-what are you doing up here? It's, uh… dangerous.”

y/n blinks innocently. “I just wanted to watch the sunset.”

Minjeong panics. “You could’ve fallen!”

“I had faith you'd catch me.”

That makes Spiderwoman stammer. “Wh— I mean—of course I would! I-I’m always around. Y’know. Just… protecting people.”

“Really?” y/n steps closer, eyes twinkling. “Because you seem to be protecting me a lot lately.”

Silence.

Spiderwoman lets out a nervous laugh, clearly glitching. “Haha… well, you… just have very bad luck, that’s all!”

y/n tilts her head. “Or maybe you like me.”

Spiderwoman makes an inhuman squeak. “W-what?! N-no— I mean yes— I mean no— I mean—!”

y/n walks past her, casually brushing her shoulder as she heads to the exit. “Thanks for the save, Spidey.”

Minjeong is left rooted in place, mask slightly askew, heart pounding. What she didn’t know was that the most stressful week of her life was about to start.

--

Day 1 – Monday:

y/n is standing beneath a ladder that a janitor is using. A bucket of paint just so happens to tilt from the top—

Thwip!

Spiderwoman catches it mid-air with a web, flinging it safely aside.

“You have the best timing.”

“You have the worst luck! Why were you just standing there?”

“Maybe I was hoping you'd show up.”

--

Day 2 – Tuesday:

y/n is carrying a suspiciously tall stack of books down the library stairs. Of course, she trips.

Spiderwoman catches her bridal-style.

“We really have to stop meeting like this.”

“Or you could just—like—not fall off things?!”

--

Day 3 – Wednesday:

y/n stands under a tree during lunch. A bird decides to attack her hair.

Spiderwoman appears out of nowhere, shooing the bird off like some chaotic fairy godmother.

“I feel like a Disney princess with a superhero guardian.”

“You need a leash, is what you need!”

--

Day 4 – Thursday:

y/n reaches to get a soda from a vending machine. The machine glitches. y/n shakes it. The machine teeters.

Spiderwoman swings in, literally kicks the machine to save y/n.

“That was hot.”

“THAT WAS DANGEROUS.”

--

Day 5 – Friday:

The week ends at the school theater. y/n is helping with stage decorations, she’s standing on a wobbly chair.

Of course, it tips.

And of course—Thwip!

y/n falls right into a web… and Spiderwoman’s arms.

She looks up, grinning. “You always catch me.”

Spiderwoman is quiet for a second. “Yeah… always.”

-----

y/n is sprawled on her bed, legs kicking behind her as she scribbles in a pink glittery notebook. At the top of the page in bubble letters:

“Reasons Why Minjeong is Spiderwoman”

Weird bruises she can’t explain

Always disappears before Spiderwoman shows up

Same height, same awkward voice

Adorably clumsy in both identities

I’ve fallen into her arms five times and it’s been the exact same hug every time

Minjeong’s ears turn red just like Spiderwoman’s mask does when she’s flustered

I just know okay???

y/n taps her pen against her lips, grinning to herself. “Time to poke the bear.”

-----

y/n corners Minjeong by her locker, leaning against it casually, smiling like she knows something.

“Hey, Minjeong.”

Minjeong, half-choking on her own spit: “O-oh! H-hi! Good morning! H-how are you!?”

“I’m great, actually. Bit of a weird week though. I’ve been rescued by a superhero like five times.”

Minjeong’s smile falters. “H-ha. That’s… haha… yeah, weird. Really… strange.”

y/n leans closer. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Minjeong is frozen. “Me? Know about what?”

y/n lifts a brow. “Spiderwoman, of course.”

Minjeong nearly drops her books. “Wh-WHY WOULD I— no! I mean no! I mean why would you think I know her? I’m— I’m just—” she gestures vaguely at herself, “Minjeong.”

The other girl hums, eyes twinkling. “Sure you are.”

-----

During lunch, y/n is sitting with Liz, Ryujin, and Yeji at lunch, eyes locked across the room where Minjeong is poking at her food, clearly paranoid.

Yeji leans in. “So, uh… is it working?”

y/n smirks. “She’s one panic away from crawling up the wall.”

Liz smirks right back. “You’re playing with fire.”

Ryujin lets out a laugh. “Honestly? I’m rooting for the flames.”

y/n grins, “I just want her to admit it. And maybe kiss me after.”

--

Minjeong whispers across the table to herself as if in prayer. “I’m so doomed. I’m so, so doomed. She knows. She’s toying with me.”

“Is she flirting or threatening you?” Jimin asks carefully.

“Yes.”

-----

It’s a rare cloudy afternoon in the city, and school let out early due to some power outage. y/n, of course, decided to casually take a stroll toward her favorite boba shop. Alone. In a questionable alley shortcut. With her phone conveniently at 3%.

It was all part of the plan.

What wasn’t part of the plan was the sound of tires screeching way too close.

A reckless driver had hopped the curb just as y/n stepped off it—she froze. For real this time.

Before she could even blink, a blur of red and blue swung down and scooped her up bridal-style, soaring them both safely onto a nearby rooftop.

y/n’s arms are still wrapped tightly around Spiderwoman’s neck when she finally speaks.

“You came,” she whispers, wide-eyed and breathless for real this time.

Spiderwoman, trying to play it cool but visibly trembling, replies shakily, “Y-yeah, of course. You were—um—danger. Dangerous. In—no, wait. In danger.”

y/n doesn’t let go. In fact, she gets more comfortable, her voice going soft and sincere. “You’ve saved me so many times this week. I think it’s time I thanked you properly.”

Minjeong’s voice cracks through the mask. “Th-that’s not necessary! I-I mean, your safety is thanks enough—”

y/n leans in slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the mask. “Just one kiss. For all the times you caught me.”

Before Minjeong can fully short-circuit, the girl in her arms lifts the mask just enough to reveal her lips—and kisses her.

It’s soft. Sure. But it sends Minjeong’s brain into a system reboot. Her hands, still holding y/n, stiffen like she’s forgotten how to human. Her knees buckle. Her heart stops.

And when y/n pulls back, grinning like the cat that caught the spider, she whispers right against Minjeong’s lips.

“Hi, Minjeong.”

Minjeong gasps. “W-WHAT?!”

“Told you I’d figure it out.”

Minjeong’s voice goes high-pitched. “You—You KISSED me to REVEAL ME?! That’s—that’s cheating! That’s emotional sabotage! That’s—”

y/n just laughs, cupping her cheek. “You looked cute in the suit. I had to know if you tasted sweet too.”

Minjeong genuinely collapsed.

-----

Two weeks had passed since The Rooftop Incident.

And Minjeong had not known peace.

Every time she turned a corner, y/n was there — smirking, tossing her hair, leaning against lockers like she was starring in her own rom-com, and absolutely thriving in the knowledge that she’d cracked the biggest secret in school. The one person who hadn’t been fooled? Of course, it was the girl who practically lived in Minjeong’s head.

Minjeong, meanwhile, had barely survived.

She had walked into four poles, missed two stair steps, and accidentally called her chemistry teacher “Your Majesty” once.

And now here they were, on the school rooftop again. This time, no mask, no excuses. Just them.

y/n sat with her legs dangling off the ledge, sipping from a strawberry juice box like she didn’t just alter the course of Minjeong’s entire life.

“So,” she said casually, “how does it feel to be exposed?”

Minjeong groaned beside her, flopping dramatically onto the concrete. “Humiliating. Debilitating. Traumatizing.”

y/n laughed. “You’re so dramatic. You got kissed by a pretty girl on a rooftop. That’s basically fanfiction-level romance.”

Minjeong covered her face with both hands. “You tricked me!”

“You kissed me back,” y/n shot back smugly.

“I panicked!”

“You cupped my waist.”

“…Nervous muscle memory!”

y/n leaned over her, face inches away, eyes soft now. “You can admit it, y’know. That you like me.”

Minjeong peeked through her fingers. “That obvious, huh?”

y/n nodded. “Like, painfully. I think even the pigeons knew.”

Minjeong sat up slowly, still pink from head to toe. “Fine. I like you. I’ve liked you forever. Since… before I even got bit, honestly. I was gonna tell you, eventually. Maybe. After graduation… or on my deathbed.”

y/n giggled, nudging her shoulder. “You’re lucky I like awkward nerds with superpowers.”

Minjeong blinked. “Wait—wait, you like me too?”

y/n scoffed. “What do you think the kissing was for? Science?”

“…That would’ve been less stressful, actually.”

y/n rolled her eyes affectionately and stood, dusting off her skirt. “Come on. Walk me home?”

Minjeong scrambled to her feet. “You want me to swing you?”

“Nope,” y/n said sweetly. “I want you to walk me. No suit. No excuses. Just my girlfriend.”

Minjeong choked. “Girlfriend?!”

y/n grinned, already heading for the stairs. “I kissed you as a thank you. You kissed me back. I’m just accepting your proposal.”

Minjeong stared after her, stunned. Then, with a dreamy little smile pulling at her lips, she jogged to catch up.

--

y/n leaned on the railing, watching the skyline, sipping another juice box. Behind her, a thump — the soft sound of someone landing.

“You’re late,” she said without turning.

Spiderwoman chuckled softly. “Some jerk locked himself out of his apartment five floors up. Had to help.”

y/n turned, arms crossed. “Mmm. Classic excuse. Got your priorities all out of whack.”

Spiderwoman stepped forward, mask half-off already. “But I made it, didn’t I?”

y/n softened instantly, walking up to her. “You always do.”

They stood there for a beat. Close, quiet.

y/n reached out, brushing a bit of hair from Minjeong’s face.

“You know,” she said softly, “I fell for both versions of you. The dork and the hero.”

Minjeong took her hand. “They’re the same girl, you know.”

“I know.” y/n smiled. “That’s why I’m keeping you.”

Minjeong leaned in, voice gentle. “Then I guess I’m yours.”

y/n pulled her close. “About time.”

--

One Week Later – Group Chat: [Jimin, Aeri, Yizhuo, y/n, Minjeong]

Jimin:

sooooo you two are finally official huh

Aeri:

thank god. i was about to lock you in a closet until you kissed

Yizhuo:

the lesbian rooftop superhero romance is real… we won

y/n:

you’re welcome for the entertainment

Minjeong:

I feel so attacked

y/n:

you’re dating me now. get used to it.

Minjeong:

…okay

Yizhuo:

…Minjeong get up

_____________________

Bonus:

Six months later...

The morning sun poured through the half-open blinds, casting streaks of golden light across the tangled sheets. In the middle of the bed, Minjeong lay on her stomach, one leg hanging off the side, her face buried into the pillow. Her hair was sticking up at odd angles — clearly a victim of the night’s tossing and turning.

On the other side, y/n sat cross-legged, fully awake, brushing her teeth with a lollipop in her mouth.

“Minjeong,” she said through the candy stick. “You’re going to be late.”

Minjeong groaned. “Spiderwoman doesn’t do mornings.”

y/n poked her. “Spiderwoman also has physics first period and a quiz on friction.”

“…Friction is my enemy.”

y/n’s eyes sparkled. “I dunno, you didn’t seem to hate friction last night when—”

Minjeong launched a pillow at her with deadly precision.

y/n collapsed into giggles, hands up in surrender.

Later, in the kitchen, Minjeong, finally upright and conscious, munched on toast while leaning heavily against the counter.

y/n was in front of her, poking through a box of labeled gadgets Minjeong had been tinkering with. “What’s this one do?”

“Glows in the dark. Kind of useless but cool.”

“And this?”

“Explodes glitter.”

Pause.

“…That one’s for emergencies only.”

y/n’s eyebrows wiggled. “Define emergency.”

Minjeong deadpanned, “If I ever forget your birthday.”

y/n smiled wide, leaning up to kiss her cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Minjeong smiled down at her, eyes soft behind her glasses. “Lucky I’ve got you.”

--

Spiderwoman crouched on the edge of a building, surveying the city below.

Behind her, a voice crackled through her communicator. y/n’s voice.

“You know,” y/n said teasingly, “I think I liked you better when you were mysterious and broody. Now you’re just a soft little nerd with a grappling hook.”

Minjeong grinned under the mask. “You loved me when I was mysterious. You’re in love with me now.”

A pause.

Then her girlfriend replied, voice warm. “Yeah. I really am.”

Spiderwoman stood, wind brushing past her, and smiled out at the world.

She was awkward, nerdy, still tripped over her own feet half the time — but she was loved. Fully, completely, and fearlessly.

And with y/n in her corner?

She felt like she could do anything.

--

A Newscast Playing on a Shop Window:

“—and once again, Spiderwoman swooped in to stop a carjacking near the downtown plaza. Eyewitnesses say she seemed… embarrassed to take credit—”

y/n passed by the window, sipping her iced coffee, wearing Minjeong’s oversized hoodie. She glanced at the screen, smirked, and whispered to herself,

“Dork.”

Then she walked off down the street — texting one-handed.

y/n:

Miss you already.

Don’t fall off a roof.

I want cuddles when you’re back.

And my hoodie. Maybe.

Spiderwoman:

saving the world. brb.

but yes. cuddles.

and you can try to take the hoodie back.

____________________

A/N: Hi! I love these stories so much. Feel free to leave any requests, it'll take me forever, but I will write them eventually.

[wilwheaton]

The beautiful town of Asheville, North Carolina, one of my favorite places in the country. Spent time there. Amazing people. Devastated. Hundreds of people killed. President Biden and Vice President Harris were down there meeting with local officials and comforting families, asking how they could help. Donald Trump at a rally just started making up stories about the Biden administration withholding aid from Republican areas and siphoning off aid to give to undocumented immigrants. Just made the stuff up. Everybody knew it wasn’t true. Even local Republicans said it was not true. Now the people of Florida are dealing with another devastating storm, and I want you to watch what happens over the next few days, just like the last time. You’re going to have leaders who try to help, and then you have a guy who will just lie about it to score political points. This has consequences, because people are afraid, and they’ve lost everything, and now they’re trying to figure out, how do I apply for help? Some of them may be discouraged from getting the help they need. the idea of intentionally trying to deceive people in their most desperate and vulnerable moments. My question is: When did that become okay? I’m not looking for applause right now. I want to ask Republicans out there, people who are conservative, who didn’t vote for me, who didn’t agree with me. I had friends who disagreed with me on every issue. When did that become okay? Why would we go along with that? If your coworkers acted like that, they wouldn’t be your coworkers very long. If you’re in business and somebody you’re doing business with just outright lies and manipulates you, you stop doing business with them. Even if you had a family member who acted like that, you might still love them, but you’d tell them you got a problem and you wouldn’t put them in charge of anything. And yet, when Donald Trump lies, cheats, or shows utter disregard for our Constitution, when he calls POWs “losers,” or fellow citizens “vermin,” people make excuses for it. They think it’s okay. They think, well, at least he’s owning the libs. He’s really sticking it to ‘em. It’s okay as long as our side wins.

President Obama asks "When Did That Become Okay?"

[islandheartprincess]

bully!rafe ༚⁠ᵕ˖⁠♡ pt. 3

part 1 ✧ part 2 ✧ part 3

‧₊˚ ⋅ summary: he wasn't your boyfriend, why did he get so pissed seeing you talk to another guy. you put him in his place, but not long before he reminds you why you can't forget him

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ pairing: bully!rafe x sassy reader

୨ৎ .ᐟ a/n: ik this was long awaited, drk know how I feel ab this 1, feedback highly appreciated!

‧₊˚ ⋅ c!w: swearing, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex, reader is that bitch, switch sub & dom, reader makes fun of rafe, name calling

in an attempt to get your mind off things, especially about your last encounter with rafe, you found yourself out and about with your friends.

you guys spent a whole day having fun, ending your day at some nice little food spot that most kildare teenagers you knew hung out at. it was until your day took a turn when you were reminded of your actions from last week.

it's not like you exactly regretted what happened, quite the opposite. being stuck in a state of disbelief, you were still struggling to process what even happened.

yet everytime you saw rafe, it was like it never happened. you still saw him acting as the same playboy flirt as always, the same dickhead.

for rafe, he knew that one encounter wouldn't satisfy his need for you. being the man he is, he tried to shut you out. when fucking some girl he couldn't remember the name of, it was your face he was picturing. and, your name he moaned on accident.

he also knew you seeing him with random girls wouldn't sit well with you. convincing himself, how the poor girl you are, you would just sit there and wait until he came back to you. you weren't pathetic like he was, he should've known better.

so when you saw his face, it almost felt as though the people around you disappeared. your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly regained control of yourself, and came back to reality. turning back to your friends, laughing and returning to the conversation.

no, he wasn't disappointed in your underwhelming reaction, was he? hm, trying to play cool, that must've been your plan. not for long though, he was determined on getting back your attention.

rafe was seated down with his friends, hoping nobody would notice his odd behavior. his eyes were on you, pretentiously watching and waiting until your gaze landed on him. you couldn't have appeared more unaware and unbothered, it was like he wasn't even there!

"hellloooo? you there bro?" he was snapped out of his trance by toppers hand waving in front of his eyes. he honestly forgot there were other people around him, "huh? yeah- uh, what?" his friends around him snickered, "dude, did you even hear anything we were talking about?" topper continued.

"nah man, he was too busy staring at those chicks over there." kelce teased, tilting his head in your direction. your friends noticed their stares, nudging eachother with giggles.

"really guys? ignore them! there total losers...." you shunned the girls around you, with a pout on your lips. one of the girls continued her giggling, "kelce is like, so cute tho! i really hope they come over here!!"

that would be your last wish. there is no way you'd want rafe Cameron and his stuck-up friends to come over here. rafe, ugh, he would just look at you, thinking of some snarky comment to say. with his annoying, stupid, gorgeous, soft, lips. huh?

their swooning quickly settled over. "im gonna go order a snack or something" you mumbled to your friends. you stood up, and made your way over to order. you took notice to the familiar cute taller boy standing next to you, waiting on an order. perhaps you'd seen him in one of your classes before

for some reason, you felt a little confident today. wanting to spark up a conversation, you turned your head over to him. "hey, i think I've seen you before?" he looked to you, before his lips quickly raised into a smile. "yeah, you go to [school name] too! i think we have some classes together!" his face lit up, as you two conversed getting to know each other a little.

he flirted a little, you flirted back, and before he picked up his order, he gave you his number. unbeknownst to you, rafe was watching you the whole time. he felt his fists tighten into a ball, feeling furious as he watched the boy smile at you.

who the fuck was he to be talking to you like that? and who the fuck were you to be whoring yourself out to him. it was just a conversation, right, but he thought he made it clear, you were his.

rafe quickly stood up when he saw you headed toward the bathroom, "gotta piss guys," he said quickly departing from his table.

he jogged a little to catch up to you, grabbing your arm and pushing you into the bathroom.

you gasped, ready to scream at the sudden ambush, but rafe quickly slapped his hand onto your mouth. when you saw it was him, you were a little relieved. then you remembered it was rafe cameron, and returned to your state of panic.

"did you forget what I told you? hm? last time in the hallway?" his voice was highlighted with fury, your mind quickly pinning what he was talking about. the memory replaying "you're only my slut, kay?" his voice echoing in your head. you shoved his hand off you, catching your breath.

"what the fuck, rafe? are you insane?" panting, thinking that he truly must've lost it. "holy, we literally just talked, that's it." you shouldn't have been defending yourself, he had no right to an answer. he looked at you with confusion, placing his hands behind his head.

"y-you just talked? really, so, you didnt get his number or anything." you couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth "if i did is that your business? are you stalking me or something?" you shoved him backwards, making him stumble and continued your rant.

"also, i don't remember you being my boyfriend or anything. you've also been having fun with your fair share of chicks isn't that right?" he went silent, anger fueling up.

"nothing to say now? c'mon you had a lot to say to me before, fucking dragging me into a bathroom." rafe opened his mouth, trying to find the right words but just ending up stuttering in his fake confidence

"right, how could I forget, you're just a pussy. always will be." laughing in his face, watching the way his lip quivered very seemingly furious. "don't fucking call me a pussy. 'm not a pussy." his fists balled at his side.

"mmm, no i think you are baby. too pussy to talk to me normally, too pussy to ask me out, too pussy to fuck me?" the way you spoke made him almost forget he was supposed to be in control.

rafe finally grabbed you, eager to shut you up. you yelped and knew you were gonna get what you wanted. he slammed you over onto the sink of the bathroom, roughly grabbing your ass. "god, y'just don't know when to stop talking." he groaned into your ear while unbuckling his pants.

you bit your lip, hiding a giggle. he pulled down your pants, and harshly slapped your ass. "fuck, that hurts!" you squeaked, but he barely heard you. "it hurts? im gonna make you hurt a lot worse sweetheart."

it was almost unbelievable how aroused you were hearing him talk to you like that, and when rafe pulled your panties aside, he was also in disbelief. "damn, you're wet." letting out a moan in response as he put two fingers inside you.

"fuuuck you're even tighter than the first time, can't wait to break you in" humping back into his hand, your patience faltering.

he quickly pulled his fingers out, shoving his boxers down and spitting onto his dick. you looked up into the mirror, watching him jerk himself off before meeting his tip to your entrance.

you felt a slight burn when he first shoved his tip in, the penetration feeling odd and uncomfortable. "ngh, oh my-" gasping, when he slowly shoved his length more and more into you.

rafe had to resist the urge to fully slam into you, but he wasn't that mean. when he finally was fully into you, he moaned so loudly into your ear. "you're squeezing me so tight babe"

the uncomfortableness quickly turned to pleasure as he started off slowly pacing into you, and you knew it wouldn't last long before he started slamming in and out of you.

quickening his pace, you could feel the counter of the sink digging into your hips. your fingers tightened around the countertop, rafe's roughness pushing you into it everytime he fucked into you.

rafe latched his hand onto your hair, yanking your head back. "look at how well you're taking me, fuck!" your eyes were forced up to the mirror, looking at the unreal scene in front of you.

the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and groans. his cock doing unexplainable things to you, you felt yourself black out when your high was nearing.

"oh my- rafe, fuck, rafe im close" blabbering, as your vision went out only feeling him inside of you. "yea? cum on my dick princess"

his eyes were focus on the mirror, how good you looked being fucked out of your mind. he should've lasted a little longer, but with a girl like you he could cum in his pants. not the first time it's happened.

his breathing was heavy, hearing your moans made his cock twitch inside of you. he was sooo close, unable to hold himself back.

you felt yourself cum all over his dick, your sight returning as your brain started functioning again, heavy in ecstasy. he kept slamming into you, aware that he was close.

"m' close, so close baby" groaning out, his grip on your waist was harsh. "yea? cum inside me rafe." you said with a stern tone, a tone that made him release in seconds, his cum shooting up into you.

slowing down, he pulled out and watching your shared semen drip out of you. he grabbed a paper towel, and cleaned you up with minimum effort.

you finally picked yourself up from your bent position, knowing you would have some bruises next morning. pulling your pants up, and turning around to face him.

he looked up at you, heart beating a little faster when you stepped over to him.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing his jaw "maybe you're not as pussy as i thought" you giggled into his ear, grabbing his face and kissing him before walking out of the bathroom.

it couldn't get better than this for rafe cameron. the woman of his dreams, but it wasn't that easy to work it out.

part 1 , part 2(≽^•˕• ྀི≼)

i think this will be the last part, sorry im not as active but please give feedback <3