#which is about how long it’s been since i’ve written smut

[venusianelf]

Bunny and Her Ghosts

Pairing: Billy Loomis x F! Reader x Stu Macher

Genre: Smut

Summary: Your darkest, most secret desires come true, when you wake up to two masked killers standing over you at an otherwise boring party.

Warnings: Dark Fic, Corruption/Innocence Kink, Dumbification Kink, Knifeplay, Unprotected Sex (Use protection irl please), Blood Kink, Mask Kink, Uses of Daddy and Sir, Weed and Alcohol Consumption, Predator/Prey Kink, Dacryphilia, Double Penetration (PiV & Anal), Mentions of death (Of Sidney, Gale, Others Implied, No Major Character Death), Overstimulation, Biting, Humiliation, Praise and Light Degradation, Tummy Bulge, Creampie, Choking, Reader is about as mentally and morally fucked up as Billy and Stu, Billy and Stu are an established couple

Word Count: ~5,300

A/N: Apparently I’m in a writing mood lol, also this is my longest fic I’ve written in one sitting now, fellow ghostface fuckers enjoy :)

!!By clicking read more you are agreeing you are 18+!!

You weren’t sure how your friends managed to convince you to come to this party. Well you did technically, offering free booze and weed while watching horror movies? Count you in. You weren’t anticipating this many people to be here though. You covered yourself a little tighter with your jacket as you tried to focus on the horror movie on screen and Randy’s ramblings about horror movies rules, instead of the crowd of people that seemed to be throughout the house. Taking a sip of your beer, you cringed at the taste. Whoever had bought the beer had obviously opted for the cheapest option, but whatever, as long as it took the edge off your social anxiety. 

You sighed in relief as most of the crowd rushed out of the house at the announcement of a body at the school. You wondered vaguely where Tatum had gone, it had been a bit since she’d left the room. Honestly, you were too high and tipsy to really think about it too long though. You glanced at Randy, who was the only one left on the couch with you, he seemed more out of it than you, which surprised you but not by much. You stood up for a moment and stretched, since you’d been on the couch for a while. “Hey, where are you going?” Randy slurred as you headed out of the room. “I’m going to the bathroom real quick,” You replied, careful not to say you’d be right back after his lecture about it earlier. He nodded in response and you headed upstairs to use Stu’s bathroom, you hoped he wouldn’t mind, you two were fairly close friends after all, and you weren’t very keen on using the bathroom downstairs that all the drunk party goers had been using all night. 

After using the bathroom, you looked in the mirror as you touched up your makeup. Brushing some smudged eyeliner away, you heard a muffled scream from downstairs. You paused for a second but brushed it off as someone probably getting jumpscared from the scary movie playing downstairs. You sighed as you thought about your friends, you loved yeah, but they got on your nerves sometimes. Like how they had invited you to this party with so many people, knowing how much you hated big crowds. In your hazy state, as you exited the bathroom, you glanced at Stu’s bed and decided that maybe laying down for a minute would help you decompress a little. Climbing onto the bed, you curled up on your side and let yourself relax for a moment.

Hearing voices nearby, you stirred from your accidental nap. “Look, she’s waking up,” you vaguely heard as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. The voice didn’t sound familiar, oddly more deep and robotic than any of your friends. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” A similar but not the same voice said as you blinked your eyes open. “Huh?” You replied as you realized you were looking at two people wearing the costume Sidney had described the killer wearing. You tilted your head at that, you were pretty sure it was just your friend group left in the house, and you didn’t think they’d made such a tasteless joke with Sidney around. Though you couldn’t deny the almost unperceivable shiver that ran through you from their masks. “Guys, you might want to make sure Sidney doesn’t see that, she’d freak,” You said as you moved to prop yourself to sit up on the bed. “Sidney, Sidney, doesn’t matter what the whore would think anymore,” One of the two said as confusion crossed your face. “Aw look at that, she doesn’t even realize her friends bodies are laying downstairs,” The other voice teased, and you felt even more confused until you realized the small dots on the face on the masks were red. 

Blood, you realized, is what was covering them. As it dawned on you, you scrambled back on the bed until your back hit the bed frame. “Now she gets it,” The first voice chuckled as the second ghostface moved towards the bed, catching one of your ankles in their gloved hand and yanking you further down the bed towards him. You squeaked out in surprise as the ghostface above you chuckled at your reaction. “You’re the one in my bed, little girl, don’t act so surprised,” He teased at your shocked expression. It took you a moment to process, but you realized he had said you were in his bed, meaning the killer above you was- “Stu?” You asked as he chuckled and with his free hand not on your ankle ripped the mask off. “The one and only babydoll,” He said with a chuckle and eyebrow wiggle. Your gaze flickered between Stu and the other ghostface as he came closer to you to join Stu. 

“You didn’t need to reveal yourself to her, dumbass,” The still masked ghostface criticized to Stu. Stu rolled his eyes at that. “Yeah, but did you see the look of shock on her face? Worth it,” He explained, and you felt your tummy flutter at the way the two of them talked about you like you weren’t right in front of them. The still masked ghostface studied you before sighing. “C’mon we need to just kill her,” He said as Stu made a boo’ing noise. Your eyes widened at the masked ghostface’s words as the gravity of the situation dawned on you. “And waste the chance of such a pretty thing in my bed?” He whined as the ghostface groaned in annoyance. “Really?” He asked, exasperated, as your gaze flew back to Stu from his previous words. As much as the situation was fucked up, you still felt your cheeks warm at hearing one of your closest friends insinuating he wanted more than just friendship with you. You had always thought him and your friend Billy were hot, but they were both taken. 

The gentle massaging from Stu on the ankle brought you back to reality as you realized Stu was looking at you with an expectant and hungry gaze. “She wasn’t even paying attention,” The ghostface commented as your gaze flickered to his mask. “I- ‘M sorry,” You stuttered out in apology, your submissive scared demeanor causing the ghostface to cuss under his breath. “He said, you’ll be good for us if we give you a chance to earn your life, right?” The ghostface reiterated and you nodded rapidly. While yes, you were willing to whatever you could to save your life, you also couldn’t deny the growing need in your tummy from the situation. “Use your words, pretty girl,” Stu said as you looked up at him with your doe eyes. “Yes, I’ll be good for you two,” You rushed out as you watched Stu’s eyes darken at your eagerness and heard the ghostface groan. 

You watched as Stu reached forward with his free hand and caressed your cheek, smudging some blood along your face. You leaned into his touch as your eyes fluttered shut before feeling something cold and sharp trace along your collar bone. Snapping your eyes open, you looked down to see the ghostface tracing a knife along your skin. The sharp blade so close to your neck sent a shiver of fear and also arousal through you as you gasped at the sensation. “Fuck, she’s into it,” The ghostface muttered, seeming fascinated by your reaction as Stu giggled gleefully. “I told you she was perfect, man,” Stu giggled, and you briefly wondered when him and the other killer had talked about you before. “There’s still time to for you to be wrong,” The ghostface said as he trailed the knife down to your tank top and cut the strap of it. You looked between the two of them, and Stu smiled at you gleefully and darkly, while the ghostface seemed focused on moving to cut the other strap of your tank top. 

As the fabric gave away when he cut it, your top fell a little, giving them a better look at your cleavage. You heard Stu wolf whistle as the ghostface sucked in a breath. The two of them leaned back to look over you, Stu left his hand encircled on your ankle to keep you from running away. “Do you want to play this the safe way or the fun way, bunny?” The ghostface asked as you tilted your head at his question. “W-What’s the fun way?” You asked curiously as you watched Stu try to contain his excitement, the ghostface tilt his head slightly. “You run, we catch you, if you try to actually escape we’ll kill you, but if you play along as our prey,” He paused as you watched his head tilt as he checked you out, “Then we’ll give you the most memorable night of your life, and maybe let you live afterward.” Your eyes gleamed in excitement at the idea, you couldn’t deny the thrill building in you at the idea of your darkest, most private fantasizes coming true. 

“The fun way,” You decided as you watched Stu smile widely at your answer. You watched as the ghostface leaned close to you as he dragged the tip of his knife under your chin to tilt your head up towards him, “Then get running.” You felt Stu’s grip leave your ankle as vaguely registered him slipping his mask back on. You quickly leaped off the bed and ran out the door frame before pausing and looking back at them as one of them waved his knife at you, almost like a wave. Turning back around, you dashed off into the house. Looking down the stairs, you suddenly recognized the bodies of your friends and even that one reporter chick lying in cold blood on the floor. You gasped but moved towards one of the other rooms upstairs, the fear from knowing they were serious about being killers only heightening your sick excitement. 

“Ready or not, here we come,” You heard one of them call out as you held your hand against your mouth, muffling your breathing as you hid in a wardrobe you found in one of the bedrooms. You listened as you heard the two distinct set of footsteps wander around the house. “I hope I find her first,” You heard one giggle through the modulator, which you figured was probably Stu. “Shut up and find her then,” The other replied, which you could make out more clearly due to his closer proximity. Hearing the doorknob of the room you are in twist open as the footsteps got closer to you, you decided to hold your breath as you heard him searching for you. His knife you recognized was tapping along various surfaces in the room as he searched. “You in here bunny?” He called out as you bit back your excited giggle. Apparently not well enough when you heard his steps pause as if he was listening for you. 

You gasped behind your hand when the door to the wardrobe flung open, “Well, well, look what we have here.” Your eyes widened at being caught before you quickly squeezed past him to run from him. You squeaked when his arm came out across your chest and pulled your back into his chest. “Nuh uh, you’re mine now, bunny. I caught you fair and square,” He chuckled at your labored and excited breathing as you struggled against him weakly. His knife moving to trace your neck and chest again as you gasped, your head falling backwards against his chest as your eyes shut. “Little bunny likes getting hunted, huh?” He asked as condescendedly laughed at your reaction. “Uh huh,” You replied, attempting to catch your breath, to which he tsk’d at. “You know better, use your words,” He chastised, to which you nodded submissively in response to. “Yes sir,” You gasped as his knife nicked your collar bone lightly. He groaned in response before shoving you on the bed in the room. You looked up at him in surprise from his actions as he tilted his head while looking at you. “Take off your top,” He said, gesturing to it with his knife. You quickly complied, tearing your top off as he groaned appreciatively at the revelation you weren’t wearing a bra. 

Seeing your bare skin and tits, he climbed onto the bed and on top of you. You held your breath in anticipation before he took your chin in the grasp of his free hand, smudging some of the blood on his hands onto your skin. “Open that pretty mouth, bunny,” He demanded, and you opened your mouth compliantly in response. You could almost sense his smirk under the mask before you felt the cold and metallic taste of his knife on your tongue. “Clean it up,” He ordered as you began licking it, the coppery taste blooming on your tongue before you realized it was still covered in the blood of your dead friends downstairs. You moaned at the realization, the sick pleasure spreading throughout you as you cleaned off the knife. You could hear his breathing pickup as he realized you were also getting off on it. “What a naughty little bunny you are, getting off on the blood of your dead friends,” He chuckled as you blushed from him calling you out. He pressed the tip of the blade down on your tongue just enough for you to feel the sharpness but not enough to cut you. You squirmed under him at the sensation but tried to stay still enough so you wouldn’t accidentally nick yourself. 

He shook his head in disbelief before pulling the knife out of your mouth and trailing it down your neck to your chest. “Man! Where is she?” You heard Stu call out as you giggled under the ghostface on top of you. Hearing your giggle, Stu came to the room the two of you were in before gasping. “Unfair! You found her first?” He whined, but you could tell through his mask that his gaze was excitedly trained on the position the two of you were in. “Shut up,” The ghostface on top of you groaned, but his tone conveyed more playful annoyance than real frustration. Stu walked over to the two of you before circling to the other side of the bed and stood behind where your head laid on the bed. “Now the fun starts,” Stu giggled as the ghostface on top of you moved his knife to gesture at Stu. “The fun has already started,” He replied, before Stu shrugged. “You know what I mean man,” He responded to which you giggled underneath the ghostface on top of you at their bickering. 

The ghostface on top of you snapped his gaze down to you at the giggling. “Enjoying the show, bunny?” He asked which you nodded in reply. “Well it’s about to get a whole lot better!” Stu exclaimed, to which the ghostface on top of you glanced at Stu before looking back down at you. “Let’s see how you like the reveal,” He chuckled before reaching up and ripping off his mask. You gasped as you realized your second hunter had been Billy. Thinking about it a little harder, you realized that would make sense from what you picked up on so far, but you couldn’t help but feel your panties get wetter at the realization. “Billy?” You asked with wide eyes as his dark gaze trained on you. “Yep,” He replied, you saw out of the corner of your eye Stu taking his mask off too. You blushed from realizing just much your most secret fantasizes were coming true. Billy raised an eyebrow at your reaction before glancing up at Stu. “Guess you were right about her attraction to us,” He commented, and Stu giggled. “Yeah dude, I have eyes, so it was fucking obvious,” He replied, to which Billy glared at Stu for. You felt yourself blush harder at Stu saying you were obvious about your attraction to them. 

Billy glanced down at you before chuckling. “No need to be shy about it, bunny,” He said as he began tracing circles around one of your nipples. You gasped and arched up into the sensation. “Look at that man, she’s a fucking freak,” Stu giggled excitedly at your reaction. Embarrassment flooded you at Stu’s words as you shut your eyes. “Nuh uh, Look at me,” Billy chastised as his knife moved to tap on your cheek. You opened your eyes and fought to keep them on Billy. “That’s a good girl,” He praised as you felt yourself melt from his words. Seeing your reaction, Billy tossed the knife beside you two before grasping your chin harshly and pulling you into a rough kiss. You gasped in surprise at his sudden and harsh kiss, which he took as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. Which quickly turned you into a squirming, flustered mess. When he pulled back, a string of spit connected you for a moment before, it broke, which Stu groaned at. “Man, I’m tired of waiting,” Stu whined, which Billy seemed to contemplate for a moment before nodding. 

“You’re right, we’ve waited long enough,” He replied before looking down at your skirt, he quickly found the zipper to it before tossing your skirt off of you. You could vaguely see out of the corner of your vision Stu messing with his own clothes as Billy picked the knife back up from beside you and quickly cut the sides of your panties before tossing the scrap of cloth somewhere else in the room. You gasped at the sudden move and moved to close your thighs, but Billy stopped you with his free hand moving to your inner thigh. Billy hummed appreciatively at the view. “Damn, you should see how wet she is,” Billy groaned as Stu giggled. “You wet for the two of us, princess?” Stu asked rhetorically, but you nodded enthusiastically anyway. Billy raised his eyebrow at you, reminding you of his preference for you to use your words. “Y-Yes daddy, I am,” You replied in response to Stu, which made him groan at your choice of words. “Fuck,” He swore under his breath as Billy’s eyes darkened too. 

You choked on a moan in surprise when you felt Billy’s finger suddenly brush against your clit. You could feel both of their predatory gazes on your form as Billy studied your reactions to find the best ways to get the reactions he wanted from you. You faintly registered Stu as one of his hands brushed his fingers through your hair before his fingers from his other hand tap on your lips. “Open up princess,” He ordered, and you complied willingly, and he groaned at your eager response. Stu grasped your hair, making you gasp before tapping his cock that he freed when you weren’t paying attention against your lips. “C’mon baby, suck it for daddy,” He groaned as you fluttered your eyes shut as you began licking and sucking the tip of his dick.

You could feel Billy’s eyes trained on the interaction in front of him, as Stu pushed his dick further into your throat, making you choke and gag momentarily before you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. Stu gave you a moment to adjust before you began eagerly sucking him, and he began moving along with your movements. You could hear him groaning above you before you moaned around his dick when you felt Billy suddenly insert a finger into you. “Fuck, whatever you just did, keep doing it,” Stu moaned out to Billy, which got him a glare you couldn’t see, but Billy continued his movements regardless. Once Billy felt you loosen up, he added an addition finger as he continued using his thumb to rub your clit. He had you moaning all over Stu’s cock, causing Stu to throw his head back from the sensation. You could feel the pricks of pleasure beginning to build up in you as they continued. As you began squeezing Billy’s fingers, he groaned. “She’s close,” He commented, which made Stu also groan. “Go on bunny, give it to us,” Billy encouraged as you felt your peak hit you. You moaned loudly at the feeling, causing you to tense and squeeze his fingers as the bright, hot pleasure coursed through you. Billy continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm as you shook. 

You heard Stu groan and his dick twitch before feeling the saltiness of his cum cover your tongue and throat. Once the two of you came down, you felt him pull himself from your throat. Billy grabbed your chin with his hand and tilted it towards him as your eyes fluttered open, his fingers covered in your slick moving to tap at your lips which you happily licked and sucked cleaning, making Billy groan at the erotic sight. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he squeezed your jaw to open your mouth to check you had swallowed both you and Stu’s cum. “Good girl,” He praised at the sight of your clean mouth. You gasped when you felt hands drop to your hips and pull you to align you to his cock that you didn’t know when he had untucked from his clothes. “Ah! Wait!” You called out in protest from still feeling extra sensitive. You saw his eyes darken a fraction instead before he pushed into you, your head falling back against the bed as you choked on a moan.

“I told you we had already waited long enough,” He said, punctuating his words with thrusts, not giving you time to adjust. Stu groaned from behind you as his gaze fixed on the way your tits bounced with Billy’s thrusts. “Fuck man, I just finished, watching you two is gonna get me hard again,” He grumbled. “Not my fucking problem,” Billy bit back as struggled from the tightness of your cunt gripping him. You whined and squirmed from the overstimulation which Billy chuckled at. “You can take it, bunny,” He commented before groaning as his gaze caught sight of the bulge in your tummy from where he was fucking you. “Fuck, look at that,” He said as one of his hands moved to push down on the bulge, making you gasp and writhe. “Shit,” You heard Stu groan as he caught sight of your tummy bulge from Billy. “Your cunt was fucking made for us, wasn’t it?” Billy asked as you found yourself unable to reply. “Aw, did we already fuck you, stupid bunny?” He teased as your doe-eyed gaze caught his, and you nodded submissively in response. The two of them groaned at your response, and you felt Billy’s dick twitch inside you. “I know you have another orgasm in you. C’mon milk my cock for me baby,” Billy demanded as his hand that had been on the bulge moved down to play with your clit, making you whine against the overstimulation.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you gasped and struggled against the waves of painful pleasure, feeling the coil within yourself grown tighter and tighter before it snapped. You felt tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the intense orgasm as you spasmed on Billy’s cock, making him moan out. It wasn’t long before you felt him twitch before he bit into your shoulder as you felt his warm cum spill into your wet cunt. You sobbed against the intense sensations as he fucked you both through your orgasms. Once he stilled in you, you fought to catch your breath, to which you heard Stu giggle above the both of you. “Goddamn, you made her cry,” He commented to which Billy leaned up over you again looking down at your wet face before groaning. “Fuck,” He swore, and you felt his cock start to harden inside of you again, which made you gasp.

You sighed in relief for a moment when you felt Billy pull out of you, before whimpering when you heard his next words. “Your turn,” He said, nodding to Stu. Stu giggled excitedly before crawling on the bed with you two. Billy moved you and him so he was behind you leaning against the bed frame and Stu was in front of you. Your head limply laid against Billy’s chest as Stu looked over your fucked out body. “Shit, look at her,” Stu giggled before leaning down, so his face was level with your cunt, you blinked open your eyes just to see him and whined knowing your pleasurable torture was soon to continue. Billy chuckled at your reaction and brushed your hair off your back and over your shoulder as he placed surprisingly soothing kisses against your shoulders. Your eyes shut as you moaned out when you felt Stu lick up Billy’s cum dripping out of you.

Stu experimentally probed his tongue into you as he pulled out more of Billy’s cum to lap up. It faintly occurred to you that the two of them had probably fucked each other before. Stu groaned at the taste before moving to circle your clit with his tongue, choking your thoughts and losing yourself again to the intense pleasure. “Ngh- Please,” You sobbed which made Stu groan, the feeling making your sob turn into a moan as he sucked onto your clit, his hands grasping at your thighs and trying to pull you ever closer. “Please what?” Billy asked from behind you as he began sucking hickeys into the crook of your neck. “Please,” You choked out, too far gone to know what you were begging for anymore. Billy chuckled against your neck at your broken pleas. “I think she wants to cum again, Stu,” He commented, which made Stu eat you out with even more fervor than before. You sobbed at the familiar feeling of your orgasm creeping up on you for the third time. You tensed as you felt the pleasurable coil overstimulate you as you approached the edge. “C’mon baby, cum for us,” Billy commanded as you sobbed broken moans as you fell over the edge again. Stu groaned from between your thighs as you tasted your new wave of slick. You cried as Stu carried you through your orgasm. Your sobs picking up as you came down, and your sensitivity kicked in extra hard. Stu pulled back covered in your slick, and you felt Billy lift his head from where he had been busy sucking hickeys onto your skin to look at Stu. You fluttered your eyes open in time to catch them exchanging gazes before Stu leaned towards Billy and Billy grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. Billy groaned at the mixed taste of your slick and Stu’s saliva. You watched in awe as they made out. 

When they pulled back, Stu looked over at you before giggling, “What? Surprised?” He asked, to which you just looked at him with starry eyes. Billy raised an eyebrow behind you at your lack of response. “Man, I think we fucked her out of words. She’s looking at me like I hung the stars,” Stu giggled, which made Billy groan. “You got one more round in you, bunny?” Billy asked from behind you, and you hummed affirmatively in response as you leaned back against him. You didn’t see the look Billy gave Stu, but Stu shuffled to move your thighs so he could line himself up with your entrance. You moaned as you felt Stu fill you to the brim in one harsh thrust. Stu moved to kiss along your neck, licking up some dried blood from what had been smudged on you earlier. You gasped when you felt Billy’s fingers prod at your backside. “Relax baby,” You heard Billy purr in your ear, so you did your best to relax your muscles as his fingertip prodded into you. 

You gasped and whined as you felt him slowly prepping you, while Stu stayed as still as he could. After a few moments, you felt a second finger creep up to join the first. You arched at the still new sensation to you. Billy chuckled at your reaction before continuing to prep you. Once he deemed you ready, he pulled his fingers from you, causing you to whine at the loss. “It’s okay bunny, you’ll be full again soon,” Billy whispered as the tip of his dick prodded at your back entrance. As he pushed into you, you gasped and squirmed. “Shit, she’s getting even tighter,” Stu groaned out as Billy slowly continued filling you up. Once Billy bottomed out in you, you squirmed as you adjusted to the sensation. Eventually, you started gasping and squirming, looking for more. “Ah, there we go,” Billy cooed as he felt you looking for more pleasure from them. 

At that Billy began thrusting into you, making you moan, but when Stu also began you moving your mind started swimming. You felt like you were drowning in the pleasure they were giving you. Billy hands rested on your waist and Stu’s on your thighs as they fucked you in tandem. Your hands reached out around the back of Stu’s neck as you clawed at his back, making Stu moan from the mix of pleasure and pain. You felt incredibly full from both of them inside of you. “Fuck, man,” Stu swore as you felt one of his hands leave your thigh to press on the even bigger bulge in your tummy than before. He moved to grab one of Billy’s hands and moved it to the bulge, making Billy groan as well. Billy’s hand moved away from the bulge and trailed up to your throat as Stu kept his hand pressed on the bulge, deeping the fullness you were reeling from. “One more, bunny, one more,” Billy commanded as his hand rested on your throat before he applied pressure, your moans getting choked into broken sobs and gasping for air. You tightened around them both as pleasure surged through you, and you fought for air. Just as you were about to peak, Billy released his grasp and oxygen flooded through you, making you cum and sob on their cocks. 

“Just like that, fuck,” Billy groaned as Stu twitched before painting your insides white from your fluttering cunt gripping him so tightly. Stu moaned and buried his head in your neck as Billy’s head fell back against the headboard as he also let go and buried his dick in you, letting you milk his cum as he shot rope after rope into you. You gasped and whined at how stuffed you felt. They fucked you through your combined orgasms before they stilled in you. You felt Billy press a tender kiss against your head as Stu cuddled into you, and you pulled him closer with your arms around the back of his neck. After several moments, you wet your lips before attempting to speak. “Did I do good?” You asked leaning into their touches as Billy and Stu chuckled. “You did perfect,” Billy said, calling back to when Stu said you’d be perfect. You smiled lazily at that. “Don’t think we’re letting you go anywhere now, though,” Stu replied, squeezing you for emphasis. You felt Billy nod in agreement behind you. “Why would I want to go anywhere else?” You asked genuinely confused by the idea that you’d try to run away from them. Billy chuckled before placing another tender kiss to your shoulder blades. “Damn, you’re just as crazy as us, huh?” He teased to which you giggled at. “Maybe,” You replied, letting comfort wash over you, your two new lovers may be serial killers, but their arms felt like the best place in the world to you.

[softnow]

I need more of your Mulder dirty talking to Scully pleasse

she has never enjoyed her lovers talking during sex. she has always hated their stock grunts of yeah, you like that? and oh baby, i’m gonna make you scream, like every man she’s ever slept with attended the same seminar on dirty talk and only made notes on the most boring points. she hates the way grown men say pussy, because they say it like they’re thirteen and just learned the word, are giddy on the high of saying something foreign and illicit. she doesn’t enjoy feeling illicit, at least not like that, and she doesn’t enjoy being reminded of adolescence when she’s naked on her back.

she’s gotten creative over the years, learned how to stifle men before they can ruin a great—okay, good—okay, passable—thing. a well-placed hand, a well-timed kiss, a tug on the hair to bring a mouth to her neck, her breast. more than once, she’s murmured, can we not talk? in their ear, and it should be sad, how often that works, how eager men are to not have to communicate.

well, most men.

“you’re going to get me fired.”

she is perched on his desk—her desk—the desk—and he is between her parted thighs, the stiff fabric of his slacks deliciously rough on her bare skin. her panty hose lay in a crumbled ball beside the filing cabinet, and the first three buttons of her white blouse are undone. he fiddles with number four as he speaks against her mouth.

“i couldn’t pay attention at all in that meeting,” he says, his breath warm on her tongue. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you, like this.”

the fourth button slides free, and the pads of his fingertips graze the valley between her breasts.

“it’s criminal,” he says, “distracting a federal agent from his duty.”

she hums, too entranced by the low murmur of his voice to think of any words of her own.

his nose glides along hers as he kisses her cupid’s bow ever so softly.

“i should report you.”

his hands drop to her thighs, smoothing up, up over her fevered skin. they dip beneath the hem of her skirt and her stomach contracts at the first brush of his fingers over her cotton panties. he hisses, and she feels the flutter of his eyelashes on her cheek as his eyes fight to stay open.

“so wet,” he whispers, like it’s a marvel that she should be so eager. “you’re soaked for me. aren’t you?”

he traces circles over her damp gusset, fingers gliding easily but without any real pressure, without giving her any relief. her head falls back, lolling on her neck, and she shifts her hips, angling for more friction.

his mouth finds her neck, and she gasps at the force of his bite, right on the tender point of her pulse.

“aren’t. you.” it isn’t a question, and the gravel in his voice makes her whimper.

“yes.”

his fingers slip under the thin cotton and two push into her so swiftly her eyes fly open. he grins at her, and it is wolffish, hungry. the kiss he brushes across her lips is achingly sweet in contrast, gentle and controlled.

“good girl.”

his hand begins to pump, hindered only slightly by the fabric still wrapped between her legs.

“here’s what’s going to happen,” he says as his free hand undoes the rest of her buttons and lifts a breast from the cup of her bra.

he ducks, licks up the underside before drawing her aching nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. her back arches. she pumps against the hand moving inside her.

he keeps himself busy at her breast for so long that she thinks he’s lost his train of thought, and she tugs at his hair, because as good as he is with his mouth doing that, there’s something she likes even better.

his smile is wicked when he meets her eyes.

“what?”

he knows what, smug bastard, but the fingers massaging her (not foreign, not illicit) pussy are too good for her to play around.

“tell me.”

“tell you?”

she rolls her hips against his hand and tightens the hand in his hair. she would never tell him how much she likes it when he makes her work for it. she’s pretty sure he already knows.

“tell me,” she gasps, “what’s going to happen.”

his thumb finds her clit and he braces her as she collapses back, holds her tight against his chest so he can speak directly into her ear.

“what’s going to happen,” he says, “is you’re going to fuck yourself on my hand like this until you come. and then i’m going to get down on my knees and clean up this mess you’re making all over my desk.”

he curls his fingers and her hips twitch harder. she clutches at his dress shirt, digs for purchase as her belly clenches so hard it nearly hurts.

“and then i’m going to take you home,” he kisses her earlobe, “and spread you out on the bed,” her jaw, “and bury my cock so deep in this sweet little pussy that you’ll still be feeling me tomorrow.”

he caresses each syllable as skillfully as he’s caressing her, his voice rich and honeyed and so self-possessed, her eyes cross.

“how’s that sound?”

he traces her cheekbone with his nose, tickling her sweaty skin with his breath.

“good,” she gasps, bucking against him, clutching at him, her body trying to heave away and climb closer all at once. “it sounds—ah—so—good.”

[sugarcoated-lame]

Easy Like Sunday Morning | Joel Miller x Reader

pre-outbreak joel x reader

all of my works are 18+ only, minors dni!

Summary: You wake up before Joel and decide you want to take care of him.

or

giving 2003 pre-outbreak Joel some head on a sleepy Sunday morning

a/n: i was inspired by this post by the amazing @mrsmando 🤍 and her delicious joel thoughts that never fail to have me spiraling and swooning 🫠 if i had a nickel for every time i’ve written a joel fic about someone being woken up with some head, i’d have two nickels. which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice (sorry i had to lmfaoo). also this is probably the quickest thing i’ve ever written, so i’m sorry if it sucks!

wc: 2.8k

content warnings: no outbreak/pre-outbreak 2003 joel, kricket sucks at writing summaries we know this, smut, oral (m receiving), slightly rough oral, hair pulling, no physical description of reader except that her hair is long enough for joel to pull, pet names (darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl), no use of y/n, joel miller has a big dick because i said so, established relationship, somno (kinda? joel is like not really awake at the beginning of the smut), this is basically just smut :)

joel masterlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

⋆ . ˚ ✩ comments, reblogs, and feedback are greatly appreciated! ⋆ . ˚ ✩

Lazy Sunday mornings have become your favorite in the weeks since you moved in with Joel.

Nowhere to be, neither one of you has to get up before the sun and go to work. No rushing around to make sure Sarah gets to school on time — just sleep. It’s the one day a week both you and Joel get a chance to sleep in, to wake naturally without the shrill ringing of alarms, and just relish being wrapped up in the comfort of each other’s presence.

Eyes still shut as you begin to stir, your mind is only just waking up and the first thing you feel is warmth.

Warmth of the bright, golden Texas sun shining through Joel’s — well, now your — bedroom window and behind your closed lids. Warmth from the plush, gray comforter draped just over your calves, where it had been kicked down in the night in an attempt to curb the relentless, sticky summer heat.

You find yourself cocooned by the furnace-like warmth that is Joel as he lies on his back beside you — a warmth that would probably be overwhelming if it wasn’t such a comfort to you.

Your cheek is pressed to his broad chest, the steady beating of his heart a calming rhythm beneath your ear. Your torso flush against his side, you have an arm wrapped snug around his middle, and a leg draped over both of his. You and Joel both lay almost bare, each clothed in nothing but your underwear after the previous night’s activities — hot skin on hot skin.

When you finally let your eyes flutter open to the bright, morning light, you look up to find Joel still fast asleep and take a moment to admire the peaceful expression on his handsome face.

Long lashes fanning over his cheeks, his brows free of the worried crease that often rests between them, plush pink lips parted as he lets out quiet little snores, his strong chest slowly rising and falling, up and down beneath your cheek with each calming breath. Tanned skin warm and glistening with a light sheen of sweat, dark chocolate locks especially curly due to the humid Texas heat, a few sweaty strands clinging to his forehead.

Seeing Joel laid out like this only reminds you of the way he looked last night — all flushed beneath you, cheeks pink, head thrown back and brown eyes clenched shut in bliss as you hovered above him. Pulling quiet, deep grunts from his parted lips as you rode him, his big hands on your hips, guiding your movements as you lifted yourself up and down on his cock.

The reminder of just how full you felt with him inside you — of how goddamn good he makes you feel — has dampness forming beneath the thin fabric of your panties, thighs attempting to clench shut in search of friction to quell the wave of slick that’s building between your legs, though they’re unable to do so with Joel’s thick thigh slotted between them.

And, though you know Joel is still resting so peacefully beside you, and that you should probably let him sleep in for once, you can’t help it when you feel the sudden and urgent need to kiss him. To feel your lips on his skin.

These lazy Sunday mornings with Joel are your favorite because you know he’s always so busy, always working hard, always so stressed. And, that despite it all, he always takes such good care of you.

So, you want to take this opportunity, when he doesn’t have to be up for work, or take Sarah to school — and you know it’s a couple hours before she’ll be waking up — and you want to do something nice for him. Take care of Joel for once. To make him feel good.

Lifting your head from Joel’s chest, you press your lips to where your cheek had just been. Beginning at his pec, and over his heart, tasting the salt of his sweat-damp skin as you work your way up the broad plane of his chest, dotting feather-light kisses up to the juncture of where his shoulder meets his neck.

You gently untangle yourself from his side, and Joel begins to stir just slightly as you softly mouth along the column of his throat and move to hover over him, your thighs straddling his hips and hands on the mattress on either side of him to hold yourself up.

He’s still mostly asleep, but you can already feel through the layers of both of your underwear that he’s beginning to harden beneath you, his body waking up faster than his brain, always so responsive to your touch.

You continue to kiss across Joel’s strong jaw, over the patchy hair that tickles your lips, dotting a trail of sweet kisses up his cheek and to the tip of his sharp nose, then back down to his mustache and over the corner of his lips.

He stirs again when your lush lips press against his own just once, not quite awake enough to kiss back just yet, but this time a soft hum of approval leaves him at the pleasant feeling.

With one more peck to his soft lips, you begin your descent back down Joel’s body, leaving behind another smattering of kisses in your wake.

From his Adam’s apple to the rounded bone of his shoulder, then back down to his chest. You know he’s a bit more awake when you feel him begin to stir again — his strong body shifting ever so slightly beneath yours, dick twitching against your core underneath the layers of cloth as you place a barely-there kiss to each of his nipples. Joel lets out a sleepy groan as your tongue darts out to lick at the sensitive skin before continuing on your way.

Shifting your body lower on the bed, your kisses become a bit more feverish, less soft as you work your way down Joel’s torso. Your hunger for him only growing as you get closer and closer to the bulge in his boxers, spurred on by the breathy little grunts and groans leaving his parted lips as his mind begins to catch up to the pleasure that his body is feeling.

Joel lets out a content sigh, head still resting on his pillow, eyes still shut and still about half asleep. Unsure if he’s dreaming when he feels you press a firm kiss to the skin just above his navel.

He’s quickly pulled out of that dream-like state, though — breath catching in his throat, jolting beneath you as your warm tongue darts out lick a broad stripe over his soft belly.

You can’t help but grin as you look up to see his face, those pretty brown eyes now open but still bleary with sleep, pillowy lips parted in a gasp, sweaty curls falling over his forehead as he shifts his focus towards you.

“Morning, baby.” You whisper into the quiet of your bedroom, your chin resting on Joel’s tummy as you gaze up at him sweetly.

Your smile only grows when he cards a hand over his tired face, groaning out a tired ‘fuck’.

Now that he’s awake — just barely — you press your lips to his belly one last time before heading lower. Fitting yourself between Joel’s thick thighs, you kiss along the fine hairs of his happy trail, then his hip bones, and you know he’s fully hard when your hands glide up his thighs to palm him over his black boxers.

Joel releases a throaty groan as you stroke him through the soft fabric, one of his large hands coming up to the side of your head. Calloused pads of his fingers running gently through your bed-mussed hair. “Please, darlin’.”

The use of the pet name combined with Joel’s sleepy, Texan morning voice actually makes you whimper, clenching your thighs as a new gush of arousal floods between them. Needy for him as your fingers move to his waistband, gingerly but quickly pulling down the black, cotton fabric and freeing his impressive length.

A quiet, raspy moan escapes Joel’s lips as you spit into your hand before wrapping it around his cock. He’s long and thick and heavy in your hand, your fingers hardly able to wrap around the girth of him, his tip an angry red and leaking pretty pearls of precum.

He lets out a quiet hiss as you begin to stroke up from the base, leaning down to kiss along his tip before kitten-licking at the slit, a pleased hum leaving you at the salty, heady taste of his arousal. Joel’s mind is still a bit hazy with sleep, but he swears he’s died and gone to heaven when you lick a hot stripe along the underside of his cock, tongue laving over the thick vein that runs along his shaft.

The hand in your hair tightens its grip when you oh-so-delicately take Joel into your mouth, emitting a pleased hum from you as you gently suckle on his tip. The vibration sends a jolt up his spine, cock twitching in your grasp as you continue to stroke up and down his length with increasing ease as your spits begins to coat his skin. Delicate fingers wrapped tight around him moving up and down to meet your lips as your tongue swirls around the bulbous head.

You take your time, enjoying Joel’s quiet, raspy moans, the whispered curses, and shallow breaths all falling from his lips as you slowly take him deeper and deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth.

When you’re about halfway down his length, you suck in your cheeks, lips tightening around him as you begin to suck with more fervor and Joel has to bite back a desperate moan as you bob up and down his length. His hips buck up of their own volition — the feeling of your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him is just too good — the two of you groaning in unison as the movement sends his cock further between your lips, the tip just grazing the back of your throat and causing you to gag around him.

“Fuck, m’sorry, baby.” Joel drawls, gently smoothing a hand over the crown of your head. He lifts you up his length just a little bit, just enough to gather your bearings.

You release him from your mouth with a wet pop. A string of saliva still connects the two of you between his swollen, red tip and your now swollen lips, and Joel thinks he’s a goner when you wrap a hand tight around his shaft, leaning back in to kitten-lick at his slit.

You smear delicate kisses all along his tip, then up and down every inch of his length, all the while gazing up at him with doe eyes before you bring him between your spit-slicked lips once again.

“So good for me. Always so good for me.”

His morning voice is deep — deeper than normal — and it has your eyes rolling back into your head as you whimper around him, tears collecting at your lash line from having just taken him so deep so abruptly. Nodding your head as much as you can with his cock still in your mouth, you let Joel know that you’re okay to keep going.

You want to please him. He deserves this. You want to make him feel good.

You know that Joel is getting close from the way he’s fighting himself to not buck his hips and fuck up into your mouth, the hand that’s not in your hair clinging to the gray sheets like a lifeline. His chest rapidly rising and falling as he tries his hardest to keep at least somewhat quiet — he knows that his daughter is sleeping right down the hall — biting back gravely grunts and groans that you so wish you could hear at full volume, his cock twitching against your tongue with every little move you make.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you decide to take him as deep as you can go. Swallowing around him as his tip reaches into the depths of your throat, those tears are now spilling freely from your eyes as the coarse hairs at his base tickle your nose.

You suction your cheeks taut and lick along the underside of his shaft, the wet sounds of your sucking growing sloppy, Joel’s pubic hairs now shiny with your spit and his fingers are now pulling hard at your hair, the slight sting in your scalp a pleasurable one and only spurring you on.

A particularly harsh suck has Joel throwing his head back onto his pillow, sweaty curls falling like a halo around his pleasure-wrought features. Whiskey colored eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, nose scrunched, and lips parted in a quiet, guttural groan that lingers in the warm, sticky summer atmosphere of your shared bedroom.

“I’m— fuck!” He damn near whimpers when your free hands reaches out to caress his heavy balls, squeezing getnly as you continue to arduously suck and stroke his length, your hand and mouth working in tandem and meeting in the middle. “I’m close, sweetheart.”

You moan hungrily around him, the vibrations nearly sending Joel over the edge, the hand on your head now pushing you down onto his cock without hesitation – he knows you can take it. Hips thrusting up and chasing the velvety, wet warmth of your throat as you gag on him once more, drool spilling out the corners of your mouth all around him, the wet, sucking sounds filling the room obscene.

Joel practically growls when he feels your nails dig into the meat of his thigh, his chin dropping to his chest and he looks down to find you gazing back at him. Your cheeks hollowed, lips stretched around his aching cock, taking all of him like the good girl he knows you are. Your pretty, tear-filled eyes gazing up at him with so much love, and that’s what is his undoing.

You feel it when Joel’s whole body tenses beneath you, fireworks shooting up his spine as he starts to cum with a heavy groan that was lodged deep in his throat. You can’t help but moan around him as he fills your mouth, painting your throat with the hot, salty ropes of his release.

He mutters a string of broken moans, a mixture of curses and grunts of your name as you work him through it. The grip Joel has on your hair starts to lighten up — though, only a bit — but it’s enough for you to pull back on his length a bit to allow your hand to join your mouth in its ministrations. Slowly, but firmly, stroking him and sucking at his cock until you’re sure you’ve swallowed down every drop he has to give you, his stomach practically caving in by the time you’re done with him.

Until he’s reduced to shallow pants and hushed whimpers, Joel’s entire body shuddering as your lips lay one last kiss to his sensitive tip, and he drops an arm over his face, shielding his eyes from the now overwhelming light as he takes a few moments to catch his breath.

You let Joel take all the time he needs to recover, carefully tucking his softening length back into his black boxers.

It’s a few minutes before Joel uncovers his eyes, slowly blinking to adjust the the increasing brightness of the hot summer sun shining into the bedroom, and he’d swear you’re an angel, still nestled between his thighs. You’re busy littering the soft, tanned skin of his thighs and his belly in sweet little kisses and love bites when that deep, sleepy morning voices speaks up again.

“Well good mornin’ to you too, pretty girl.”

Before you can respond, two strong arms are pulling you up the bed — and up Joel’s body, a firm hand on the nape of your neck pulling you in so he can smash his lips to your puffy ones in a longing, appreciative kiss.

His deft hands then slide down your hips to grab your ass, squeezing at the soft flesh with a groan against your lips, before Joel is flipping the two of you over so he’s now the one hovering over you. A little yelp escapes you, but is quickly transformed into a stifled moan as his lips begin kissing a path down your body, now fully awake and more than ready to return the favor.

⋆ . ˚ ✩

⋆ . ˚ ✩

Thank you for reading!! x

[c0ffinshit]

Reach Down (Simon [John Q.] x Reader) SMUT

a/n: hey guys, sorry this project is so rushed. i wanted to get something out since i haven't written anything in a hot minute. so i still hope you like it either way.

word count: 1,391

credit for the idea: @digitalpup444

warning: some poor grammer and spelling, porn with little plot, choking, priase/slight degradation kink, fingering with cunnilingus, dialogue heavy

You were never a huge music fan, and never considered yourself a fan of any given band. Because of this, you never got the hype of band worship, the idea of taking an average person and putting them on the highest level to the point where if they ruin that even slightly their career is over for good. 

That is until you got into the punk band PSYOPS. When the obsession hit, it hit like a bus. Suddenly, you were going to underground shows in gross basements and old warehouses. You were taking old shirts and cutting them up to put custom patches on them. You closely followed the band’s forums, trying to figure out their next show. Of course, the band knew of your existence.  It didn’t take long for you to end up in his truck, talking about what it was like being in a band. As you two talked, you felt a strong pull towards him. He liked making punk music and taking down the big man with lyrics. Toward the end of the car ride, he lit his second cigarette of the night and took off the mask as he pulled up to a house.

You always preferred John Q whenever talking about favorite band members. Something about never seeing his face drew you in him. What did he look like under that ski mask? Who was John Q? But when you finally saw his face covered in sweat from the show a shrug ran through you.

"What?" He asks, opening the driver side’s door to the truck, and shutting it with a thud.

You snap out of your daze for a minute, enough time to open your door and then shut it. "Nothing, don’t worry about it."

He glares at you, flicking his cigarette and pressing it under his boot. "Alright." 

He opens the house’s main door and leads you to his room, which looks like it hasn’t been cleaned. John flops onto his bed and groans loudly. You look around his room, slowly inching into his room. 

He notes this and sits up, watching you stare around his room. "Are you going to sit down? You look tired as fuck."

Your eyes flicker back to him. His boots are placed firmly on the ground and his forearms are just above his knees. It’s oddly sexy how he sits. Then again, he was handsome in general. 

"No, "You finally reply. "I’m fine, I promise."

John tilts his head back, smirking, and stands in your way. "You sure? You look…" His eyes look you up and down. "Tense."

You shake your head. "No, I’m fine. I’m just a big fan of your work and I don’t want to mess anything up-"

"Fuck off. You’re not ruining anything. You’re fine." He steps closer. "I mean that. You’re fine."

He eyes you up again, watching your hands hold each other. Your face slowly rushes with blood as he talks. Most critics would say that he speaks because he likes the sound of his voice, but honestly, it didn’t matter to you; you could listen to him talk for hours about whatever he wanted.

"Are you hitting on me?" You said, taking your hands apart. He snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me closer.

"Do you blame me? I’ve been hitting on you the whole night. " His face comes closer and you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Well, are you going to do something about it?"

"Do you want me to?" He asks, moving one of his hands to hold my chin.

A quick nod of your head and he pulls you in for a kiss. At first, his mouth tastes like licking an ashtray, but as his tongue snakes into your mouth, a faint of cheap beer covers your tongue. Your hands shake as they move up to hold his face. His other hand moves down to your ass, pushing you into his hips. His erection pressed against his thigh as you softly moaned into his mouth. John pulls away for a second, his lips covered in your saliva.

"Take off your shirt." He rushes out as he takes off his jacket.

Once you saw his shirt on the floor, you could feel yourself getting more excited.

You giggle and sloppily take off your shirt. His smirk returns to his face as he looks at your breasts.

"Such a good girl and such a cute bra. May I?" His hand ghosts over your bare skin, running his fingers along the lines of your body.

"Please," You whisper and his hands rush to squeeze at them.

His hands felt rough against your skin. You let parts of your body shine in the lamp near his bed. John’s tan but pale skin was dull and flat, yet was striking against your skin. You let out a small moan as his hands moved lower down your body.

"Take off those pants and get on the bed." He commands in a breathy yet dominant tone.

Your hands push the button and pull at the zipper of your jeans, revealing the cutest pair of the panties you own. Embarrassment sets into your face as you rush onto the bed. John smiles as his eyes look into yours.

"Fuck, you are so cute. For such a good girl, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a needy whore."

You giggle again at the compliment but stop as he slowly crawls onto the bed and in between your legs.

His eyes are dark as he kisses down your left thigh; every kiss is a small noise. "You doing alright?" He places his hand on your body. 

A low groan of approval leaves your mouth. He smirks a little as his hand continues to roam and his mouth continues to move downwards. "Good." 

He would’ve never figured you would be so sensitive. You lean forward and kiss his head, causing him to look up. He finally looks at you again, his first glance in a while. His hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead. John has one of those stares that makes you shiver and squirm in your seat with pleasure. His face comes down to your throbbing heat, a small patch of slick waiting for him.

"Exicited were we?" He said with a small chuckle, kissing it right on the patch.

It was things like that that sent shivers up your spine. His fingers hook around the lining of your panties, slowly pulling them down. This was the most vulnerable you had been in a while.

"Before we start, can you do something for me, baby?"

A quick nods and he continues, his tone more hushed. "Call me Simon."

Before you can even process his request, Simon groans as his tongue snakes up your clit. At first, Lorne went slow, teasingly licking at your clit. But soon enough, Simon’s fingers were slowly entering your vagina. You looked down at his dark eyes, his tongue flicking at your clit; the lamp reflecting in his eyes. 

Going deeper into your pussy, goosebumps crawled up your skin. Your back arched. Suddenly, he stopped. His mouth pops from your vulva. You try to grab at his greasy brown hair, but end up pushing his head back down to your cunt. He started slowly; his tongue felt so good around your clit with every gentle, rough lick, and suck; you could feel myself growing weaker. He was licking and sucking, and the pit in your stomach grew tighter each second. He smelled of cheap beer, cigarettes, and old sweat. With each curl and press of his fingers in your pussy, your stomach swelled in pleasure. He looked up at me and his eyes looked as if he was smiling, which made you melt. You push your vulva more in his mouth and he lets out a low growl, making the pleasure more intense. 

Soon enough, your hot cum was dripping from his mouth and down his chin. When he finally poked his head back up, his smile was a sight for sore eyes.

"God, I’m surprised you were that quiet, still, such a good girl for me. So proud of you."

"It’s not about the sounds." You reply. "But it's about body language. At this moment, you have no idea how good I feel right."

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

masterlist

summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your­–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position. 

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

[verstappen-cult]

# WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I WENT TO TOUCH YOU NOW? | CL16

Or. . . 5 times you and Charles reach for the other and are oblivious about it + 1 time you aren’t.

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Content Warnings: Smut, fingering, unprotected sex. Just two oblivious in love. This one is long, so, prepare yourself, go grab a cup of coffee and a snack. I haven’t written smut in a very long time so don’t expect anything fancy and please be nice. Enjoy! xx

You and Charles can’t keep your hands to yourselves. Everyone can see that. Everyone but you two.

Charles is always reaching for you. He’s the first one leaning in to kiss your cheek as a greeting when you see each other, lingering for a couple of seconds with his cheek against yours, feeling your soft skin, with his hand squeezing your waist ever so slightly. When you are out with your friends he’s always trying to sit by your side, waiting for the right moment to put his arm in the back of your chair, fingers brushing your shoulder and keeping up with the conversation as if nothing is happening. Charles tries to be smooth about it, he really tries.

And you are always reaching for Charles. Well, as his Press Officer it’s your job to be by his side. When you need him to pay attention to you as you’re explaining the plan for the day, you make sure to grab him by his biceps, not letting him go until you are finished, and even then you take a couple of seconds to pull away. Every time you pass each other around the paddock, you always find a way to catch his arm, his shoulder or his waist. Even when he’s too busy and late to something and you don’t actually need him for anything, he makes time for you.

But it wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when you would not even dare to think about touching him, too shy and wanting to be professional. It was a little hard when you had to be by his side almost all day, every day. You would try to not look directly at him – impossible to do given that you needed to do your job – but then Charles started to make a few jokes to break the ice and make some conversation, started to ask about your day, he started to care. And, well, the rest is history.

#1

New Year’s isn’t your favorite holiday, so, you spent it at home watching romcoms and went to sleep even before the clock hit midnight. Your friends weren’t happy but you promised to make it up to them. That is why you could not say no when your friends invited you to spend a few days with them on a Ski resort in Italy. Winter break was about to be over, after all. So, you showed up at the train station with all your bags and a little sleep deprived.

“I was about to call the police. I thought you were bailing on us.” Your friend says as a greeting, helping you with your bags. “You look like shit.”

“Oh, thank you, how sweet of you.” You roll your eyes but let her kiss your cheek. “I’ve been a little busy with the new season starting in a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s not talk about work,” You get on the train after her, looking for your seats and the rest of the group. “we actually told the same thing to Charles.”

You’re about to ask her what does she mean by that when you see the brown hair of Charles Leclerc. The next thing you see is his smile, dimples on display.

Since you started working with Charles as Media — then when you were promoted to PR Officer — there has not been a day you two haven't been together or communicating one way or another. So, anyone can say that becoming friends was bound to happen.

You make your way to him without a second thought.

"Hey, Charlie." Charles moves to the side, leaving the spot beside him free for you to sit. Which you immediately do.

"Are you excited?" He asks, turning his whole attention to you.

You have to look away, his green eyes looking at you so intensely that you feel he can see right through you into your soul.

"I've never skied before." You admit, cheeks flushed.

Charles' eyebrows shot up, his eyes flashing with enthusiasm. "Oh, you're gonna have so much fun."

The train starts moving, making you both look outside. You weren't planning on sitting with Charles, but you're not gonna stand up and leave him. Not that you actually want that.

You're about to ask him about the place you're going to spend the next days in when a yawn messes up everything.

Charles smiles softly at you, his hand patting your knee. He leaves it there for one, two, three, four seconds before removing it.

"It's not that far, really. But you could—" He clears his throat, eyes darting around. "I've been told my shoulder is the best spot to take a nap. It’s like very comfortable." Charles has a teasing but shy smile on his face, gaze finally landing on you.

You feel your face burning. You don't even need to look at yourself in a mirror to know how red your face is, probably the same color as his racing suit.

You look between his shoulder and his eyes, pretending to think about it when, in reality, you've made up your mind the second he stopped talking.

"I don't wa—"

Charles shakes his head, moving a little closer until your left side is touching his right one, not a breeze could pass between you.

You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your head rest on his shoulder. His scent hits you immediately, is calming, warm, earthy. And it reminds you of the cabin in the woods you and your family used to spend winters in when you were a kid. Surrounded by tall, green trees and a still lake.

The last thing you feel before falling asleep is Charles resting his head on top of yours.

*

"I can't do it. No, nope." You say, trying to move away, but the skis don't let you go that far.

"Yes, you can." Charles says from behind, startling you. You weren't expecting him to stay behind with you and your Ski instructor. "Just— let me." He tells the instructor, urging him to move out of the way.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m teaching you the basics,” He explains casually, as if you don’t have a certified instructor waiting a few meters away.

You smile when he positions himself by your side, too busy trying to make you stand correctly to notice how fondly you're looking at him.

"So, you need to bend your knees a little," You don't know if he notices, but his hands finding your waist to help you move just like he wants you to, send a shiver down your body. You can feel his warmth even through the layers of clothes. "Just like that, yes. You're doing great." Can he shut up? If he's going to praise you every time you do something right, you're not going to survive.

You look over your shoulder when you hear your friend's voices. You catch the exact moment they see you two and stop walking to turn around and go back to where they were before.

"Now, lean forward." Charles instructs you and you follow. Trying to regulate your breathing but with Charles so close to you is an impossible task. "Amazing!" You just leaned. It’s not that hard. "I need to— um... excuse me." He whispers, lowering one of his hand to your thigh and spreading your legs a little. When Charles looks up, his cheeks are tinted with a pretty pink color. You know you're blushing too.

Charles keeps on teaching you the basics. You even move a few meters with him by your side, his hands on your waist at all times.

"You're ready." The Monégasque says, smiling. "You are a fast learner, is she not?" From the first time in what feels like a lifetime, he asks the instructor, who is immediately moving closer.

"Of course," The man says, a polite smile directed at you. "Now we can slide down the mountain. And I'm going to be by your side at all times, so, you don’t need to worry."

You nod, excited to start skiing. Finally.

"You can go, Mr. Leclerc." The Italian man says. But Charles doesn’t move, he just keeps on looking at you, hands still on your waist. At this point you feel like they belong there. “Uh, Mr. Leclerc?” He insists. This time Charles looks at him, shaking his head to rearrange his thoughts. “If you want to go, I’ll take care of her.”

“Oh, yes! Sure, yeah.” Charles pulls away, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “You’re gonna be alright?”

“I’m sure I’ll survive, Charlie.” He makes you chuckle. “I had a pretty good instructor and I have another one ready to catch me if I fall.”

It looks like Charles wants to say something else but chooses not to and, instead, looks at you one final time before sliding down the mountain.

“So, let’s go?” Your instructor positions himself by your side in the same spot Charles was before.

He doesn’t touch you like Charles did. And you don’t feel as safe as you felt with Charles by your side.

#2

It’s Ferrari SF-24 Launch day. Winter's break is over and Charles is back in Maranello.

Charles hasn’t seen you since yesterday evening, after spotting you having dinner with members of the PR team and, without thinking so much about it, walked into the restaurant. Someone invited him and he didn't hesitate to grab a chair and sit by your side.

It was a very pleasant dinner. And Charles didn't let anyone pay for it.

You said your goodbyes after that and you made sure to remind him that he needed to be before 8:00 AM for the launch, and to have time to go over all the details of what Charles needed to do that day.

That’s most definitely the only explanation as to why Charles is getting out of his car at 7:15 in the morning. Not because he wants to see you, of course not. It’s just because he has a lot of things to do. It’s an important day, after all.

“Good morning.” Charles greets some people of the team that are passing by, rushing to get everything ready for the launch in less than an hour.

He’s in a good mood. He just knows it’s going to be a great day. Charles also knows it’s gonna be his year.

"You're early."

Charles turns around at the sound of your voice. He finds you checking the time on your watch, a teasing smile adorning those plump, pink lips of yours.

"You said before eight."

You laugh, walking down the hallway. "Yeah, but not so early." He follows you, trying to catch up with you. "However, I'm glad you decided to show up on time, we have a lot to do."

"I wanna go back to sleep." He complains, pouting like a child.

He makes you laugh, again. Charles thinks your laugh is his favorite sound in the world. Beside the sound of the SF-24.

Charles really likes to make you laugh.

"Wait, are you laughing at me?" He pretends to be offended, and you mimic the sound of his voice, bringing your hand to your chest.

"Me? Never!"

"You sure?" He stops walking, stopping right in front of you. "Because you know what I'm gonna do if you're actually laughing at me?"

You look at him suspiciously, fighting the smile that wants to make its way into your face.

Charles takes a step towards you, making you take a step back.

"Charles, whatever you're thinking—don't."

"What? I'm not doing anything!" He sounds innocent, even raising his hands in surrender. But he's still walking towards you, shortening the distance until he's so close you can count the freckles on his face.

Before you notice what's happening, he's tickling you.

It makes you throw all the things you had on your hands to the floor. You try to pull away and make him stop, but he just keeps going.

Your laugh fills the hallway you're currently in.

But you can't take it anymore, your stomach hurting for laughing so much. It’s also only a matter of time before someone comes to see what's happenig, so, you do the only thing your brain can conjure up to make him stop: hit him. Even if it's just a little push.

You raise your arms, ready to push him and defend yourself. But Charles reflexes are good and so fast, because before you can do anything, he's grabbing your wrists stopping you.

Your laugh dies in your throat.

Charles amusement is clear on his face, eyes shining with mirth.

"You are," You take a deep breath, trying to regulate your rapid breathing. "a very bad man."

He laughs, throwing his head backwards. "I'm just defending my honor, boss."

You shake your head, throwing daggers at him with your eyes. But Charles doesn’t react at all, he just caresses the inside of your wrists with his thumb.

“I promise to behave if you don’t laugh at me again.” He pouts, and your heart does a black flip inside your chest, skipping several beats.

Hesitantly, you reach out to rest a hand on his chest, giving him a little playful push. You’re not sure if you imagine the shiver you feel under your hand or if it really happens.

You chuckle, looking straight into his eyes. “I can’t make that promise.”

Charles lets go of your wrists against his will. He bends over to pick up the things you were carrying, but doesn’t give them back to you.

“If we end up getting scolded, I’m blaming you.”

Charles looks at you for what feels like hours, taking you in. He really thinks he could just watch you all day and he’d find a new freckle on your face, or a glint in your eyes he hadn’t seen before.

He leans in, so, so close, that feels your breath hitch. Charles thinks you’re gonna pull away for a second but you don’t make a move, you just keep looking at him with a indescribable expression.

“You can do whatever you want. I’ll take it.” He says in your ear, kissing your cheek before pulling away.

You stop breathing, all you can do is blink at him while your mind echoes his words.

“Shall we?”

Charles doesn’t wait for you, he resumes his walking anyway. It takes you a long time to snap out of it and follow him.

You can’t even remember what you are supposed to be doing today.

#3

It’s day two of pre-season testing in Bahrain.

You’re in the middle of talking with a reporter about the questions he can ask Charles when you are interrupted by a hand being placed on your lower back. You immediately recognize the perfume.

"Hey, I was looking for you." Charles says, fingers caressing the spot between your shirt and your trousers. His calloused hand drawing patters on your lower back shouldn't make you feel as flustered as you feel. It's not the first time he does it, so why can't you just act normal?

"Hey, Charles." The reporter says, drawing the Monégasque's attention. "Can I ask you just a few questions about second day of testing?" He doesn't need to ask him, you already agreed about it.

Charles look at you, silently asking if it's okay.

"Just testing, okay?" You tell the reporter, who nods in understanding, already moving in front of Charles alongside his camera man.

Charles squeezes your waist before giving two pats on your lower back, so low that he's almost touching your ass. You eyes widen and you take a sharp intake of breath. You really try to play it cool. But you can tell Charles noticed your reaction when you see the smirk on his beautiful, stupid face.

The reporter begins with the first question, Charles' eyes only snapping to him when the man draws his attention.

You don't listen to one single question, which is, you know, an idiotic mistake because being alert of what a reporter's asking is basically your job. But you find yourself looking at Charles' lips more than one time during the six minutes the interview lasts.

You can't do nothing more than to stand there frozen in place.

The reporter thanks Charles, that much you hear, but you still can't seem to snap back to the present. What is Charles doing? He's being extra touchy lately, not that it bothers you, but you can't seem to focus in anything when he has a hand on any part of your body. Then, add that intense gaze that, apparently, has reserved for you only.

Charles is definitely going to be the death of you.

"You seem to have your head in the clouds." Charles' accented voice is what draws you back to reality.

"What?"

What he does next is definitely something you were not expecting, not now, not even in a million years.

Charles cups your chin with his right hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. If you weren't hyper aware of every little movement, you wouldn't have felt it.

Your gaze drops to his lips and Charles has the nerve to stick his tongue out to lick his lips. They look so wet and inviting, all you need to do is move an inch closer and lean in to—

"See something you like?"

You feel your heartbeat in your ears, so loud you're pretty sure everyone in Bahrain can hear it. Charles waits for your answer as you panic, replaying his words over, and over again for minutes or hours — you don't even know.

You take Charles' hand and guide it away from your face. It takes all the willpower inside of you to let go of his hand and run away from him.

#4

It wasn't a great start of the season. Everyone agrees on that. Even the boy stepping out of the Ferrari, who started the first race of the season in front row and had such a hard time trying to drive and secure a spot on the podium.

You are glad at least one Ferrari got there in the end. But you're not as happy as you'd be if Charles was the one standing there.

Charles takes his helmet and balaclava off, his messy hair standing in every direction while sweat runs down his face. You force yourself to look away.

He makes his way to you, given that you have his cap and rings. Charles really tries to smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You know how disappointed he is. With himself and his team. Mostly with himself.

“Just a few questions and then you’ll be on your way to the hotel, okay?” Charles just nods, busy putting all his rings and bracelets on.

Charles feels like shit. All he wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep, he doesn't even want to know what happened or how they can fix it for next week. He wants to sleep.

"Hey," You stand a little closer, not thinking about anything but trying to make him talk, say anything to pull him out of his head. "It's just the first race of the season. There are a lot more to go." You rub the back of his neck, feeling the hairs there stand up.

Charles closes his eyes and lets his head fall forward. So, you take it as a good sing to keep rubbing and massaging.

Charles groans when you rub between his neck and shoulder, a very sensitive spot for him. He slowly opens his eyes again, looking at you from beneath his eyelashes.

"Come on, let's finish with this and get you to bed." You tentatively slide your hand over his shoulder and left side of his body, stopping at his waist to wrap an arm around it.

For the first time since the race finished, you see a smile forming on his lips. When you make eye contact, you know he has the perfect answer for it and, for the looks of it, it's definitely going to leave you flustered.

"If you wanted me in your bed that badly, all you had to do was ask."

It definitely makes you flush furiously, but you decide not to say anything. Mostly because you don't know what to say. Charles has been saying all these things for a very long time now and you don't know what it means, what he's playing at.

You let go of Charles when you reach the reporter, moving a little to the side to give them some space. The reporter knows what to ask but you still are on high alert, she's known for asking rude and out of place questions.

At first everything goes alright, so, you use that time to answer some messages and check out some emails. Until what the woman says next, makes your heart drop.

"You say you are capable, but it is your fault alm—" You don't let her finish, you interrupt the interview immediately by standing in front of Charles, like trying to shield him from the hurtful words of an unprofessional reporter.

"I'll make sure you receive a fine for that." It's all you say before blindly reaching for Charles.

You take his hand, dragging him out of there. You don't stop for nothing, not when a reporter asks for an interview, not when fans approach Charles to ask for pictures.

You keep walking and walking until you are in front of Charles' driver room. Your heart is hammering inside your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

"I'm going to talk to—"

Charles grabs your shoulders, turning you around so you're looking at him. "Don't worry about it. You know I don't care about what they say."

His words make you angry.

"But I care!" You exclaim, immediately regretting it. The corners of Charles' mouth go downwards, and he steps closer. "She deserves that fine."

"I know she deserves it and she will get it," His hands trail over your arms, stopping at your wrists for a second before holding your hands. "but right now I need a hug."

You blink up at him.

"Would you hug me?"

He doesn't need to ask twice. You are moving before you actually process his words, probably because you've been thinking about hugging him since the first time he announced over the radio how the brakes where not responding to him.

Sliding your hand around his shoulders comes like a second nature to you, like is something you've done your whole life. You don't care that he's drenched in sweat, you hide your face in the crook of his neck anyways. And it's then that you learn how much you like the mixture of his scent with the sweat of racing for over two hours.

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against his body. It's then that he learns how well you fit against his body. Like you belong there. He knows you belong in his arms.

#5

Charles finished third.

It's his first podium of the season.

You wait by the side but he doesn't see you. He has the most pretty and bright smile on his face as he removes the balaclava from his head. He has the most pretty and bright smile when he greets and congratulates Max and Checo.

And you really think that his smiles widens when he finally looks to the side, right where you are alongside his Ferrari team.

Charles makes his way to his team. Everyone is so happy cheering for him and congratulating him for his first podium. Everyone is happy.

But no one can't he as happy as you are.

Not when he sees you for the first time and rushes to hug you. It's quick, not enough, but they're pulling him away for the post-race interview. He needs to go up on that podium and make everyone proud.

*

You’re pretty sure you took like a dozen pictures of Charles on the podium. The ones where he's looking down at his team are your favorites because it looks like he's looking at you.

Post-race Charles is your favorite kind of Charles. But post-race Charles on the podium... that has to be what being in heaven feels like.

You laugh as you see him approaching hospitality with his trophy and champagne, and a broad smile spread over his face.

He's surrounded by people in a matter of seconds, as wells as Ollie by his side who can't seem to stop smiling. You're very proud of them.

When you see a few reporters approaching, you take into action.

The second Charles sees you, he's forgetting about anything and everyone around him. All he wants is to hug you and tell you how well and right it felt, but there are so many people that he has to settle with you grabbing the hem of his race suit to make him walk into hospitality, away from everyone.

"Go take a shower. Your team wants to celebrate, even Carlos wants to go." You smile up at him.

You don't know how to describe the expression on his face, so, you simply don't.

He snaps out of a his trance and makes his way to his driver room, but when you call his name he stops, turning around so fast that his neck starts to hurt.

"I'm so proud of you, Charlie."

Charles doesn't care if the trophy or the champagne bottle breaks, he just let them fall to the floor and runs to you, lifting you in his arms.

You giggle, feeling light as a feather. Like you're actually on cloud nine.

"Charlie!" Andrea's voice startles the both of you.

You are forced to pull away, but Charles leaves his hand on your waist, not letting you go completely.

"Come on, hurry up! We want to celebrate."

Andrea doesn't bat an eye, he doesn't care that he found you and Charles in a compromising position — kind of? well, it definitely is unprofessional — and that you still are very close to each other.

Charles groans and lets you go. You miss his touch already.

"Don't drink too much, okay?"

"As if I would let him." Andrea says, rolling his eyes.

"I'm a grown man!" Charles screams before shutting the door of his room.

+1

You're watching a movie in bed — wrapped in a hotel bathrobe, freshly out of the shower, with a delicious lotion on your body and feeling like a pampered baby — when there's a knock on your door.

When you open the door, you find a disheveled and out of breathe Charles standing there, leaning against the opposite wall.

"Charles?" You ask, confused.

You look to both sides of the hallway but nobody else is there.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were out celebrating."

"I was—" He says, breathing heavily. "I was but then I just — I realized that I didn't want to be there."

"Okay?" You're not getting any of what he's saying, more confused than ever. "Are you drunk?"

"No! I barely drank anything. It was just a glass."

"Then," You shrug, looking behind you into the room. "I was watching a movie. Do you... want to come in?"

You still don't know why he knocked on your door, but you are not letting him out in the hallway.

Charles accepts the invitation. Just not in the way you would've thought.

It takes you a second to notice a pair soft lips against your own. But when you finally register that you are being kissed, Charles is pulling away from you, a shy smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask, trying to find some coherent words in your fuzzy brain.

Charles' face falls, shoulder slumping slightly. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry." He starts rambling, moving his hands in the air. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking properly. I thought—we had, I mean... You and—"

You couldn't take it anymore. You needed to take him out of his misery. That's definitely the only reason why you crashed your lips with his, pressing yourself against his body.

Charles moves quickly, walking you backwards into the room and closing the door with his foot.

You sigh into the kiss. A sigh that says finally.

"I think," You whisper against his lips, gasping for air. But Charles keeps on assaulting your lips. "we should talk ab—"

Charles groans pulling away, just enough to talk, lips brushing against yours with every breath. "We could. Or I could show you all the things I've been dreaming on doing to you, and we can talk later."

Your heart starts thumping so fast that your breath hitches in your throat. Charles takes your silence, and your body's reaction, as a yes.

This time, Charles takes his time. He cups your cheek with one hand, thumb caressing your cheekbone so softly — as if you’re made of glass and could break at any moment — and sliding lower, the pad of his finger brushing against your bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers, gaze fixed on your plump lips.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since…” You try try to think about it, to remember the very first time you thought about Charles being more than a friend. But it seems like it has always been that way.

“Forever.” Charles finishes for you.

Yes! Your insides scream.

“Would you let me show you?”

You frown, titling your hear to the side. “What?”

“How much I want you.”

There’s no need to verbally say yes, you find that is so much better if you show him. So, you kiss him.

Kissing Charles feels like walking in a soft, pillowy cloud, like everything is falling back into place, like things are how they always should have been.

There is warmth blossoming in your chest, fireworks exploding all around you as Charles leans in closer, lips exploring each other for the first time. You hold onto Charles' shoulder as if you're gonna fall and wake up, realize that this was just a dream. You don't want it to be a dream.

You let him guide you to the bed as his hands rest on your hips, wrinkling the bathrobe with his hands.

His lips are soft yet the kiss is demanding. Your lips part slightly, allowing Charles' tongue to slip inside and explore your mouth.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pulls away. His pupils are dilated and his breathing erratic. "You don't—" He sighs, closing his eyes as if trying and ground himself. Charles takes your hand, silently asking for permission and, when you nod, guides it to his crotch, making you feel how hard he is. "You don't even know the effect you have on me."

Charles doesn't give you time to answer, not even to think about anything but how much you want to kiss him, and feel him, and be his.

"Can I unfasten this?" He asks, lips trailing kisses down your neck. You nod your approval, but Charles shakes his head. "I need words, baby."

"Yes," You don't recognize your own voice, it's feels strange to your ears. "Yes, you can."

Charles smiles, grazing his teeth along your neck, nipping and sucking along the way. You moan when he sucks right above your pulse point.

He takes his time unfastening your bathrobe, letting it fall slowly the floor. In seconds, you're completely bare in front of him. You should feel ashamed, a part of you actually feels embarrassed to be naked in front on a man — in front of Charles. But right now, desire and longing are coursing through your veins, clouding your mind. Your body screams for Charles.

Charles hands are soft on your skin, he splays them on your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart; it makes him smile.

"Would you lay down for me?" He purrs. And who are you to say no?

With shaky legs you climb onto the bed, lying down against the pillows. You can still hear the movie playing in the background, but you couldn't care less, not right now.

You can only watch as Charles removes every piece of clothing from his body. You knew Charles was well toned, you have seen Charles without a shirt, but seeing him here in your room, in a whole different context, makes you close your legs and lift your hips from the bed, searching for something, anything that only Charles can give you.

He rubs his hands up your legs, rubbing your thighs, as he climbs on top of you. His lips find yours one more time, your breath quivering.

"So pretty." Charles grunts, basking in your beauty. It lasts only a couple of seconds because you hide behind your hands. "No need to hide, baby." He pulls your hands away, sliding them over your collarbone, stopping on your chest and grabbing your breasts.

You arch your back against his touch, moans spilling from your mouth and filling the room.

"So good, so, so good." You blurt out, getting lost in the pleasure his hands are giving you, pinching and squeezing your breasts. One of his hands is replaced for his mouth, and you have to force yourself to open your eyes to see the view of Charles on top of you, making you come undone with his mouth.

His left hand leaves your breast as his mouth keeps the assault on your breast, he slowly lowers it to part your legs, making you squirm.

You've never been this wet before, and Charles notices the moment his fingers make contact with your cunt. Charles begins to rub circles on your throbbing clit, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Please," You beg, the only word leaving your lips over and over again.

Charles takes pity on you, knowing exactly what you need. So, he gives it to you; one of his fingers slips in, causing you to buck your hips involuntarily.

"So good for me." Charles croons, taking your lips with his own, swallowing all your moans. "You think you can take my cock, pretty girl?" He asks, slipping in another finger, pressing them upward. Your brain feels fuzzy, but in such a good way. You don't need to be asked twice, a yes leaves you lips immediately as you grind your hips desperately into his hand.

"I can, Charles—please I can take it." You moan, making Charles slow his movements.

Charles pulls out his fingers, and you whine desperately at the loss. "I got you, baby." But then a thought crosses his mind and he curses under his breath, closing his eyes for a second. "I don't—shit I don't have a condom."

You make grabby hands, making him lean forward so you can touch him. You cup his face with your hands, eyes finding his green ones. There's sweat on his forehead, his face flushed, and you think that post-race Charles and bedroom Charles are definitely battling to win first place.

"We're both clean, I know." You graze your fingers over his pecs, making him shudder. "Just—please, Charlie. I need you."

Who is he to say no to you?

The mere thought of fucking you bare is enough to send his mind reeling.

Charles aligns himself between your legs, the tip of his cock gathering your wetness and making you both moan at the feeling.

You dig your nails in his shoulder as he slowly starts to bury himself inside of you. Charles leans to kiss you, and is messy and wet, tongues and spit mix together as you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling ever so slightly, which makes him moan against your mouth. So you do it again.

Charles kisses you with so much desperation, desire consuming you both. He bottoms out and you can't reciprocate the kiss anymore, not when he stars slamming his hips, setting an agonizing pace.

Charles fucks you into the bed wincing as he feels you bite his shoulder, a poor attempt of trying not to scream and let the whole hotel floor know what you are doing.

"How does it feel? Is that what you wanted, uh?" He groans, brushing a strand of hair out of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, feels so good, Char. So good." Your whole body is burning, you feel so deliciously filled.

Charles bends your legs, pushing them against your chest as he finds a new angle to keep on fucking you. He starts thrusting faster, holding onto your legs so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow.

It's too much. You don't even have time nor words to warn him before you are coming, clenching around Charles' cock.

"So tight. So. Fucking. Tight." Charles whispers, pace faltering as he feels his own climax approaching. He keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm.

You are a moaning, whimpering mess, and you let Charles use you as much as he likes, you let it know that over and over again.

"That's it, baby. 'm gonna come now," Those are Charles' final words as he pulls out, pumping himself a few more times until he's painting your chest with his cum.

Charles plops down on the bed next to you, both panting and completely exhausted.

"Are you okay?" He asks in a hoarse voice.

You turn to look at him, fingers playing with his cum on your chest. The only thing you can do is nod, too exhausted to even to talk.

"What? Did I fuck your brains out?" Charles teases, leaning in to leave a chaste kiss to your lips. It's so innocent and soft, the total opposite of what you did just moments ago.

"Shut up!" You breathe out, giggling. There is still a buzzing in your ears and a tingling sensation in your cunt. But you feel good.

"Come on," He says, standing up and reaching for your hands.

You frown, standing on shaky legs. He teases you some more and you end up pushing him away.

"What are we doing?"

"Taking a bath," He explains, tugging at your hand. "We need to clean you up."

"I just took a shower, this is all your fault." You complain, his green eyes boring into you.

"You liked it." It's not a question.

He tugs at your hand again and you follow, you really would follow Charles to the end of the world. Charles can't hide the big, stupid smile on his face. "You said you were watching a movie, so, we are going to watch a movie."

© verstappen-cult, 2024 — do not repost, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[ugh-yoongi]

the very last thing i decide | pjm

(or, the one in which a love exists that's easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.)

✘ PAIRING jimin x f. reader ✘ SUMMARY you learn what it means to love with blood on your hands. ✘ GENRE hitman/assassin au; angst, smut ✘ RATING explicit. minors dni. ✘ WARNINGS they are both hitmen (hitpeople?) so there's all the content that goes along with that: violence, death, mentions of blood (a lot) and weapons, murder, but no explicit gore. everyone is morally grey at best and downright psychotic at worst (especially yoongi). reader gets stabbed. no one knows how to be a functional human being. swearing, smoking, light smut (penetrative & oral sex), miscommunication and unrequited love but not really, i drop a classic tumblr meme in a line of dialogue. ambiguous/hopeful ending!! some of the themes here are kinda heavy and i am not entirely sure how to tag them so if you have any questions pls don’t hesitate to ask! ✘ WORDCOUNT 12k ✘ LISTEN TO manchester orchestra - telepath ✘ THANK YOU i cannot remember everyone i’ve showed this to over the years. @the-boy-meets-evil for looking this over and brainstorming with me today. @hot-soop for always being a help. @effortandmore because you told me an embarrassingly long time ago this was worth finishing. and i’m pretty sure i also sent this to @jihopesjoint at some point too. i did a quick edit of this on my own, but after nearly three years i just wanted it posted and out of my wips so i'm sure i missed things. pls ignore them. ✘ AUTHOR'S NOTE fic drops two days in a row?? who am i?? i started this in may 2021 and it was supposed to be a simple pegging fic. i abandoned it bc i was convinced no one would want to read it. between today and yesterday i have written thousands of words and made it across the finish line. i hope you like it. the violence is a metaphor for love or whatever.

[37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA]

Jimin’s hair had been red the first time he met you.

How fitting, he thinks, considering he’s currently bleeding out on a table.

Well, there’s still a bit of fight left in him. He hasn’t lost consciousness yet, which he assumes is a good sign; he can still hear Hoseok barking out orders quite clearly. The edges of his vision are fuzzy and the pain in his abdomen is sharp and unrelenting, but he still has enough brain power left to wish he’d died instead.

Because you’d saved his life. And now he’s further indebted to you.

(Jimin never leaves a debt unpaid, but he’s not sure how to make even on something like this.)

Jungkook and Taehyung are fetching supplies faster than Hoseok can ask for them. Two pairs of frazzled, spaced-out eyes. Four sets of trembling limbs. Namjoon’s wearing burn marks into the floor, his cuticles bloody and nearly worried to the bone since he can’t keep them out of his mouth.

And then there’s you.

Sitting cross-legged in a chair as you scroll through your phone. Jimin’s blood is still drying on your hands, leaving smears as you drag your thumb back and forth across the screen, and this doesn’t seem to faze you one bit.

Behind you, Yoongi takes a seat at the piano and starts playing Toccata and Fugue in D minor, and Jimin simply cannot die like this. He can’t die on a wooden table in a room with a piano on which Min Yoongi is playing Baroque organ pieces.

“What is this, a fucking funeral?” Hoseok snaps, though there’s a desperation creeping into his tone that Jimin does not like, does not want to hear. “Cut it out, Yoongi.”

Said man staunchly ignores the doctor, transitioning flawlessly into the fugue. Jimin barely hears the tinkle of your laughter but he hears it all the same, and he wants to pretend it doesn’t calm him, bring him back down to earth when he starts drifting too far away. But you do, and it does, and all he can think about is: will you miss him if he dies? Will it take you long to wash his blood from your hands?

Hoseok’s absolutely incensed, pushed to the limits of his stress at the thought of not being able to save Jimin’s life, and Jimin appreciates this, really, but not when Hoseok pushes two gloved fingers deep into the wound in his stomach so hard all he can do is cry. “Yoongi—”

You snort. You don’t even look up from your phone.

Namjoon, for all his leadership and stoicism and poise under pressure, is just as frantic and panicked as the rest. It’s not everyday one of his people is inches from death ten feet away from him. Most people usually die in the shadows. Kim Namjoon has faced down death more times than most, yet watching the life slowly fade from Jimin’s eyes is too much even for him. “Yoongi, please—”

But the fugue keeps going, tempo change after tempo change, the two pillars of this organization spiraling completely by the time the coda starts, unfocused and sweating and praying. To gods they don’t believe in, to hope, to chance—whatever and whoever might be listening. Jimin usually loves hearing Yoongi play. It’s the only thing that humanizes him, and Jimin had spent so many restless nights shoulder to shoulder with him on that exact bench in the blue hours of the early morning, hypnotized by the way the older man’s knobby fingers moved across the keys.

This is it, he thinks.

Jimin’s going to die with Toccata and Fugue in D minor playing in the background.

He’s imagined his death so many times. Stupid not to in this line of work. Violent, quick and painless, in his sleep, drawn out and gory, a message. And in all of those scenarios, it’s either jarringly silent or there’s someone screaming. Usually him, sounding much like he is now, two fingers stuck in his gut. In all of those scenarios, Min Yoongi is never playing Bach as everything fades to black.

You sigh. “Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” you say, your tone as blasé and inconvenienced as ever.

Shocked at your audacity, one of Yoongi’s fingers slips and hits the wrong key, something dissonant and metallic as it rings out. But the music stops all the same, the silence nearly giving Jimin whiplash. Now he can hear the clinkof Hoseok’s tools, the squelching of his wound, Jungkook’s desperate pleading for him to just be alright, please God, just hang on. He wants the music back. He doesn’t want Jungkook’s crying to be the last thing he hears. Doesn’t want the sound of his own organs imprinted into his memory.

“What’d you say?” Yoongi asks, because no one talks to him that way. They wouldn’t dare. Most people try not to talk to him at all.

But you do.

And, inexplicably, Yoongi listens.

You roll your eyes. “You go deaf in your old age? I said shut the fuck up. Hoseok’s two knuckles deep in Jimin’s fucking stomach and you’re over there having your little Amadeus moment.”

He bristles. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Yoongi repeats, and Jimin can’t see him, but he knows his eyes are narrowed, lips pulled back in a snarl, fists clenched at his side.

“Oh, princess,” you coo, and Yoongi’s fury is palpable, permeates every inch of this place, overrides all the fear and anguish. “I’m talking to you, baby. I know Jiminie’s busy trying not to die and that’s stressful for all of us, but please do try to keep up.”

Jimin hears the flick of Yoongi’s switchblade. Then he hears him say, “Please let me fucking kill her,” in that lazy Daegu drawl of his, like forming full words are beneath him. Not worth the effort when they’re directed at you.

Still seated, you uncross your legs and, through blurred vision, Jimin watches you grab Yoongi by his belt loops to tug him closer, grab the wrist that holds his knife and press it to your own throat. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Yoongi. Be a good boy and make it hurt.”

Jungkook’s near hysterics at Jimin’s side. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? He’s dying!”

Jimin tries to say I’m not, Kookie, I’m okay but the pressure on his abdomen is too intense. He can barely breathe, and Hoseok’s still digging around, still looking for that stupid fucking bullet, had to do something and do it quick so there’d been very little anesthetic and finesse, and he’s silently screaming for someone to just comfort Jungkook, tell him everything’s going to be okay, but instead—

“Serves him right for being a fucking idiot,” you say, words muffled by the knife still pressed to your throat. “What a painful, permanentlesson in not forgetting your fucking vest.”

“Stop it!” Jungkook sobs, fingers ghosting along Jimin’s matted fringe.

Yoongi’s still scowling. “Just say the word, Joon-ah. I’ll make it quick.”

You actually laugh at that. The kind of full-belly laugh Jimin would kill to be able to produce. “You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Someone snarls. Probably Yoongi. “You’d look so good gutted on the floor like a fish,” he replies, and if Jimin knows him at all, he knows he’s got that dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. The one he always gets when he’s about to kill—the one that makes him so unhinged and dangerous. “Left there to bleed out and die all alone like the trash you are.”

No one’s survived that look before, but you just grin, as if being on the receiving end of it is nothing more than another simple inconvenience. “Do it, then,” you prompt. “You’re so big and bad, yet here you are, waiting for Namjoon’s permission like some kind of pathetic fucking dog.”

“I’m no one’s dog.”

Your eyes slowly flick over to Namjoon. “No?” you ask, smile widening as Jimin watches you drag your heeled foot up the inside of Yoongi’s calf, his thigh, stiletto coming to rest in the center of his sternum. “That’s a shame, princess. That pretty neck of yours was just made for a collar.”

There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind now that he actually died back in that penthouse and is now residing in whatever level of hell is watching you give his associate a semi despite him being a millisecond away from murdering you.

Yoongi would do it, too. No hesitation. You’ve been on his shit list for as long as Jimin can remember, and you’ve been daring him to put his money where his mouth is and just kill you already for just as long.

Taehyung groans. “Can you two just fuck already so the rest of us can be spared of this?”

You click your tongue, tone melting like butter. You’re fond of Taehyung, soft on him. “No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie, and god does that hurt his little feelings.”

Your wicked smile gives away nothing—whether you’re telling a bold truth or just unnecessarily needling Yoongi further—but Jimin’s caught off guard and chokes on your words nonetheless.

Hoseok’s forceps still digging around in his stomach, there’s a quiet hurrah of triumph as he finally locates the bullet. Jimin feels nothing as he retrieves it and plucks it out, a reverberated clank! as he drops it into a kidney dish, your words the anesthetic he’s needed as they play on a loop in his head.

When he finally blacks out, either from the pain or the adrenaline or both, it’s your face that greets him. He never gets the chance to tell you why he forgot his vest.

[64.1466° N, 21.9426° W | Reykjavík, ICELAND]

Jimin’s hair is blue when it happens the first time.

It’s November. Namjoon has sent the two of you to Reykjavik and it’s dark all the time, the midnight hue of his hair blending into the impenetrable nighttime that surrounds you. Jimin works best like this—out of sight, part of the shadows. He’s light on his feet, lithe in ways no one else is, not even you, and he’s impossible to anticipate under the cover of darkness.

That’s why Jimin always takes care of the appetizers.

It’s your job to clean up the main course.

The two of you are two halves of the same lethal coin, working together flawlessly after years of carefully honed practice. Jimin slams an unsuspecting man’s head into a wall and you’re right behind him to put a bullet in it.

It’s just how it goes.

And he trusts you. He has to, otherwise he would’ve gotten taken out years ago. You’re not always in his line of sight, but he always feels you, senses your movements before you’re even on your feet. The times it’s gone wrong—and it’s gone wrong so many fucking times, despite how cautious and skilled the two of you are—you’re always right there to catch him before he even hits the ground. Just like a ghost, as if your only purpose in life is keeping Jimin safe and alive.

(It isn’t, but it sure feels that way.)

Tonight it’s another hit carried out in an overpriced penthouse overlooking the northern shore. You’re in and out, don’t waste a second more than you need to. Jimin doesn’t spare a glance at the carnage left behind. Nothing he hasn’t seen a hundred times before. All blood bleeds the same, but he still wonders, foolishly, if his looks different to you. If it feels wrong when it stains your hands and seeps into your clothes.

Jimin has never been covered in your blood before, but he likes to think it would.

The two of you don’t speak until you’re in the quiet safety of yet another hotel room, chain lock thrown across the door, deadbolt secured. A small arsenal of weapons is retrieved from ankles and waistbands and cleaned and packed away meticulously. Jimin’s the one who makes the call to Namjoon, tells him in code that the job’s done. You’ve barely broken a sweat, but under the fluorescent light of the bathroom, Jimin can see a small smattering of blood just along your temple when he closes the distance between you.

Someone else’s, of course.

Anyone who made you bleed your own blood wouldn’t be a quick, clean kill. Jimin would make sure of that.

There’s less to be done about the half-inch scar in the hollow of your throat—a pearlescent reminder of the twin scar he has just below his navel; a callback to the day your devilish mouth said the words Jimin can’t stop thinking about.

“No can do, angel. Yoongi here knows I only have eyes for our Jiminie.”

Maybe it’s stupidity. Maybe it’s the feral, years-long build up that’s been simmering between the two of you—low enough to keep warm, contained enough to never evolve into a rapid boil. Maybe Jimin’s just finally desperate enough to go seeking out answers to questions he’s far too scared to put a voice to.

(Really, Jimin knows it’s adrenaline. Nothing more than chemicals. The two of you high on it, heads floating above the clouds. Powerless; or, at the very least, indifferent to stop the very clear path that’s unfolding on the ground below.)

But, god, he needs to know.

Needs answers.

Needs to know if there’s even a chance you feel it, too: the magnetic ebb and flow the two of you have been dancing around for years. If you see how fondly he looks at you. If you have any idea how easy it is for him to get lost in you. If you know he’d let someone put a bullet between his eyes before he placed his life in the hands of anyone else.

Jimin knows he loves you. He’s known it for a long time, just like he knows all those other things that are second nature to him. Loving you is easy and instinctual as much as it is painful and self-destructive.

At least that’s what he’d thought. Until your devilish mouth said those devilish words and sent him into a tailspin he’s yet to recover from.

You have to feel it. God, can’t you? The way the air crackles between you. The way his skin ignites with a simple look from you. The trembling of his fingers at his sides, desperate to just reach out and touch you—fingers that have been bathed in blood, that have taken life. Fingers that now just want to graze softly across your cheekbones, catch on your bottom lip. Fingers that want to hand you the world on a silver platter. Jimin would do anything for you, give you whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to ask.

Can’t you feel that?

He needs to know.

Jimin is composed, elegant. He kills with grace and still maintains as much of his softness as he can. Isn’t ruled by emotion the way Yoongi and Jungkook are. But now, as he teeters on the edge of the unknown, all he wants to do is jump. Wants to buck all his training, all his resolve and forethought, and jump.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, voice thick. Fingers curl into the expensive silk of his shirt just so they have something to do—something to keep them from reaching out and touching you. “Back in Seoul.”

You’re the smartest person Jimin knows. When you ask, “Did I mean what, Chim?” he knows you’re fucking with him. Dragging this out. You know exactly what he’s asking and he knows you’ll never give anything away so easily.

“What you said to Taehyung,” he answers.

You tsk, eyebrows raising in intrigue. As much as Jimin trusts you, as well as you know him, know all those dirty, dirty secrets he’d never tell anyone else, he’s never been so bold with you. “That those long fingers of his would look good wrapped around my throat? Yeah, I meant that.”

Jimin’s jaw clenches at your taunt. “Don’t play games with me.”

A smirk graces your lips. “Trust me, sweetheart,” you say, voice sickly-sweet as the affection starts popping at the last seams holding him together, “if I wanted to play with you, there’s nothing you could do to stop it.”

With Jimin pressed into the wall behind you, you turn to meet his eye in the mirror. Another smile, teeth bared as you run your tongue across your lips, and this one is his undoing. Makes his cock twitch in his dress pants. Makes him bold. “Do you want to, then?” He takes a step forward—close enough to smell the gunpowder stuck to your clothes, your hair. Close enough for the sulfur and metal to sting his nostrils each time he breathes you in. “Do you want to play with me?”

You love Jimin. Maybe it’s a trauma bond or the implicit, unwavering trust the two of you have in one another, but you know you love him limitlessly. But you also know you can’t love him the way he loves you, the way he deserves to be loved by someone, which is why your mask slips as you say, “I can’t give you what you want, Jimin.”

You try to make him understand that. Really, you do—because Jimin is the smartest person you know, and you know he’s thought about every possible consequence down to the most minute detail and has decided this is worth it anyway. You want to believe in something the way Jimin believes in you, even though he’s wrong. You want something worth throwing all of this away for.

Maybe it’s Jimin, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s just been so fucking long since someone has looked at you with any gentleness in their eyes at all that when Jimin meets your gaze and says, “I don’t want anything more than you’re willing to give,” you take his hand and jump, too.

And there’s nothing gentle about the first time.

It’s all raw, urgent need, Jimin trying desperately to convince himself it’s more than it is while you convince yourself it’s less.

It’s the two of you finally giving up and giving in, letting yourselves be pulled taut by that invisible string tying you together.

It’s Jimin’s sharp intake of breath when you fully step out of your clothes, the sight rendering him immobile. Whatever plans he’d had before seeing the curves of your body, all the scars from years of working by his side, the mottled yellow-greens and purples from the bruises lining your skin—he has no plans now. Can barely think. Wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you with a gun to his head.

It’s the final bricks of the wall he’d built around himself—around his heart, around all those words and feelings he’d never put a voice to—crumbling into ash at his feet. Now he knows he can’t go back. Can’t return to a reality where this isn’t his truth. Where there’s no you and him, him and you. Where it’s just a physical exchange, a give-and-take, tit for tat.

And god, he knows he shouldn’t think like this; knows he’s keeping the truth buried somewhere deep behind lock and key.

…But now that he knows how it feels to move inside you, what else is he supposed to do?

You’re everywhere. Clenched around him. Your taste on his tongue. The feel of you on the pads of his fingers. The smell of you making a mockery of all logical thought. No—no, he can’t do a goddamn thing to stop the avalanche now it’s started.

“Fuck,” he whines, fingers digging into your hips. The soft skin he finds purchase in such a contrast from your hardened exterior, but Jimin knows. He knows you, knows the person behind the mask, sees straight through you each time it slips.

What stared back at him had always been just out of reach.

Taunting him.

Screaming come and get me, come make me yours, come and fucking take what you want.

Until now.

Now it’s tangible. Now it’s breathy, fractured moans that echo off tile walls. Now it’s the sound of his name thatleaves your lips like a prayer. Now it’s the sheen of sweat that covers both of you. Now it’s nails scraping down his back, tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

(And Jimin won’t tell you this, but those red welts are proof that this is real, this happened, and later on when he’s alone, when his mind is working overtime, he’ll look at them and he’ll smile. Because they’re real. Because this happened.)

Now, it’s the way blue becomes his favorite color. Because he can see his reflection in the mirror as he unravels and comes to his own demise as he spills inside of you; can see the fluorescent lights reflecting off the hue of his hair.

Jimin’s hair is blue when he realizes he’s in love with you.

[34.6037° S, 58.3816° W | Buenos Aires, ARGENTINA]

Jimin is blond when Namjoon sends you to South America.

The details had been scarce: a diplomatic advisor with a rap sheet of human rights violations that have been continuously swept under the rug and his equally-corrupt lawyer. A candid photograph paperclipped to another manila folder, Namjoon a fan of all those old cliches. Likes being a little cheeky that way when he can get away with it, because god knows he can’t get away with much, doesn’t have much of a sense of humor.

It’s a simple job. You and Jimin will have it dealt with in a matter of hours. Less if you’re lucky and the universe is agreeable. But the humidity sticks to your skin, has sweat seeping into your clothes and rolling down your temples, and if there’s one thing you can’t stand it’s the heat. Makes it hard to think. And Namjoon—Namjoon, who makes sure all of his agents want for nothing—is a cheap bastard. Rarely approves nice lodging, says it’s too risky despite your arguments to the contrary, that people don’t care what you do when you have money, so you’re stuck in some shithole motel room with an aircon unit that keeps blowing out stale, warm air.

And maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should be more cognizant of Jimin and all his feelings, but it’s fucking hot, so you peel your shirt over your head and undo the button of your pants. Sit on the edge of the bed and try to think about anything other than the temperature, how it’s starting to prick uncomfortably at your skin.

Jimin clears his throat, keeps his eyes glued to the disgusting carpet. “Got a text from Seokjin-ssi,” he says, words strained. “Looks like they’ll be solo jobs.”

You groan. Leave it to Seokjin to change the plan at the last minute. “Tell Kim Seokjin he’s a useless piece of shit.”

“Done. Anything else?”

“Tell Kim Namjoon if he ever sends us to South America in the summer again I’ll kill him myself.”

Jimin has a laugh like an anodyne. A laugh that takes all those broken, bleeding parts of you and soothes over them like a balm. “Seokjin-ssi says he’s not passing along that particular message.”

“Tell him he’s a bitch, then.”

“He’ll kill me if I say that.”

“He hasn’t done field work in years and he’s probably too vitamin D deficient to leave the basement. He couldn’t even kill a fucking rat.”

There’s another laugh. More forced, less tinkling. You recognize it right away, the sound of anxiety. Solo jobs aren’t common for the two of you. For Yoongi and Taehyung, sure, but not you and Jimin. You’re a team for a reason, and though you’re more than capable of getting this done and out of the way, it doesn’t feel right. Settles in your gut like something rotten, knowing you’ll be without Jimin.

And you know he’s thinking it, too. How he turns the burner over and over in his hands, as if there’s some combination of words he can send back to Seoul to get Seokjin and Namjoon to reconsider. Plans don’t change often; not like this, anyway. These have been declared solos for a reason, and that’s a thought you can’t linger on too long.

“Are they leaving it up to us?” Jimin nods, still not meeting your eye. “Do you have a preference?”

He shrugs, tossing the phone on the small table in the corner. Nothing else to be done. “Not really. What do you think?”

“Nah, don’t care, either. Just toss me one.”

Santiago Aguirre… 47 years old… Resides in a high-rise luxury apartment in Retiro…

Your eyes skim the file, study the black and white photograph of the lawyer. Read over the list of all his high-profile, degenerate clients and all their high-profile crimes. You read about the previous attempts on his life, the seemingly never-ending list of people who want him dead. Your eyes go back to his photograph, frowning at the smug look on his face. What stares back at you is a man who thinks he’s invincible, who thinks a penthouse apartment on the top floor and a security team in the lobby means he’s impervious to harm. A man who has made money off people just like him: dirty, corrupt, hands stained red.

“Okay?” Jimin asks, looking up from his own file.

He’s so striking. So safe. And you know what he’s done, giving you the hit he thinks is easier, willing to risk himself on a solo mission to ensure you make it out. There’s no guarantees in this line of work, in life in general, but Jimin’s brand of selfless love is certainly one.

So you just nod, knowing someone slimy like this can quickly go sideways, and decide you can do the same.

“I’m gonna get ready,” you say. “The plan is the same as all the other solo jobs. Get in, get it done, get out as quickly as possible. Lay low. Don’t come straight back here.”

Jimin rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Anything else?”

You exhale. Try to quiet the nerves roiling in your stomach. Barely resist the urge to press a lingering kiss to Jimin’s forehead before you swallow hard and say, “Yeah. Stay alive.”

It comes out more like a plea.

—

You’re good at your job.

Rarely feel much guilt over it, either, which—well, you’re not sure what that means. That something is permanently broken in your psyche, probably. Being able to take life so easily and without remorse. It’s not natural.

Kim Namjoon is a man who plays God, is the one who decides who gets to live and who has to die. His word is the only law you adhere to. And that’s… that’s something. Makes it less burdensome, takes some weight off, because Kim Namjoon wouldn’t accept a morally-ambiguous job. He wouldn’t ask you to put your life on the line for some petty bullshit.

This is how you’ve lived for the last four years. Four years of blindly following Namjoon’s word, of being a good little soldier and doing whatever is asked of you. Four years of being responsible for not only your own life, but Jimin’s as well, just as he is for yours. Four years that have served you well, all things considered.

Until now.

Something about this job hits you hard. Doesn’t settle quite as quickly as the ones that have come before. For the first time, you’d looked down at the lifeless body at your feet and couldn’t stop the trembling, could barely quell the nausea. Thought what the fuck am I doing, what kind of life is this for the first time. Thought back to that day four years ago when Kim Namjoon saved your life and offered you a job and wondered, for the first time, what would’ve happened if you’d said no.

Now, as you suck on a cigarette, legs dangling off the roof of a building looking not far from collapse, a new thought:

Would Namjoon let you go if you asked?

He’s taken care of you. For four years you’ve wanted for nothing. Have socked away more money than you’ll ever be able to spend, even if you live to a thousand. You could go anywhere, become anyone, and no one would suspect a thing. There’d just be you and a million lifetimes’ worth of transgressions, alone under the weight of all that burden; alone, except for all the ghosts that come to greet you every time you close your eyes.

Doesn’t matter. Namjoon might be willing to let you go, give you the chance to salvage something from this life in the name of normalcy, but Yoongi would gladly put a bullet in your head before he let you disappear with all his secrets.

Doesn’t matter.

You stub out the cigarette and put the butt in your pocket. Make your way down to the street. Stay under the shadows—just visible enough to redirect any suspicion shot your way. You pretend to take a call, flawless Argentinian Spanish falling from your lips as you tell the imaginary person on the other end all about your fucked up day at work. How your manager never gets off your ass, doesn’t trust you, thinks you’re too fucking stupid to run a simple executable.

No one spares you a second glance.

Not here, on this nondescript street in a nondescript Argentinian neighborhood, and not when you stumble into the tiny lobby of your shithole motel. The poor kid behind the desk doesn’t even glance up, just mutters a good evening, miss under his breath that you return in a voice far too high-pitched to be your own.

Better to be seen and be unremarkable than draw attention to yourself trying to stay invisible, you figure.

The cameras in the stairwell are broken so you take the steps two at a time. Pull the room key from its place inside your boot, happy to no longer have it digging into your skin. Pause just long enough to make sure you don’t hear anything on the other side of the door before you’re unlocking it with your free hand wrapped around the trigger of your gun.

It’s empty.

Of course it is.

Jimin stashed the burner in a place no one but you would think to look. You text one simple word to Seokjin—Hey!—and you get two in return: Who’s this?

You know who it is, you fucking dickhead.

It takes a few seconds, but the reply is a simple—

Sorry.

Then you toss aside the phone and float in the darkness of the room. There’s nothing to do but wait, because you don’t dare to do anything alone. There’s sweat and blood and fuck knows what else stuck to your skin, your hair, but you can’t risk taking a shower. Can’t risk the water dampening your senses. Can’t risk being cornered in a moldy bathroom, only one way out. Can’t risk doing anything alone. Can’t take a fucking shower.

It’s this thought, more than anything else, that has your body flushing with rage.

What kind of life is this?

Namjoon had never mentioned repaying your debt. He’d never insinuated you owed him anything at all for saving your life, but you know something like that never comes for free. Namjoon doesn’t do anything just because. Has no goodness in his heart to do anything in the name of it. Watching Jimin nearly die in front of him had been the exception to his usual nature; a rare slip-up by an otherwise detached, uncaring man.

Still, whatever you owe him has surely been repaid by now. Tenfold, if the bloodstains along your collar are anything to go by.

It’s time for Namjoon to let you go.

—

Something is wrong.

Two hours have ticked by and there’s no word from Jimin. No word from Namjoon or Seokjin, either, which is the only reason you’re still in this nauseating motel room and not out on the streets searching for him. Solo jobs don’t go like this. The two of you are always in and out, tragically efficient. Back to where you started and then back on a plane, nothing left behind except a singular bullet hole and another fragmented piece of your conscience.

You’ve had a lot of jobs go wrong, but never two hours.

You’re about three minutes from coming out of your skin. Sick to your stomach with worry, anxiety weighing you down like an anchor. You wouldn’t be able to go out searching for Jimin like this even if you could, and there’s no point in dwelling on that, examining it further. All you can do is wait.

It’s another hour before you hear the click of the lock. You’re nearly on your knees in relief, but you stay rooted to the flimsy mattress. Try not to think about how you’ll have to sleep on it, even though you’ll be up half the night with residual worry. All those lingering ghosts.

Jimin doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

[55.6761° N, 12.5683° E | Copenhagen, DENMARK]

Jimin’s hair is orange when you go to Copenhagen.

Not for a job, just to breathe. You wanted to see the city at Christmastime; Jimin’s never been.

You crack a joke. Point out buildings of similar color, have him stand in front of one as you take a picture. Everyone smiles when they pass the two of you on the street, Jimin’s eyes fond even though he rolls them as you pose him how you want. Still stands against an apricot-colored wall and flashes a smile and a peace sign, cheeks pink from the cold. Does a good job of pretending the two of you aren’t here just for fun, that this is something more.

It’s not.

The two of you fucked in a hotel room in Reykjavik and haven’t spoken a word of it since.

You nearly lost your mind over him in Buenos Aires and haven’t spoken a word of that, either.

Instead, his hand finds yours as the two of you walk around Tivoli Gardens. You marvel at the lights and Jimin marvels at you. You share mulled wine and spiced doughnuts. Jimin tries to drag you on the swings but you plant your feet and refuse, laughing through your refusals. As dangerous as your lives are, motion sickness might be the most. He gets his revenge and poses you in front of a giant nutcracker, then again in front of one of the endless Christmas trees.

Jimin pays for the two of you to decorate honey cakes. You’re surrounded by families with shrieking children and palpable adoration, and it’s all you can do not to wonder if anyone you’ve taken out had ever had something like this. Something that makes your soul warm; something that still lingers in your bones years later.

The two of you take a selfie when it starts to snow. It stings when you have no one to send it to, so it just lives in your phone. Maybe it’s enough.

On another day, Jimin holds your hand through Torvehallerne. This time you marvel at him while he marvels at all the food, eyes wide each time he turns to ask if he should buy something. You always say yes and he always shares, and it’s all you can do not to think about why you don’t have to budget yourselves. Why you’re able to walk through the market and buy whatever you want; how you could buy every item for sale and it wouldn’t make a dent.

(You pick up small trinkets for Taehyung and Jungkook. Not because you want to, but because it feels nicer than remembering that you have no one to buy gifts for. Not really. Not anymore.)

Jimin wants to ice skate, so you do. He holds your hand then, too. More out of necessity than anything else, and he has none of his usual grace. Someone hands you a free cup of hot chocolate, just because. Jimin pouts and then it’s his hot chocolate. It’s all you can do not to kiss away the whipped cream on the corner of his mouth.

Back in your lavish hotel, after countless days have blurred together and Jimin’s fresh from a shower, skin flushed, you finally ask yourself if it’s worth putting up such a fight. If it’s really all that bad to care for Jimin and be cared for in return. If it’s all that bad to be someone else, just for a little while: someone with a normal life who makes a normal living and has a normal capability to love. Someone who isn’t damaged beyond repair.

That will never be you. Not fully, and certainly not in this lifetime, but maybe it could be, a little.

“Jimin,” you say, because you need to try. Jimin loves you in ways you’ll never understand, and you want to be better for him. “We should talk.”

Your voice is small and hesitant, and Jimin hates it. Sees trouble where there’s only vulnerability, so he misreads. Shakes his head. Takes a risk and stands between your legs at the edge of the bed—yours, because there’s two—as he tilts your head back, thumbs pressing into the contours of your cheeks. The scar still sits in the hollow of your throat, and that version of you feels so far away. That life feels so far away.

There’s no violence here. There’s no blood, no fugues. There’s just you and Jimin, whose voice is small like yours when he shakes his head and says, “You should kiss me instead.”

The second time is nothing like the first.

Jimin moves delicately. Feels like silk lace, tastes like spun sugar. Moves both his mouth and his body fluidly, no hesitation, yet he still takes his time. Still pauses to look at you with endless devotion; with awed reverence. Makes a map of your body and marks all his favorite places with his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he says. Speaks the words against the skin just beneath your ear. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, just have to ask.”

What you want isn’t tangible, isn’t possible, so you stay quiet. Thread your fingers through Jimin’s hair, gasp when he mouths along the column of your throat. Jimin reserves all his softness for you. Bathes you in it. Would kill anyone to keep it that way.

So you say, “Want your mouth,” and let slip a quiet moan when he gives you what you’ve asked for. When he situates himself between your thighs and sucks and licks until you’re writhing, making a mess, grasping fruitlessly at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, only calming when his hands find yours and your fingers interlock.

Jimin mouths at you until you’re trembling. Until you’re needy and desperate, hips moving on their own, fucking yourself against his face. Until nothing exists except the heat in your belly, the stars behind your eyelids, the heady, fucked-out sound of Jimin’s voice as he talks you through it, murmurs praise against your cunt.

Jimin mouths at you until you forget.

This isn’t your life. This is not something you can have.

But, in the grand scheme of things, what does it matter? You’ve made peace with death, and there’s only one of two ways it’s going to come for you in the end: by Namjoon’s hand or someone else’s. So what does it matter?

This time, Jimin fucks you slow. Kisses you with your taste still in his mouth. Thumbs over a hardened nipple just to see what earns him a reaction, and what you truly want is more time—something else that’s impossible.

Jimin’s hair is orange when you think you might be in love with him.

[ 48.8566° N, 2.3522° E | Paris, FRANCE ]

Jimin’s hair is pink when—

“Sit,” he says, gesturing to the toilet.

Soaks a washcloth in warm water. Wrings it out. Stands in front of you, and there’s water dripping onto the floor and Jimin doesn’t care, doesn’t seem to see anything in this moment except for you, your hands covered in someone else’s blood, and he reaches out, gently grabs your wrist. Palm up. Someone else’s blood. Everything smells like copper and iron. Looks too surreal beneath the fluorescent lights of this hotel bathroom for your mind to make sense of it.

There is care in the way Jimin cleans your hands. There is tenderness in the way he both refuses to see what you really are and the way he’s the only one to ever see you so entirely, when you look down at the blood he’s washing away and all you can see is stigmata. When all you see is sin.

“I know you don’t love me,” he says, and there is a conviction in his words that stuns you into silence. “Not the way I love you, anyway.”

That tenderness is still there as he says this. As he presses the wet fabric into the meat of your palm, wipes the stains away, and the warmth is as calming as it is undeserved. It feels like something forbidden. It feels like salvation and condemnation all at once, like whatever sick depravity permeates you is contagious, will take over Jimin, too, just from touching you.

Jimin is close enough to reach out and touch. Close enough to see the violence that he exists in alongside you: the rips in his clothes, the scars that decorate his skin. Close enough to know he smells sickly-sweet, just like death. Your hand shakes as it reaches for him and never follows through. Doesn’t want to contaminate him.

“I do,” you finally say. Whatever is in your voice is not conviction. “I can’t.” You suck in a breath, try to steady your breathing. This is where it all comes crashing down, you think, because in all the years you’ve done Namjoon’s bidding, you’ve never cried. You can take life so freely and without thought, but you cannot love Jimin. “Someone like me isn’t capable of it.”

Jimin pauses, the washcloth stuck in the space between your ring and middle fingers. “And who is someone like you?”

Water is still dripping to the floor. Serosanguineous: blood tainting something untouched. Not something one thing or another but both, watery-pink. Looks like Jimin’s hair. “I’ve killed a lot of people,” you answer. “More than I can count. More than I can name. More than the ones that come to haunt me at night.” Your free hand moves to your chest, covers your heart. “There’s nothing here, Jimin. I’m not sure there ever was.”

The washcloth drops to the floor, and all that blood belonging to a man whose name you never bothered to learn before you put a bullet between his eyes finds a new place to rest. “I think,” he begins, clasping your unclean hand in his own, voice dropping to a whisper, “you forget, sometimes.” You gasp as he places your palm to his cheek, drags it across his face, smears a stranger’s blood across his skin. “That we’re the same.”

Jimin is always overwhelming, but the love he has for you is even more so. It consumes you entirely, embeds itself beneath your skin, makes a home, would tear you apart, body and soul, to return to him.

[ 47.4979° N, 19.0402° E | Budapest, HUNGARY ]

Jimin’s hair is lavender when it all goes to shit.

“You’re being followed.”

Seokjin’s voice is garbled through the earpiece, tinny and metallic, and you roll your eyes. Some things don’t need to be said, because you’ve known someone was following you for the last three blocks. Average height, black peacoat, close-cropped haircut. Not the kind of person that’d stand out here, and that’s exactly why you’d sent Jimin in the other direction.

“No shit,” you respond in Hungarian, because you already know the man following you doesn’t speak or understand it. “Give me somewhere to go.”

It takes Seokjin a few moments to run the translation. “There’s a side street up on your right,” he answers. “It’s tight, but there’s an alleyway at the end. You can buy some time if you’re quick.”

“Where’s Jimin?”

You pass a vendor selling lángos and duck into the street behind the stall. Just as Seokjin had said, there’s a small alleyway up on the left, and your footfall is near-silent as you break into a sprint to reach it. “Safe,” is all Seokjin says.

You take a second to steady your breathing, knowing you’re good on time—the man following you was close enough to know where you’d turned, but, if you’re lucky, not much after that. That plays on a loop: if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky, if you’re lucky. What is luck, what does it look like, in a life left entirely to chance? In a life with no guarantees?

You tuck yourself away, focus on Seokjin’s metallic breaths. Think about his basement in Seoul, why he’s in it. Ask, “What happened in Addis Ababa?” because it feels important to know.

There’s not much you know about Seokjin’s life. Whatever happened in Ethiopia had been before your time, reduced to hushed whispers and gossip fodder after your arrival. No one spoke of it, Seokjin especially, but every now and then something would slip in the same way weeds grow in sidewalk cracks.

A job gone wrong. A bombing at the consulate with Seokjin inside.

His reply is simple, words spoken carefully: “I loved someone once, too.”

He can’t see it, but you nod nonetheless; an answer that doesn’t require a response, because you know. It’s enough to fill in the rest. What Seokjin’s trauma looks like. Why he doesn’t do field work anymore. Why he prefers the solitude of the basement, rarely a sound beyond the electric thrum of the server racks.

Who had gone in to retrieve him, and why Yoongi has the scar over his eye.

“You loved someone,” you conclude, “and he would’ve been willing to die for you.”

“Yes,” Seokjin says, and it’s like the word’s been punched out of him. Sounds like something repressed, something left to rot in the darkest corner of the world.

Love, to Seokjin, looks and sounds the same as death.

“I think most people spend their entire lives searching for a love like that,” he continues, and if you could see him you think he might look dazed, off-kilter. You think he might be an avatar. Seokjin is prying his ribcage apart, unwrapping the barbed wire from his heart, saying I once was in love and this is all I know of it. “But, to me, in this life, it’s a prison. Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? How do you—I kissed that skin. I worshiped it. I pressed my lips to it with whatever softness was left in me. How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled?” He exhales, all tremor. “You can’t. You can’t.”

You know this all too well. You know what it feels like to look at Jimin and know, intrinsically and subconsciously, that you wouldn’t even hesitate. You’d take and give life to keep him alive and safe. You know that when you exit this world at someone else’s hand his face is the last thing you want to see.

You know it’s a liability.

You know it’s a target painted on your back. Between your eyes.

You know there’s nothing left to say, that this particular conversation has run its course. The two of you sit in an amicable silence, and you hope Seokjin can hear the life that surrounds you, however mundane. Hope he can hear the lángos vendor trying to hawk his goods; hope he can hear a city 8,000 kilometers away; hope he can hear these regular, everyday people going about their lives and remember there’s hope beyond his four walls.

I think you’d like it here, you think, but you don’t dare to say it aloud.

Time passes in a meaningless blur. Could be minutes, could be hours. No one’s come to kill you, so you reckon you’ve long since been in the clear. And maybe it speaks to Seokjin’s idea that love is a prison, because you know something’s happened to Jimin long before Seokjin speaks it into existence.

You’re up and out of the alleyway before you’re told to move. Have no idea where you’re going, but you’re racing through the streets of Budapest with a panic you haven’t ever felt in your life. Feels like quicksand; feels like molasses; feels like you have to wade through all the blood you’ve spilled, now congealed, to get to him.

“Where am I going?” you demand. Your lungs are on fire. In the split-second of silence it becomes a desperate scream. “Seokjin, tell me where the fuck I’m going!”

“The—fuck, the wa-warehouse up on your right.” You can’t think about why he’s crying. “I don’t—I don’t know wha-what’s there, you need to be careful. Please, you have to—”

Twenty seconds and you’ll be there, you’ll be with Jimin, you just need to keep running. You need to keep your head on straight. Remember your training. Remember you’ve built a life in a viper pit.

A man in a uniform is unloading a shipment around the back of the building. Faces away from you, bent at the waist. Takes very little effort to smash his head into the stone exterior and knock him unconscious, pocket his badge. You can’t get stupid now. Tell Seokjin to make sure all the cameras are cut, ask what floor when you shut yourself inside the freight elevator, unwilling to take the stairs and run into anyone who might be waiting. All the way to the top, he says, so all the way to the top you go.

—

Over the course of your life, you’ve made peace with death. Have stared it in the eye more times than you can count. Have dealt it out, evaded it, shook its hand.

You are wholly unprepared for the sight that greets you.

Red. Everything is red—the walls, the floor, what used to be a beautiful parquet pattern in the wood. In the center of the room: two bodies, maybe three. Not much that’d be able to identify them beyond a pile of teeth, no saying whose is whose. Slaughterhouse scraps.

And this is not—Jimin doesn’t work this way. Isn’t his MO. Jimin’s kills are elegant and neat, topped with a bow. What you see before you is ultraviolence. It is unhinged, it is fury, it is a complete loss of control. It’s what love looks like to Jimin, because he sits at the very edge of a rotted chair, legs crossed. Face streaked with blood, clothes covered in it.

“Jimin,” you say, because what else is there?

He tilts his head to the side, smirks a little, looks at you beneath his lashes. Eyes that used to find you across a room and calm you. Eyes that have locked onto you in the throes of pleasure. Eyes you’ve seen yourself reflected in, bathed in love and adoration.

Eyes that now contain nothing.

“Jimin, what the fuck happened?”

He removes his gloves with his teeth and doesn’t flinch away from the taste of iron. “They said they hurt you,” he states simply, “so I did what needed to be done.”

“What—” Nausea claws at your throat; for the first time, it’s all too much. This isn’t Jimin. This isn’t your Jimin, who smiled as you posed him against apricot walls in Copenhagen, who took a bullet to the stomach to protect you and never, ever told you. This is not the Jimin who wasted the last of his goodwill on loving you. “What did you do?” you whisper.

He rises to full height and it makes you flinch. You are scared of Jimin for the first time in your life: scared of who he is in this moment, what he’s capable of. And he sees it, lets that brand of anguish overtake him. Reaches for you before he decides against it and lets his hand drop to his side. Says, “I would never hurt you,” as if the words could brand themselves into your skin so you’d never forget.

“No, you’d just—” You squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t think about how one of the men nearly embedded into the floor was the one trailing you earlier.

Instead, you think about Seokjin: Once someone is willing to die for you, how do you keep them alive? You think about: How do you look at that same skin and know you’re the reason it’s mangled? You think about: In this life, it’s a prison.

You drop to your knees. Let the blood seep through your clothes and into your skin, undeserving of shying away from it.

Namjoon should’ve let you go.

You think about the men in front of you. Who they were, who they loved. The grief all of this is going to leave behind, and it becomes impossible to breathe. You grasp at your throat, think about all the times you’ve been strangled and who’d been there to cut the rope. There is no limit to Jimin’s devotion, and you understand now, how it drove Yoongi to madness. How he loved someone so much he would’ve retrieved their corpse from a building and how that same person can no longer bear to look at the damage they’d caused.

“This isn’t love, Jimin,” you choke out.

He stands in front of you. Stigmata. You’re worshiping at the altar of some kind of devil. At least his hands are clean when he places his fingers beneath your chin, forces you to look up at him. “What is it, then?”

“Destruction.”

A quiet huff of cruel laughter. “See, this is the difference between me and you, darling.” He takes back his hand, runs it through his blood-streaked hair, and your chin sags to your chest without his support. “Because I already knew that. Because I have destroyed myself every single day loving you.” He squats down, eye-level, and he says, “I need you to listen to me when I say this, sweetheart: you do not love me the way I love you, because I would do worse. When it comes to you, there is nothing on this earth I would not destroy to keep you safe.”

He clears his throat. Collects whatever’s in his mouth and spits onto one of the bodies. “If this is enough to have you tucking your fucking tail between your legs, then go, because this doesn’t even scratch the fucking surface.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything, and sometimes that says it all.

Jimin presses a kiss to the top of your head. Makes a call. Cleaners will be here soon, he says, better get going.

You watch him go.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair is black when Namjoon calls the meeting.

He takes the seat across from Namjoon’s desk because they don’t meet like this often. Assignments are usually manila folders slipped under doors, hushed whispers in hallways confirmed with a nod or a text on a burner phone. Assignments are not last-minute assemblies in conference rooms and offices.

But the way Namjoon is looking at him, with his clenched jaw and a gaze that’s meant to look barbed to anyone who doesn’t actually know him—Jimin doesn’t need to ask what this is about.

Had he bothered to look, he would’ve known by the way you stood in the far corner of the room, face obscured by the mid-afternoon shadows. Yoongi’s close to you, for some reason: dressed head to toe in black, perched on a lateral file cabinet, using a metal corner to sharpen his switchblade. Just like a harbinger of death. Some sort of fucked up omen, a warning that’s come too late.

Didn’t I tell you this would end badly, he hears Yoongi taunt in his head. This is what happens when you lay with trash.

Easy for Yoongi to say when he doesn’t know what it means to be cared for by you. Doesn’t know how it feels to give in to the freefall and plummet at your feet, stripped back and laid bare. Doesn’t know how it feels to kiss secrets into your skin like constellations, to map his tongue along every unspoken confession.

Easy for Yoongi to say, because he doesn’t have to survive the aftermath. Doesn’t have to feel the heartbreak, the agony of having you and watching as you slip through his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t have to struggle just to breathe, doesn’t have to endure the nights staring at the ceiling, watching as the daylight creeps into the corners of his vision. Doesn’t have to watch you looking so unaffected.

“Jimin.” Namjoon’s tone is flat, needlelike.

Behind him, Yoongi chuckles lowly. “What?” Jimin asks, his gaze trained on the painting behind Namjoon’s head. Looks like one he’d seen in Berlin, the time the two of you had gone just because and spent an afternoon ducking in and out of museums to escape the rain.

When he closes his eyes, he still sees the raindrops stuck to your eyelashes. The beads of water rolling off the sleeves of your leather jacket. How blinding your smile had been. The laughter in your voice as you ordered beer after beer after beer for the two of you in flawless Berlinisch. A brief, fleeting glimpse at normalcy. At the kind of life the two of you could have if you were just… different. Lived different lives. Were different people.

“You’ve gotten sloppy.”

Namjoon’s words are a cold bucket of water. Snap him back to reality, yank him back to the present where he’s forced to leave those river-lined streets behind. You’re silent and Yoongi’s still snorting laughter. “Okay,” is all Jimin can bring himself to say.

Jin had gotten sloppy once, too, and Namjoon stuck him down in the basement to work logistics. Might not be so bad, Jimin reckons. He’d be away from you, spared of this fucking misery. “So you know that’s unacceptable.”

Jimin just shrugs, resigned to his fate, whatever it may be. “I’m reassigning the both of you,” Namjoon continues. “You’ll both have new partners for your next assignments, since you clearly can no longer be trusted together.”

“Who?” Jimin manages to choke out.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly having expected an argument. “You’re being sent to Shanghai with Jungkook. You,” he says, turning his attention to you, “are going to Moscow with Taehyung.”

She’s fond of Taehyung, Jimin wants to say. But you’d been fond of him too, once upon a time, and that’d only ended in heartbreak, so who fucking cares.

They’re cruel, the tricks Jimin’s mind plays on him. How he convinces himself you look pained. How his fingers wring together at the thought of entrusting his life in the hands of someone else, someone new. At your life being just as at stake; at Taehyung being tasked with keeping you alive. Would you die for him, too, the way you’d always told Jimin you would for him? Would Taehyung take a bullet to the stomach to keep you safe the way Jimin had?

Even more cruel is the way you scoff, pushing yourself off of the wall as you fold your arms across your chest and say, “That’s bullshit, Kim Namjoon.”

No one talks to Namjoon that way except you.

Yoongi’s knife stops twirling. Just like a bird sensing a storm, senses on high-alert as he flicks his gaze over to you. “I’m sorry?” Namjoon says. “What part of Jimin losing his mind and nearly outing all of us seems like bullshit to you?”

“Hm, let me think,” you retort, a manicured finger tapping against the hollow of your cheek. “The part where you’re reassigning me for someone else’s mistake?”

Which part was the mistake? Jimin wants to ask. Needs to know how much you regret. Was sleeping with you the mistake? Falling in love with you? Getting too caught up in all these daydreams and letting reality get away from him?

“This organization is more important than Park Jimin getting his goddamn dick wet,” Namjoon snaps. “Keeping all of you safe—keeping you alive—is more—”

You scoff. Take an entire container of gasoline and pour it right on top of Namjoon’s flammable ire. “Then perhaps you’d be so kind as to explain to me why Min fucking Yoongi can fuck damn near everyone in this establishment, yet I have to sit here and listen to your goddamn mouth—”

Jimin doesn’t think Yoongi even knows his arm is moving.

There’d just been the trading of barbed words. His own name being spoken into the ether. Yoongi’s arm moving away from his body, switchblade clasped tightly between his fingers as he plunges it into your flesh.

Jimin watches it puncture your arm in slow motion. Feels the bile in his throat, the heat in his belly. Looks first at Namjoon whose jaw has gone slack, skin pale, as he stammers over words that won’t come. Then he looks at Yoongi—expects to find shock or guilt but finds only a muted disinterest and flared nostrils.

Finally, he looks at you. Watches the white cotton sleeve of your shirt slowly turn red and sticky-wet. Watches as your lips move around syllables and vowels and consonants Jimin can’t decipher.

“—fucking piece of shit, this is my favorite shirt! I’ll never get all this goddamn blood out of it—”

Jimin thinks he hears Yoongi say you deserve it. But Jimin isn’t really thinking much as he clambers out of his chair and moves in Yoongi’s direction. Doesn’t think at all as he lets instinct take over, lets adrenaline steer him headfirst into yet another bad idea.

He’s always known there’d come a day he’d be face-to-face with the sight of your blood. Had always known it’d come from someone else’s hand. Had always promised himself that hurting you would be the last thing anyone ever did.

Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Yoongi’s throat and he finally understands it—the joy Yoongi finds in taking life.

“What’s the matter, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi taunts. Jimin tightens his grip. Suddenly hates that fucking scar across Yoongi’s eye. “You’re never on clean-up duty. Always make your girlfriend do the dirty work. Finally grew some fucking balls, huh?”

“Fuck you,” Jimin says stupidly. Can’t think of anything more to say. Not that he needs to. Wrapping your hands around someone’s throat sends enough of a message, he thinks.

Namjoon’s still tongue-tied as you yank Yoongi’s blade from your arm, immediately pressing your other hand over the wound to stem the bleeding. The sight of your blood is making Jimin dizzy; the smell of the iron hanging in the air. All he wants to do is choke the life out of the man in front of him, but more than that, he just wants to hold your hand. Wants to comfort you, even though he knows you don’t need it. Not from him, not from anyone, but he still wants to. Wants to press his lips to the sweat at your brow.

And Yoongi can see it, too, because he starts laughing. It’s an odd, fractured noise. Jimin isn’t sure if he’s ever heard him laugh before, decides he also hates the way it sounds. Feels all wrong watching it leave his crooked smirk. Makes Jimin’s stomach plummet to the ground.

“Oh, you’re fucked, aren’t you?” Yoongi teases around Jimin’s slackened grip. “You weren’t just fucking her, you’re in love with her.”

Weird how Jimin is the one with his hands around someone’s neck and feels like he’s the one suffocating.

[ 31.2304° N, 121.4737° E | Shanghai, CHINA ]

Jimin watches the life drain from an innocent woman’s face and feels nothing.

Jimin watches Jungkook cut a man down and feels even less.

When it’s over, he cleans up wordlessly and doesn’t eat for three days.

[ 37.5665° N, 126.9780° E | Seoul, SOUTH KOREA ]

Jimin’s hair has faded to brown by the time he returns from Shanghai.

The more complicated job had gone to you and Taehyung. Jimin had tried not to take it personally. The Russian hits are always unnecessarily violent and Jungkook still isn’t fully trained. There’s still a phantom pain in Jimin’s stomach that warns him of the consequences of taking on more than he can chew. So, sure, Shanghai had gone fine, but his mind had been nearly 7,000 kilometers away the entire time.

Good thing he’d returned to Seoul unscathed, too, because he’s sure Namjoon would’ve eliminated him without a moment’s hesitation if he’d fucked up again.

But Shanghai had only served to prove the leader right. Jimin can’t work with you anymore. Can’t focus, can’t stomach the violence, can’t keep his goddamn head on straight.

He sighs as he glances at Jungkook to his right. Jimin had watched him murder two men in cold blood not even thirty-six hours ago and now he’s doe-eyed and sucking down his third banana milk of the morning. It really makes his head spin, being paired with this grown-up infant of a man now instead of you, but for all of Jungkook’s apparent shortcomings, he’d kept Jimin alive. He isn’t dead.

And then you walk in with Taehyung and he wishes he was.

Because you’re laughing and Taehyung’s got his arm slung around your shoulder and you look happy. It’s the kind of happiness that should be contagious, bloom warmth in his chest, but it doesn’t. It just takes the last frayed strand of hope he has and sets flame to it.

You don’t look like you miss Jimin at all. Don’t look like you’ve lost sleep or skipped meals.

“Didn’t take you long, did it?” Jimin says, because he’s wounded and lashing out. Not because he means it.

You must know he doesn’t, too, because you don’t react. “Watch your mouth, Park Jimin,” Taehyung warns, because he doesn’t know, and this only sets Jimin off more. You don’t need defending. Or had you, and Jimin had simply thought it wasn’t his place to provide it? That you wouldn’t want it?

“Or what, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung is cherubic. It’s part of his charm, one of many reasons why he’s so effective. If you’re looking to die, you look for the guy who looks like Yoongi, not the one who smiles wide and warm like Taehyung. So when he sets his jaw and pokes his tongue into his cheek and says, “Or I’ll cut your fucking head off, you stupid fuck,” your attention is finally piqued.

“I’m so sick of this,” Jungkook wails, banana milk tossed carelessly in the trash. “All of you need to get your fucking shit together!”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the same time you pretend to inspect your nails. “Is that why you’re so temperamental, Chim?” Taehyung prods, looking every bit the pretentious, murderous angel he is. “Because you got sent to China on a babysitting mission while the grownups did real work?”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook snaps, rising to full height. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“Oh? Could’ve fooled me.” Taehyung’s words are razor-sharp and smell like kerosene. “Tell me, then: were you on babysitting duty? Had to look after our precious little Jiminie while he nursed his broken heart?”

You sigh, full of faux-exasperation, and place a gentle hand on Taehyung’s forearm. Dig your nails in just enough to be a warning, and if Jimin hadn’t been looking he’d miss it: the way Taehyung deflates instantly, anger dissipating like smoke, back in control. Just because you’d touched him. Just because you were there. Jimin knows that touch, how it feels to be under your control, and it makes his chest ache. Makes everything feel like it’s sitting wrong in his stomach, and he’s either going to be sick all over Namjoon’s overpriced fucking rug or wrap his hands around Taehyung’s throat the way he’d done to Yoongi.

He’s out of his goddamned mind; he feels untethered. Helpless. Like it was always going to end like this, and maybe Jimin knew that and had just ignored it. Maybe now he’s paying the price—maybe he’s finally found something he can’t afford.

Jungkook’s still going off, nasty gaze set on Taehyung because he’s the only one playing along. They’re exchanging words Jimin can’t make heads nor tails of. Words he doesn’t care about. Words that ring empty and hollow because they sound nothing like the way you say his name. Shapeless, unlike the way your lips move around those syllables.

“Jimin,” you say, the sound finally registering and bringing him back down to earth. All he can do is stare. “Can we talk?” Taehyung and Jungkook are still trading barbs.

Wonders how he got here. Looks around the room and wonders if each and every one of them is destined for this same fate, this madness. Wants to tell you why he forgot his vest, why he was three hours late in Argentina. Wants to grovel and beg and leave this place and never look back.

More than anything, he wants to know what it feels like to actually be human.

So he shakes his head. Tries not to be haunted by the way your face falls at the rejection.

There is a scar on his abdomen and a scar on your arm that both tell the same story. There is a man in the basement who is in love with a man above ground and is too weighed down by guilt to do anything about it. There is a man here who plays god, has soldiers to do his bidding, and there is very little here that Jimin has only for himself.

The two of you will have that conversation, but he needs to be human, first.

[ 34.6901° N, 135.1956° E | Kobe, JAPAN ]

This is a waste of your fucking time.

Whatever Namjoon had thought would be here doesn’t seem to exist. Yoongi can barely tolerate you on a good day, threatens to stick a dagger in your neck at least twice an hour, but the more time the two of you waste chasing ghosts, the closer he comes to unraveling entirely.

“Stop fucking staring at me,” he snaps, blowing the smoke of his cigarette right in your face.

You tut. “But you’re so beautiful, Yoongi, I just can’t help it.”

He digs his switchblade from his boot. Makes a show of flipping it open. “I can cut your fuckin’ eyes out of your skull,” he intones. “Maybe that’ll help.”

In your ear, Jimin’s laughter rings like crystal.

Ricochets off of all the corners of Seokjin’s basement, makes the echo sound warped through the earpiece. “Please tell Yoongi-ssi to keep an eye on the man with the shaved head. In front of him, roughly sixty degrees to his right.”

You relay the message. Watch as Yoongi transforms—sharpened gaze, rigid posture, disappears into the shadows. More apex predator than man. “And me?” you ask.

“Backup,” comes Seokjin’s voice. “We haven’t found your mark yet.”

You hum. Pick up the cigarette Yoongi left behind and stick it between your lips. Smoke it nearly to the filter. “You got it, boss,” you tease, just because it flusters him.

“I’m—that’s not—knock it off.”

Exhale. Stub out the cigarette. Butt in your pocket. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says, and his voice is soft, sounds like spun sugar. “Stay alive, all right?”

Jimin’s hair isn’t dyed at all.

if you've read this far: thank you so, so much! i am more appreciative than i can put into words. this is very different from what i typically write, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.

i would love to hear your thoughts if you have any. <3

[sleepinthrumyalarms]

— smoke some, drink some, pop one

pairing: vada cavell x fem!reader

warnings: smut, drug use, lesbian sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight roughness, unnecessary euphoria references

summary: you smoke dope. vada admits she has never eaten a girl out before. a practical demonstration ensues

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this was written under the influence of a travis scott song. expect anything. enjoy

You stare at the clock hanging above the blackboard anxiously, kicking your leg under the desk. The last few minutes of the last period always seem to stretch miles into infinity, and your patience is barely as flexible. The voice of the teacher has long since become background noise, the talk of equations and trigonometry and the finals week and how unprepared you were for it the last thing on your mind.

You pick your phone up for the millionth time to look at the messages still hanging and marked as unseen on your screen, eyes focusing on Vada’s name followed by an emoji of a puppy and a black heart.

‘got us enough to roll one’

‘just one tho’

‘don’t wanna end up like last time’

You chuckle quietly – the sweet memories of you and Vada skinny dipping in a pond at night and then showing up half-naked at Nick’s door are definitely the ones you treasure most, even though you can barely piece them together.

You look out the window, lost in thought. Your teacher asks you a question – and then you're saved by the sound of the bell ringing across the building.

As soon as you hear it you’re up and all but bolting out the door, muttering a quick ‘bye’ to the teacher to maintain your good girl image that, to be honest, has been hanging by a thread ever since the day you started dating Vada.

Not that you really care about their opinion. You just don’t want the principal to call your mother again.

You speed walk through the corridor, try to remember which floor was Vada’s class on, before you’re stopped by a pair of hands wrapping around your waist.

“Hey there pretty girl.”

You squeal in surprise, turning around in your girlfriend’s arms. She’s grinning at you annoyingly, the little shit, but the small dimple on her right cheek makes it impossible to be mad at her.

“Fuck, Vada,” you huff, pinching her shoulder half-heartedly, “I’ve got a weak heart, remember?

She shrugs, leans in to kiss your pout away.

“Sorry. I got out early. Wanted to wait for you since apparently someone's not interested in answering any of my texts anymore.”

You kiss her back, smiling apologetically, “I was too excited to see you, I guess.”

The brunette hums, lacing her fingers with yours, “Where to then?”

You think about inviting her over to your place – it’s closer to school, and your mom is working till late evening, but the rationality clicks quicker. Your mom also happens to work as the district attorney of the town – you’re pretty damn sure she knows what pot smells like, and would be able to smell it hours after you and Vada have fucked beyond the common sense of ventilating the house.

So you do the next best thing, one that won’t get either of you in trouble – you hotbox in your girlfriend’s car. You realize it might soon become the best thing, because it hits so much better.

Vada gets greedy with the joint a few times – you have to remind her it’s puff puff pass, not puff puff kiss your girlfriend so she lets her guard down then puff again.

In a few minutes you’re in her lap and making out with her like it’s your last day on Earth, the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths when you accidentally press the horn with your butt a few times, the honking sound mixing with your laughter.

You can barely make Vada’s face out by the time the last of the joint fizzles out and starts to burn your fingertips, the smoke filling the car up to the brim, but her eyes stand out amidst the choking whiteness, her pupils almost heart-shaped as she watches you with a dopey grin.

When you open the door the smoke drifts up the sky in big clouds, and breathing clear oxygen almost feels weird.

You’re still giggling slightly as Vada fumbles with her pockets to find her keys, your soft lips pressing to the side of her neck in sweet pecks making the process of finding them unnecessarily hard.

She shushes you when you finally step inside, listening for any sounds, before closing the door behind you. As soon as you realize you’re alone in the house, you press your lips against Vada’s impatiently.

“Don’t forget– your shoes,” Vada manages between the kisses, shivering as you slide your hands under her oversized shirt, “I’m serious, you horndog. Mom hates it when the floors are dirty.”

You groan into her lips, pulling away to untie your Jordans, shaking on your unstable legs slightly, and make your way up the stairs into her room. Vada opens the window to let the fresh spring air sweep through the room, hoping it’ll be enough to help the smell of weed wear off your clothes and hair.

“Wanna watch a show?” She asks, gesturing to her laptop as you sit on her bed, crossing your legs.

“Mhm. You’re thinking Euphoria, aren’t you?” You snort, watching as your girlfriend slides next to you, “Because I think we’re pretty much in one.”

“So, like,” Vada trails off, her hands coming to rest on your hips in what she thinks is a subtle movement, “Would that make me Rue, then?”

She plays with a string on your pants, feeling almost embarassed about the corny things she's saying.

“And you – Jules?”

You hum, tilting your head with a coy grin, try and mull her innuendo over in your baked out mind. The comparison does seem familiar – especially with Vada’s puppy love towards you.

“Well, I liked their duo in the first season but... weren’t they, like... extremely toxic later on?”

Vada finally pulls in you to sit on her lap, your thighs bracketing hers, and it’s such close proximity you can count all the pretty freckles scattered across her face. You’d probably get lost at fifty, way too high for mathematics of any kind, even if it’s this romantic.

“You’re right. Fuck Euphoria,” she whispers, her gaze sliding to your lips, and you don’t waste any more time to press your lips to hers.

Kissing Vada has always been something to look forward to – warm and pleasant, makes your stomach flip when she’d bite your bottom lip and lick at your teeth. Kissing Vada whilst being slightly high is an out of this world feeling. Her nose presses into your cheek, and your palms slide to the back of her neck, fingers twirling her silky brown tresses idly.

You pull away for air, and it gets stuck in your throat as the brunette presses a kiss behind your ear, trailing the butterfly smooches down to your pulse point. Her hands are kept busy under your shirt, fingertips tracing up your stomach to your ribs.

“How many times have you ever been eaten out?”

A sudden but... not at all unwelcome question. You lean back on your hands, humming when her plush lips rest against your collarbone, and purse your lips in thought.

“Mm... once or twice. I don’t really keep any notches on my belt, y’know?”

Her hands tighten around your hips, and you chuckle.

“Drinking vinegar, are you now? Don’t worry. You have an opportunity to top them all.”

Vada averts her gaze suddenly. You frown, lean in to cup her face gently.

“What’s wrong?”

The brunette rubs her thumbs over your clothed thighs, then looks back up at you, a small frown on her face.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“You’ve never... fucked anyone?” You're sure that's a lie – she's fucked you before.

“I’ve never given a girl head.”

You hum, reaching to hold her slightly shaky hands, slowly inching them closer to the waistband of your sweatpants, “I can teach you,” you suggest, biting your lip, “Show you what I like. That cool?”

Vada looks almost mesmerized. She nods, her gaze fixed on your pants, and you giggle as she tugs them down your legs, prompting you to slide off her lap to let her do so, the cool outside breeze hitting your warm skin and rising goosebumps in its wake.

“I listened to a podcast the other day,” she begins, “About cunnilingus. The host said the best advice she’s ever gotten was to google wielding techniques.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, “Huh?”

Vada reaches for her phone on the bedside table, quickly unlocking it and typing something in the search bar. She selects a random picture and shows you the screen.

There are indeed blueprints of what looks like wielding seams, going from bottom to the top. The arrows are forming different patterns – there are zig-zags, crescents, a circular seam and a ‘figure 8’ seam...

For all the ridiculousness, they do seem... practical.

You smile and grab the phone, turning it off and tossing it somewhere back on the bed.

Of course she would do that – research stuff. It’s so fucking endearing it prompts you to wrap your hands around her neck and press a kiss to her cheek.

“Why not stick to the usual alphabet thing, hm?” You offer, “I can tell which letter I’d love the most.”

You lean in to whisper into her ear huskily, “It’s ‘V’.”

Vada shudders, making you smile. Then her hands grasp at your hips, tugging you closer, and your breath hitches at her sudden assertiveness.

The brunette bends her knees so that she’s level with your center and parts your legs slowly. You curse under your breath – you’re pretty much drenched right through your panties, and if Vada was just slightly more sober, she’d probably tease you about it, too. You’re glad she isn’t.

She leans in closer instead, tongue lolling out and pressing against your clothed cunt, licking a stripe up the smeared wetness there. Her fingers slip under the waistband of your underwear, and you tilt your hips up a bit to help her take it off, the movement causing your heat to press further into her mouth, making you whine.

Your panties are off, and so is Vada’s tongue.

She stares long enough for you to feel a bit conscious about yourself, and you move to close your legs on instinct, but her hands keep them apart. She hooks your ankles over her shoulders, shoots you a warning look. Her dark gaze makes you clench around nothing. The shyness and uncertainty is gone like it wasn’t even there.

You’re not sure if it’s weed, or if you’re being tricked, but this version of Vada is... new. Extremely hot, too.

She lowers herself so that she’s inches away from your pussy, her warm breath fanning your swollen clit – you're so strung up that you’re starting to feel a second heartbeat in between your legs. Vada looks up at you again, making sure you’re watching her as she flattens her tongue along your slit, collecting all the warm slick that leaked out from the moment she had you on her lap. She lets out a satisfied groan, and you sigh, hips buckling to meet her.

Despite all your confidence, you feel yourself crumble at the first touch of your girlfriend’s mouth on you – you’ve always preferred this over any kind of penetration, and Vada’s eagerness to please you doesn’t help.

She withdraws for a moment, and you find yourself missing her immediately.

“Is this okay?” She asks, palms caressing your thighs to soothe you.

“Don’t make me beg.” You breathe with a chuckle.

She laps at your folds, groaning at the saccharine warmth of your arousal coating her tongue – then leans back again, and you’re almost whining before she reaches her thumb to rub at your swollen clit, her breathing heavy as she watches you gush around nothing.

“Baby.” You whine pathetically, your knees coming together to try and push her face into you.

Vada doesn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest, her digit circling your sensitive spot, never taking her eyes away, “Hm?”

“Please,” you murmur, voice stifled by the hot arousal burning in your veins, “Want your mouth, baby. Want to cum on your tongue, please.”

The brunette digs her fingers into the soft flesh of your hips before wrapping her plump lips around your clit, gently sucking, and your thighs tighten around her head at the sudden overwhelmingly good feeling coursing through your body. You almost can’t believe how good it feels – how good Vada is, almost naturally talented at making your toes curl as she mouths at your dripping pussy, keeping a burning grip on your quivering legs. The immense amount of pleasure is so sudden you’re practically sobbing her name, your stomach tensing and hips bucking with each calculated flick of the girl’s tongue. The sheets under you are considerably darker than the rest, a pool of your cum along with the brunette’s spit dampening the area.

You’ve heard that drugs can expand your consciousness, but to such a degree that has you seeing stars as Vada eats you out like it’s her second nature...

Her tongue slips between your walls suddenly, causing you to arch your back into the air, hips rolling into her face. Her tongue continues to lap confidently, going in circles around your entrance. A shaky sigh leaves your lungs, and you have to clench your eyes shut.

“Vada, oh my god,” you breathe shakily, your voice tight and high, feeling you stomach coil, “I'm gonna cum– Fuck, fuck, Vada."

Her lips find your clit again, and that’s what sends you over the edge, your thighs clasping around her head so tight she swears her ears start to ring.

You shiver as the brunette drinks you up hungrily, your legs easing their hold on her, chest heaving with shuddering gasps.

“Oh, Vada. Fuck,” you mutter, resting your forearm over your eyes as you try to calm your speeding heart, “That was so... so good, baby. I think you lied to me. Either that, or you’re... a natural.” You chuckle breathlessly, raising a shaky hand to swipe some stray hairs from your forehead.

Your legs move to unhook themselves from the girl’s shoulders, taking pity on her most likely strained muscles, but Vada’s grip turns bruising on your legs. You’re pushed back further into the pillows suddenly, and before you can let out a single peep in alarm, she’s on you again.

Her hands reach to grasp under your knees, bending your legs up, your pussy spread open for her. She doesn’t relent — her hands hold your thighs as she all but buries her face in your heat, the movements of her tongue harsh. Fast. Merciless.

The sudden aggressiveness makes you let out a broken moan, your hands darting to tread through Vada’s hair, wanting her closer but away at the same time, the painful pleasure too much for your scrambled mush of a brain to handle.

“Oh my god, Vada!”

She leans away for a moment to trace two separate stripes from your entrance up to your clit with the tip of her tongue, and you whine, your foggy mind realizing that she has actually just done the letter thing, before she’s back on you like a hungry beast, jaw hanging open to wrap her mouth around your seizing cunt with an obscene slurping sound.

Your back arches as you cum harder than before, throwing your head back against bed and squeezing your eyes shut, your girlfriend’s name tumbling out of your mouth in an almost pornographic moan. You whine as Vada laps at your center with purpose, licking you clean, before pulling away mercifully.

There’s a cocky wolfish grin on the brunette’s face as she watches you open your eyes slowly, trying to compose yourself.

“How was that for a notch on your belt, hm?”

Shit. If you didn’t just experience the most intense orgasm in your life, you’d scoff at the smugness of her tone.

“I’m gonna be honest... I wasn’t sure I’d be into... that,” you say shakily, “But I guess I am now. Jesus Christ, Vada.”

“Just Vada is fine.” She gently caresses your hips, leans down to kiss your jaw lovingly, “Now...”

Her fingers lift the hem of your shirt up to your chest, blunt nails grazing the flesh under your breasts – she watches them rise and fall with your unsteady breaths.

“How about I salt the earth behind me so that no one ever stands a chance of owning you the way I do?”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hiii <3 can i get something with Tara? i miss her. she and reader have a sleepover and they break friendship rules. smut if you can pls

I have not written girl smut a long time, but with the release of the new Mean Girls in theaters...the words come easily (did I say that? no I didn't)

Warnings: 18+, spoilers for scream 5, nipple play, clit play, fingering

—

You and Tara have been having sleepovers at her house since you were ten. Unfortunately, they had to be paused during Tara’s recovery as she was taking a lot of medication that made her sleepy and, with her broken leg, her cast was taking most of her small bed. Not ideal for sleepovers.

Two months went by, and now her leg was fully healed…which meant sleepovers could start again. 

Like we used to.

‘’I got popcorn and M&Ms this afternoon for the movies,’’ Tara informed as you walked in with your backpack on your shoulder.  

The air felt different as you stepped into Tara's house. Although you hadn’t been there when she got attacked, you couldn’t help but imagine the scene every time you were in her doorway or kitchen. How scared Tara must have been when she opened the door and got greeted with a knife in her stomach. 

You nodded as you took off your shoes and jacket. ‘’Have you picked a movie yet?’’ 

‘’No. You can pick something you like. It was your turn, right?’’ 

Although you didn’t have sleepovers, you’ve been in Tara’s bedroom many times during her recovery. She was sleeping a lot of the time, but you stayed by her side. You even set up fairy lights for her because she didn't feel comfortable alone in the dark. Being brutally attacked leaves trauma behind. 

‘’Have you picked yet?’’ Tara asked, walking in with a huge bowl of popcorn. 

You pulled yourself out of your thoughts and snapped your head toward the bedroom door. ‘’Eh, no. I have not. Do you want horror or a rom-com?’’ 

‘’We can do horror.’’ She climbed on the bed with the popcorn and got under the blankets, her soft leg brushing yours as she settled in comfortably. 

‘’Are you sure?’’

Tara nodded. ‘’No slashers, though,’’ she warned. 

The movie turned out to be a complete mess. You should have read letterboxd reviews before starting it. Between the bad acting, the cheap jumpscares and the storyline that had so many loopholes, you couldn’t tell which was worse. 

Sam came home from work just as you were starting the second movie, stealing some of your leftover M&Ms before going for a shower. Tara complained and threw popcorn at her, making you laugh. 

You let Tara pick the second movie. It was better than the first one, but it had a lot of sex scenes in it. Usually, you didn’t mind sex scenes. They were part of a lot of horror movies nowadays. What made it uncomfortable was how close to Tara you were while watching them. You tried shifting your eyes from the screen, but the brunette with small tits reminded you of your best friend…which you were dying to make a move on.

When the movie ended, Tara turned off the tv and you laid down on your side, pulling the covers higher. It wasn’t cold, just a habit. 

‘’Did you not like the movie?’’ Tara asked in the semi-obscurity, her face close to yours on the pillows. 

‘’It was good,’’ you lied.  

‘’Then why were your eyes off the screen most of the time? You can tell me if you didn’t like it. I’m not gonna get mad and give a whole speech about how great it was like Mindy does.’’

A small laugh left your lips. Mindy had very loud cinephile opinions. You can’t just casually watch a movie with her. It was entertaining to watch her and Amber debate on movie nights. They had different preferences and often contradicted each other’s opinions. 

But that won’t be happening anymore. 

‘’You’re my favorite person,’’ you quietly confessed, the words getting out before you could stop them. 

‘’You’re mine too,’’ Tara responded, her voice small and quiet. She inched closer, her brown eyes looking right at yours. ‘’I missed this — us,’’ she added. ‘’I’ve probably said it already, but thanks for being there. I don’t think I would have gotten through all of this without someone to anchor myself to.’’

Amber’s betrayal had been hard on Tara. Unlike body pains, they couldn’t be appeased by painkillers. 

You reached out and gently grabbed Tara's hand, your thumb brushing over the raised scar. ‘’I’m always gonna be there for you.’’

‘’Promise?’’ She inched closer again; her breath ghosting your lips. 

You nodded. ‘’Promise,’’ you repeated, praying you hadn't read her actions wrong as you closed the remaining distance between you, your lips brushing against hers in a tender, hesitant kiss. 

It was over too quickly, your anxiety telling you she wasn't into you and making you pull away. Congratulations, you just ruined your friendship! But Tara quieted that voice, pressing her mouth back on yours again. 

The covers rustled quietly, Tara's hand finding its way to the side of your face, fingers delicately tracing the outline of your jaw. You kissed her back with a fever that made her gasp, a sound that went straight to your core. 

It was difficult to control your impulses. You’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. 

‘’Tara—’’ 

She shook her head, stopping you. ‘’Kiss me.’’ 

So you did. Again.

You didn’t know where this was going, but you knew you didn’t want to stop it. 

You kept your hand on Tara’s waist, not wanting to rush into things, but Tara was whining and rubbing against you, making it harder for you to not straddle her and get your hands and mouth all over her. Or maybe it was what she wanted? 

Fuck it, you said to yourself, giving in and letting your hands wander under her shirt. If you went too far, she would tell you, right? You slowly kneaded her breasts, alternating. Your fingers traced her nipples which made her let out a very faint moan so you flicked her nipple again. She was so responsive and cute.

Starting to feel hot, Tara pulled off her sleep shirt, exposing her small tits. You had seen them before in the P.E. changing rooms, but now it was different. You didn’t feel wrong for looking — well, staring. 

She noticed your eyes on her and her cheeks got hot. ‘’It’s not much, I know,’’ Tara apologized, embarrassed by her small tits. 

Shaking your head, you shut down her insecurity by laying her back on the bed and taking a nipple into your mouth and sucking on it. 

The sensation made her bite her bottom lip as her eyes fluttered shut. ‘’That feels good.’’ 

As you were doing so, you tentatively reached a hand down to Tara’s pajama shorts and teased her over the cotton, which was quickly soaked through. 

She pushed her hips against your hand. ‘’Please.’’ She paused, her breath uneven. ‘’Touch me.’’

You could feel your own arousal soaking through your panties from her words, her small noises making your cunt tingle.  

Ignoring your own needs, you slipped your hand under her shorts and panties. Tara's back arched as your fingers brushed her wet folds, massaged her cunt softly without adding too much pressure. You didn't want to make her moan too loud, Sam's bedroom was right across from hers. 

You gave attention to her sensitive pink clit, continuously massaging your thumb over it and causing Tara to clutch her pillow as jolts of pleasure filled her. ‘’That feels good— ah,’’ she sighed softly, reaching down to tug on her nipples. 

She was so beautiful like this, laying on her back and her body writhing from your touch. You brought your mouths together again, kissing as your hand that wasn't in Tara's shorts traveled down your body to shove your bottoms down your thighs and play with your clit. You whimpered into Tara's mouth.

You continued your motions until you could feel her climax getting close, waves of pleasure rolling through her body with a last buck of her hips, clenching around your fingers with a death grip as her entire body twitched with the aftershocks.

Withdrawing your hand from her panties, you fell back against the pillows and finished yourself, parting your knees and rubbing your clit so fast it made your eyes roll back. Beside you, an out of breath Tara watched with awe as your arousal dripped on her bedsheets, creating a dark patch. It wasn’t long until your climax crashed over you, joining your best friend in her post-climax haze.  

‘’Well, that was one hell of a sleepover,’’ Tara said, a small giggle coming out of her.

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh  @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore  @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti  @bloodyhw  @depthsofdespairr  @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld  @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy  @s-al-em  @darylscvmdumpster  @tommysaxes  @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres  @miqi-16 @not-liah  @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2 @lausley336  @arinexeisnotworking @halforangecuts @l3ndryz  @ilovelandry  @your-platonic-gay-lover @danniackerman  @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam  @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @angelxxrose @lottiefromsam @zoeynicolas @thecrowdedstreetin1944 @cinnamonbun222 @pumkinnroses @cruzgrecia @sunnysunny133696 @aesthetixhoe  @gizmodecaprio

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[fcbooblona]

Sexy Surprise - Rúben Dias

Where reader got her nipples pierced to surprise Ruben.

Author’s note: Hey guys! It’s been 6 years since I’ve last written something and I’m slowly getting back into this world🙂‍↕️ Also, english is my second language, so please be gentle 🫶

I’m totally on for requests and other stuff envolving football! Have a good reading🩷

tw: smut

It was a friday afternoon and you had nothing to do, Ruben left early for training and after doing all of the house chores, boredom took over the place. Feeling bored was one of the things you hated the most, because it allowed your thoughts to go through spirals of random things and it usually ended it up with you wanting to do something crazy.

Which is exactly what happened today.

After getting out of the couch, you decided to take a shower, wanting to feel more refreshed. In the meantime, between taking off your clothes and preparing everything, you stood before the large mirror in your closet, looking at your naked body. You’ve always felt comfortable with how your body is, but now…it seems like something’s missing.

With that thought in your head, you went to the bathroom to take a shower and think about what you could do to change your body just a little bit, when an idea snapped into your head. A couple of days ago, during lunch, your friend told you about how she got her nipples pierced and how it increased her self esteem, and, of course, how things got even more heated in the bedroom. That was exactly what you wanted, a boost to your self esteem that would also work as something to make the sex even better, since Rúben was already obsessed with your boobs, complimenting them every single time you had sex.

You finished the shower and went straight to your phone, searching for the perfect body piercer to do the job. Luckily, you found a good one and booked your appointment for the same day, at 4pm. Since you already have a couple of piercings, the pain was totally manageable and you were super happy about it, getting home really fast, excited to show Rúben the surprise.

It was already 7pm when your boyfriend arrived, finding you in the kitchen, making dinner in just a white tank top and a pair of his sweatpants. For him, this was the paradise. He went behind you to hug your waist with his strong arms, making you jump a little bit, since you haven’t heard anything, and started to kiss your neck.

- Hi, Ruben. I’ve missed you so much. - you said while he sucked on your sweet spot.

- Hi, amor. - he lifted his head to look at what you were cooking. - Is it my favorite pasta? - the smile on his face grew even more.

- Yes, baby, it is. But you have to take a shower first, I can still smell the grass. - you laughed while he pouted.

- You’re mean. - he said on the way to the bathroom.

You finished dinner and started to set the table ready, waiting for Rúben to finish his 1-million-hours-long shower. When he emerged into the kitchen, smelling heavenly, you were already sat on the table, where he joined you and the two of you started to eat dinner and talk about the day. You noticed that your boyfriend’s eyes were navigating between your face and your boobs, probably wondering if something changed, but you kept talking as if nothing happened and he didn’t comment or anything.

Later, you two were laying on the sofa, cuddling and watching some random stuff on tv, when you felt his hands on your waist and some featherlight kisses on your jaw, your turned your face and met his lips, kissing him with passion and soon straddling his lap, turning the innocent kisses into a heated make-out session. His hands were traveling your whole body and quickly found the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to find your perky nipples, adorned by cute metal pieces. When he finally saw it, his brain couldn’t think straight, amazed by the view, the only thing he were able to do were press kisses all over your boob, while saying how pretty you looked.

- I can’t believe you found a way to be even sexier - he said in disbelief, while you tried to hold your moans.

Things got even hotter and now you were practically begging for him to make you cum on his dick, so you reached his pants and grabbed it, stroking it slowly.

- I wanna ride you, Rubes. - you said with puppy eyes.

- I’m all yours, gatinha. - he answered you, knowing how you get even hornier when he speaks portuguese.

You freed his dick completely and took off your pants, aligning it with you entrance, the both of you moaning while you were adjusting to his size, and soon you started to rock your hips back and forth, causing him to groan.

- You look so good riding my dick, baby - he said, almost breathless.

After some time of riding, and being ridiculously horny, you started to feel the pressure building up on your lower stomach, indicating that you were close. You could feel that Rúben was also almost there, since his dick was throbbing non-stop while inside of you. He kept kissing your body, focused on your pierced nipples, obviously, and massaging your clit, while you couldn’t stop moaning.

- Fuck, Rúben, I’m gonna cum - you said, breathlessly

- Cum with me, amor - he said and started to thrust up, finding your body in the middle of the way.

After a couple of seconds, you finally came, releasing your liquids all over your boyfriend, who followed you and filled you up with his cum. The both of you stood there, panting, hugging each other and recovering from everything you’ve done.

- I love you so much, baby - Rúben said to you, while your head was buried in the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin and lifted you head up.

- I love you too, Rubes. - you kissed his lips.

- And before I forget to say it, I. love. your. boobs. - he said, pressing a kiss on each one of your pierced nipples between the words.

I really hope you guys enjoy it and I will appreciate so much if you comment! 🩷

[beomiebear13]

Surprise!

genre: switch!seonghwa (at the end), dom!reader, smut

warnings: blindfold, sensory play, bondage, slight cock stepping??, breeding, riding, pussy eating, degrading, praising, probably more 😭

a/n: this is the longest story I’ve written and there’s not much to say but I hope you guys like it and it’s not proofread cause it’s like 5 am.. (3k!)

A deep sigh left Seonghwa’s lips as he was sat on his knees. The bones of his knees digging into the hard wood floor. His head moved around waiting for any sense of any other being; you.

But before he was like this, he just came back from his concert. He didn’t even change out of the clunky jewelry that was spread around his body. He hadn’t seen you in a while and he was a lot more than ready. Just thinking about what he was about to do for you made heat spread around his body.

He walked into your bedroom, throwing his bags down onto your bed. While scrolling on his private twitter, he saw a video of how to tie himself up. Which is what gave him this idea, but he was glad he saw it. He watched it once more before actually executing it. It was harder than it seemed but after minute of trying and busting into a small panic, he finally got it.

He covered his eyes with a black lace blindfold before tying his wrists together. His wrists were tied together with a similar black lace. It wasn’t tight til the point his fingers were numb but tight enough to where he couldn’t break free. He dropped down to his knees his back facing the front of the bed which was placed in the different direction of the bed. So, when you open the door, the first thing you should be met with is Seonghwa.

And thats how he got here. He was still waiting patiently when he thought he got the time wrong. He was about to get up and check through past messages what you told him, but he heard keys jingle in the front door. He moved on his knees as his frustration got worse.

His breath got heavy but quickly sucked it in and held it when the bedroom door started to open. He held his head down. The light from the living room created a path to his figure. You stepped in the way of the light.

You stood there in utter shock. Not being able to process what you have laid your eyes on. You didn’t expect to come home to this after a long day of work. You’ve been so touch deprived ever since Seonghwa went on tour and opening the door to find Seonghwa sat on his knees, blindfolded for you, made you horny. You saw it was the same outfit from videos of the outfits they wore on tour.

You dropped your bag to the floor, walking up to him. You forced his head up, making him “look” at you even though he couldn’t see anything. His lips parted as he sighed at your touch. It was the slightest of touches but worked him up so much.

You removed your finger, his head staying at the same place you left it. You slowly put your lips on his. He kissed you back, furrowing his eyebrows under the blindfold. Both of your mouths moved together. It was hot and filled with passion, tension, and desperation from the both of you.

Both of you missed this. You both missed the feeling of each others body’s, the feeling of your lips pressing against the others skin and way more. Now you finally have it. Seonghwa’s definitely not expecting you to be gentle with him especially since he’s been gone so long. He can already feel how horny and how much you need him.

But so suddenly, you pulled away from his lips, leaving his titled head and hot figure kneeling below you. You stood up, “I didn’t expect to come home to this, Hwa.” You got no response. Not even a sudden movement. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” His head shot up quickly.

You laughed at his obedience. He started to shuffle lightly and bite his lip. Your eyes fell down to his cock. You shook your head letting out a couple tsks. You pressed the flat part of your heel onto the hard print in his pants. His neck gave out and his head fell down, his jaw dropping at the pressure. You made the motion of squishing a bug on his cock.

“Ah, fuck, Y/n.” He groaned out throwing his head back, drool slowly falling out of the corner of his mouth. You took off your leaned over him, wiping it away with your throw.

“Do you know how pathetic you look right now? Drooling over me stepping on your cock. Are you that desperate?” You asked him. Seonghwa didn’t say anything but by looking at the bottom of his cheeks, he was embarrassed. They were turning a light pink; around the same pink as his hair. “Speak.” You grabbed his cheeks harshly.

“Yes, I’m pathetic, I know I’m pathetic. Only for you, Y/n.” He rambled. That’s what you liked to hear. And he knows it. But after all, you sighed, exhausted from a long day. Your feet were killing you so sat down.

“Take off my shoes.” You spoke. He couldn’t find his way so you helped him shuffle his way in front of you. He bent forward, biting the strap of your heels and pulling it from the buckle. Your shoe fell straight to the ground. He did the same with the other and titled his head upwards.

He nuzzled his cheek in your hand as you touched it, “Good boy,” you said. He whined when you took your hand away. You stood up, helping Seonghwa up himself. His fragile body towered over you.

You walked behind him, freeing his hands. He thought you was going to go easy on him but that was the exact opposite. You walked in front of him, holding his left hand. Grabbing his right hand, you tied them back.

He instinctively covered his bottom half as you yanked his pants down his legs. His hands shook in anticipation and embarrassment. You nodded your head; not like he could see me anyway.

“Thats right, baby. Sit down for me.” You spoke in a soft voice. It was almost siren-like. The way your words rolled off your tongue like a melody. It sounds as if it was music to his ears. The way your tone of voice made him follow every direction you gave him. It was like he was in a chokehold.

His breath trembled as he sat down on the edge of the bed. You ran your finger against his jawline, making him nudge his head up when you go to the end and quickly pulled your finger away. “What are you gonna do to me?” He asked, now looking straight ahead.

“Well, I was thinking, since you surprised me, I’m not going to tell you. Let it be a surprise.” You whispered in his ear. He nodded his head as you nibbled on his ear, kissing down to his jaw and down to his neck. You sucked little marks onto his collarbone. He let out little moans, remembering where his sweet spots were, hitting them right.

His hips moved forward, trying to find any part of your body to grind on. He bit his lip back, feeling so small as you leaned above him. You moved back up to his face and pressed a kiss at the corner of his mouth. Seonghwa tried to kiss you, feeling and smelling your minty breath. You ultimately dodged it cause a whine to leave his mouth.

He always acted like he hated to be teased but he actually loved it. He loved to be humiliated, even if it was in the comfort of his own home. “Oh, please, please, Y-Y/n. I hate when you t-tease.” You moved your hands through his hair.

“Oh, Hwa, baby. Why do you think I do it?” You asked him with a bit of cockiness laced in your voice. Seonghwa threw his head back with his mouth open as you started to roughly palm him in his boxers. He started to huff out moans which, very quickly, turned into whines.

“Y/n, oh, yes!” His voice getting louder and higher. He was so sensitive that it didn’t even surprise you. The moment you took your hand off, he laid on his back, hitting the mattress harshly. His desperate huffs filled the room.

You took this as the perfect opportunity to climb onto his lap. You didn’t stop there though. No. You untied his hands once again. You turned around so your ass was sat on Seonghwa’s chest. He did exactly what you wanted — and what you expected him to do — and wrap his arms around your waist.

You scooted back a little bit, taking his wrists and tying them again so he was stuck holding your waist. You needed him to not be able to move. This is the first time you ever did this. It just randomly popped into your mind while watching a video of him on tour, a couple days before he came home.

Giggling, you leaned forward, taking his hard, leaking and red tipped cock out of his underwear. Furrowing his eyebrows, he bucked his hips up. You gave one slight stroke making him whine and quickly huff.

“Hwa, you ok?” You asked, smirking lightly to yourself. He shook his head quickly. The pants that were once pooled at his ankles, he had now kicked off along with his boots. He sighed heavily, now being free to move his legs more. “Now?” He shook his head again. “Well, tell me what you want, baby.”

“I want you to touch me, Y/n.” He said rather calmly. That made you suspicious so you turned around to see him falling apart behind you. Small wet patches were shown on the blindfold. It turned you on seeing a man, your man, crying.

“How do you want me to touch you, Hwa?” You ran your finger over the slit of his cock. He shuddered and let the whiniest moan you’ve ever heard from him. You bit your lip as heat pooled in your panties. “Want me to touch you like this?”

Seonghwa let the most pornographic moan you’ve ever heard from him as you deepthroated him. You pulled back up but sucked on his tip once. I pulled away when his hips bucked up, wanting more. “Baby, pleaseeee.” He dragged out a whine.

“Hmm.” You said before going back down and bobbing your head up and down. You pushed his cock all the way down your throat, shaking your head before pulling back up. A string of spit was connecting his cock to your lips. Seonghwa gasped and let out a whiny moan.

You sucked in a harsh breath before going back in with a smile. You would switch from fast to slow bobbing. Sometimes pulling back and either licking or sucking his tip.

Every time you’d suck/lick his tip, he’d get louder. You know that is the most sensitive part of a man’s body but from what you have seen in previous porn, the men are never really as sensitive as Seonghwa seems to be.

As you deepthroated him one last time, he pulled his hips back until his cock was almost out of your mouth. Seonghwa then roughly slammed back in. Your uvula brushing on his tip is what really got him to cum. You made your head stay there, no matter how hard it hit deep in your throat. He came with a loud moan.

You were so glad for your raise you got in the previous months before. Being able to upgrade from your thin and dingy walled apartment to a nice 2 story house. One with no neighbors to worry about hearing you fuck your boyfriend.

“Aww, Hwa, baby. You did such a good job. I’m so proud of you,” you praised him. He croaked out a fucked out groan. You untied his hands and kept them untied this time. You weren’t gonna take the blindfold just yet. He’d have to beg for it and you knew he would eventually. He always wants to. Seonghwa loves to see his dick disappear into your wet and warm pussy.

“Ride me. Please ride me. I’be been a good boy..right?” Seonghwa begged you. You licked your lips thinking if you should give it to him.

“I guess you’ve been good enough, Seonghwa. I’ll ride your small and floppy dick. Since you know you can’t even fuck me right with it. So useless.” He bit his lip back as you shamed him. Seonghwa was far from small. Floppy? Think of it as a brick. And not being able to fuck you right? Anything but that. Your last boyfriend was all of the above and much worse. Finding Seonghwa was a life saver. Not only because of his good dick but because he was just a good boyfriend over all.

“Lemme eat your pussy first.” He spoke as you lifted your hips. You stopped as you heard his voice dropped. “Lemme taste you. Please.” You obviously agreed. You could and would never passed on getting eaten out by Seonghwa.

You climbed over his face, his hands coming up to your sides, gripping tightly. You yelped as you were met with a warm tongue but.. something was cold. You shuddered out a moan as you realized it was his grillz. Seonghwa began to desperately make out with your cunt.

His warm tongue shortly tongue fucking you and as your clit was slowly grinding on his grillz. The cold sensation made it hard to contain yourself, “ah, yes, Hwa. Fucking eating me out like you’re starving.” He groaned under you.

The more you moved on his face, the louder you grew. It was also the closer you grew to your orgasm. You soon felt a hard knot tie in your abdomen. You didn’t realize you came until you felt the pressure release and hear Seonghwa, “oh, Y/n, fuck. You taste so good.”

You lifted your hips to see his chin and lips covered in your arousal. It was dripping down onto his neck and onto the bed. You didn’t know you were that wet. But, you expected to cum that much since you haven’t been able to cum without Seonghwa.

“Now, please. R-” he started but squeaked as you slammed yourself onto his dick. You leaned forward, grabbing the lace and tying his hands up again but holding them above him. He whined now being able to touch you. “Please, l-let me touch you. I-I’ve been a good boy. Y-you k-know-know it.” He stutters.

He was far too sensitive. You slammed your hips down on his which caused you to moan loudly. As much as you wanted to keep your dominant aura, Seonghwa’s dick was just too good. Too good not to make any noise. The way his swollen tip abused the fuck against your cervix was breathtaking. And to add on to the pleasure, your clit would sometimes brush against his abdomen.

“Fuck, Seonghwa. How good am I fucking too, huh? I-I bet you wanna see how pretty, ah fuck, my pussy looks swallowing your d-dick. Fuck!” You shrieks quietly as Seonghwa’s dick hit that one spot inside. A singular tear fell from your eye. His moans were getting louder by the minute. The more that you spat at him, the more he wished to see.

“L-let me see. Please, wanna see your pret-pretty, yes, pussy take my fat cock.” He spat back out, trying to keep himself from not thrusting up into you. You didn’t give him permission after all. He moaned loudly as he felt you purposely clench around him multiple times. “Fuck!”

“Seonghwa, I’m cumming.” You breathed out, you let go of his wrists and sat up straight, throwing your head back. You slammed down one last time before your legs quivered slightly. Your legs felt like jelly. But Seonghwa hasn’t came yet.

“N-not coming til you let me see.” He spoke. You obviously weren’t gonna do that. Your baby boy just wanted to see your pretty pussy get absolutely destroyed but you wouldn’t let him. That fueled something in him.

He brought his wrists to his mouth and bit through the lace. Pulling off the blindfold and flipping you over and pressing your face into the pillows. “W-what? Seonghwa, what are you-?” You shrieked as he roughly entered you.

He fucked you ruthlessly all while watching his cock disappear into your wet pussy. The sounds of your juices were echoing back and forth. You let out a loud moan. “You did this shit to your fucking self. Not letting me see my cock abuse this poor pussy. My pussy. It’s all mine.”

Heavy and hot tears fell out of your tear ducts and onto the pillow as Seonghwa rammed into you. Somehow he was still harder than before. His adrenaline was racing all just to see you two fuck.

He suddenly hit that same spot in you which made you cum all over his cock once again. Your whines and moans increased as you felt too overwhelmed and overstimulated. He huffed his way through his orgasm before finally cumming in you.

Seonghwa pulled out of your pussy slowly. Your body fell flat on the sheets with Seonghwa lying on your back, breathing in your ear. He kissed your shoulder a couple times before pulling himself up. He got a hot rag from the bathroom, wiping the cum off of your body and after his body.

He picked up and put you under the covers, moving off all of the stuff that was left on the bed and onto the floor. He laid beside you, too lazy to put clothes on either of you. It’s not like you two weren’t just fucking anyway.

“Y/n, you okay?” Seonghwa asked, moving her hair out of her face. She turned to him and smiled at his pink cheeks and red lips. She nodded, not wanting to talk. Her throat was sore from all the screaming and moaning she did. She hid her face in his neck. He just laughed quietly, “surprise.”

[y2ashlee]

Leona Kingscholar x Female! Reader SMUT

WARNINGS: Sex, bad writing, of character Leona but what fan written Leona isn’t.

Inspiration:

That weird hormone perfume I saw advertised on TikTok.

Author notes:

As we know from the manga, Leona sleeps without a shirt on.

Are they dating? Yes. Is this the couples first time having sex with each other. Also yes.

I looked up mating rituals of lions so that was interesting. Like I knew the female lion was the boss in that case but it’s still pretty interesting. Anyway male lions with stroke or lick the female on their necks, shoulders or backs to initiate the males also bite the female to basically remain in control and it helps with ovulation apparently which sounds bullshit but I guess it works?. Anyway I’ll probs look up stuff for the other non human members of the cast. Though with the fae ones I’ll probably only use part of the animal that they’re associated with since dragons aren’t real and pretty sure Azul’s dick isn’t removable nor is it one of his tentacles.

Anyway also use protection.

~~~

The Prefect of ramshackle dorm had recently gotten herself a bottle of perfume from the school store that smelt lovely, and was on sale. But what she didn’t know was that it was enchanted to make whomever harvest strong romantic feelings towards the Wearer to act upon those feelings in someway Handholding, kisses, hugs etc whenever they smelled it. And unfortunately for a certain lion beast man, these feelings were tripled as his sense of smell was so much better than any humans. She had been wearing the perfume for about a month, still unknowing about the enchantment, but every time the two would cross paths he would get a huge whiff of her intoxicating scent, and when she was in the same room as him for a long period of time, or standing close to him, every time, it got stronger, this particular time she was taking a joint class with his class and surprisingly he showed up to class, but as soon as the bell rang, he quickly got up to leave to get away from her scent. He was stopped by deuce as he wanted to ask him something and she was standing next to him he sighed. “..what..” he said, gritting his teeth. “Sorry I just wanted to ask-..” Deuce said. “Ask, Ruggie.” Is all he said before moving past them to leave. “Are you alright? You look flushed and you’re sweating.” The Prefect asked reaching towards him pressing the back of her hand to his forehead. “My god. You feel hot!” She said surprised. “Do you need to go to the nu-“ He ducked away from her hand a sneer on his face. “I’m fine.” He said turning and walking out of the classroom. “A-alright then..” she said watching him walk away. He practically speed walked to the bathroom walking over to the sink and turning the water on splashing water on his face to calm himself as he let out a loud exaggerated sigh.

Leona retreating or running away continued for the next few days as the Prefect would try to talk to him and ask to hang out with him and whatnot yet he’d avoid any form of physical contact even after she had stopped wearing the perfume. But it was too late the enchantment was already in effect. While she was contemplating and over thinking that he didn’t want to be with her anymore he was trying to overcome all the sexual thoughts and not wanting to hurt her in his aroused and angered state. The smallest whiff of her scent put him in a foul mood because he couldn’t be near her until the enchantment wore off as he didn’t trust himself. But as he watched her from afar all those days he could see how much him avoiding her physically was weighing on her. He let out a yawn as he laid in bed staring at the ceiling trying to sleep fall asleep but finding it hard to do so he sighed grabbed his phone from the desk next to his bed and quickly send her a message.

Leona: Hey, Sorry I’ve been avoiding you.

He sent the first message unsure what to write next. He sighed a growl flowing from his lips as he rolled over onto his side burying his face into his pillow before feeling his phone vibrate before it rang. He looked at the screen seeing that it was her who was calling. He took a deep breath before answering. “..yeah.” He said already filled with guilt. “So, why have you been avoiding me?” She asked her voice soft and low like she was about to cry. He gulped before replying. “You know that perfume you’ve been wearing?” He stated. “Oh, was it too overpowering?” She asked. “Not exactly, it was enchanted..” Is all he said unsure how to phrase what he needed to say. “Basically, it makes me want to…” his voice drifted off. Thoughts of her roaming his mind. “…do stuff….to you..” he said softly his tail swishing slightly. His face flushed. “O-oh, OH!” She said her face also flushing. “Do you not want to do stuff with me..” she said biting her lip. He let out a groan like sigh. “Of course I do, I just-ugggh, I don’t wanna..hurt you..” he said biting his lip burying his face in his pillow once more. “..ok I see..” she said her face more flushed then before. “..are you in your room right now..” she asked. “Yeah..” he replied. “Stay where you are.” She said hanging up and putting her phone in her pocket. His eyes widened realising what she was intending to do. He sighed and put his phone on the desk before pulling the blankets over his head hiding from the cool moonlit night breeze.

The door opened with a small thud. “Sorry.” She winched at the sound before shutting the door slowly. She took a deep breath trying to compose herself before walking over to the bed. “Are you gonna hide from me now.” She said to the lump under the blanket. His tail flicked and swayed as it was free from the blanket which told her that he was happy she was there or annoyed she was unsure. She sighed and sat down on the bed. “It’s okay if you want to do stuff with me especially that kind of stuff but..at least tell me and..let me set the pace..” she said her face flushed as one hand gripped the blanket the other covering her mouth her eyes downcast as she bit her lip. He rolled over and sat up the blanket falling from his face showing his flushed face. “..are you sure?..” his voice low as his piercing green eyes stared at her. Her scent filling his nostrils engulfing him. “Y-yes.” She said removing her hand from her mouth and turning to look up at him with a nod. His eyes widened slightly his thoughts shattering as he lent forward his lips crashing against hers in a sloppy but passionate kiss his tongue pressing into her mouth roaming around like it hasn’t been there in years. He wrapped his arm around her gently pushing her to the bed his other hand caressing her head. He pulls away from her pressing his forehead to her’s as they both pant for breath he sighs breathing in her scent. “Sorry..” he mumbled in his gruff voice as he rubbed his cheek against hers before leaning down and rubbing his head against her neck and collarbone trying to get his scent on her and hers on him. His teeth grazed against her neck before licking it gently.

She let out a gasp at the roughness of his tongue on her neck. He sighed sniffing her once more. “Leona?” She said softly. His eyes widened his face flushing once more in embarrassment as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “You smell good..” he said trying to shove his embarrassment away. “Is this a beastman thing? To sniff, lick and rub against each other?” She asked. “We also bite.” He said his mood turning sour his teeth grazing her collarbone as his piercing gaze stared at her neck. She smiled softly a small chuckle leaving her throat before she placed her hands on his head her thumbs gently rubbing his ears while her fingers massaged his head. He closed his eyes loving the feeling of her touch he’ll never admit it though. “So what kind of things did you think about doing.” She asked continuing her movements. “As long as I’m comfortable doing it then it’s ok.” She said. He stared at her for a moment before exhaling and sitting up pulling away from her. He stared down at her hands rested on her chest as she looked up at him her face flushed. His thoughts were scattered as he looked down at her pinned beneath him.

She placed her hands on he’s cheeks. “Leona?” She said softly. He blinked slowly bringing his face down to her neck giving it a long lick before biting down on it. Not hard enough to break skin but still leaving a mark. She let out a moan like gasp. “Ah! Leona, that hurt!!” She said pushing him away quickly before covering the bite mark with her hand. He scoffed with a chuckle as he rubbed the mark with his thumb. “..I wanted to pin you down mark you as mine and fill you with me..” he said his voice low as his hands gripped the bed beneath them. “O-oh my…” she said her face so flushed that it reached her ears as she covered her face with her hands taking a few deep breaths before replying. “T-then fill me with you. J-just slowly please.” She said her gaze meeting his as she placed her hands on his cheeks. He smirked before leaning down and capturing her lips once more biting her lip before slipping his tongue in his hands moving to her hips lifting her shirt his ruff palms moving against her skin as they traveled upward his thumbs slipping under her bra before pushing it up before cupping her breasts his thumbs flicking her nipples slightly earning a muffled gasp from her as she pulls away from him as they both breathe heavily. “Leona..” she says softly kicking off her shoes before pulling him into an embrace her arms wrapping around him as she kissed him. He smirked against her lips and pulled away from her as he slides his hands down to her leggings slipping them off along with her underwear. She presses her thighs together feeling the coolness of the night hit her exposed parts. He kneels on the floor and parts her legs kissing her thighs gently his canines grazing her skin slightly until he reached her slit leaving a long slow lick up to her exposed bud. She gasped and sat up at the unexpected feeling. All he did was smirk and pushed her down bring her exposed slit closer and licking it once more his fingers gently rubbing her opening before prodding it his finger sliding inside while his tongue licks her exposed bud. She quivers slightly squeezing her thighs together as they rest against his head. He continues to lick while he caresses her insides his motions becoming fast. She covered her mouth with a hand letting out a moan. He pulled away with a smirk as he slid in another finger thrusting them faster as he kissed her thigh before leaving another bite. His tongue licking it as she let out a moan her walls clenching around his fingers. He pulls out his fingers purposely dragging his fingers slowly as he wipes them on his pants before putting her thighs down on the bed. She

With her breathing slightly ragged she watches as he moves away from her and leaning over the bed and rummaged through one of the draws before coming back to her and leaning down and whispering in her ear. “Roll over.” He said in a gruff voice just above a whisper before he kissed her once more. She blinked a few times before nodding and rolling over onto her stomach moving so she was on her knees. Let leant down and spoke softly into her ear. “This is your last chance to back out.” He said a hand resting on her hip. She looked back at him with a soft smile. “Just…be gentle..” she says softly her hands gripping the bed covers. He lets out a scoff as he pulls back ripping a condom packet with his teeth mumbling a reply. “I’ll try.” He said letting out a groan as slid the cool condom over his length shuddering slightly at the feeling. He let out a shakily breath as he pressed his length against her wet outer walls. She looked away from him as she felt his tip prod her entrance obviously a lot more girth then his to fingers. He slid inside her wet walls letting out a grunt at the feeling of her heat around him. She bit her lip her walls clenching around him as she let out a sound she was unsure she could make. He grunted as he started to move keeping his pace slow his hands resting on her hips. She gripped the covers more every time he moved letting out soft almost unheard sounds. His ears twitched at those soft sounds as he continued his movements his tail swishing slightly as he leant over her his chest pressed against her back his thrusts speeding up as he wrapped his arms around her one hand groping one of her breasts the other caressing her stomach. She lets out a louder moan his ears twitching at her muffled moans as she hides her face in the bed covers her eyes clenching shut. He scoffs once more as he rubs his cheek against her head and leaving a lick on her neck before biting it once more. Her back arched as she let out a strangled sound before burying her face in the covers again. His thrusts only became more aggressive after that. Her walls clenching around his as he hit all different parts of her insides. His teeth stayed against her skin as his hips slapped into hers his movements rough as his breathing was rugged. She let out a loud low muffled moan her walls clenching around him as she shivered hitting her climax her eyes watering at the feeling of him inside of her. He continued his thrusts his movements staggering slightly as he shuddered as muffled growl like moan reverberating against her skin as he came. His movements stopped as leant against her his body weight enveloping her slightly his ragged breathing against her neck his teeth still pressed into her skin his length still inside of her warm wet walls his tail flicking.

“L-Leona?” She asked trying to turn to look at him the best she could but she could only see his hair. His piercing green gaze unmoving as he stared at nothing in particular. She reached up to try to shake his shoulder but all she could reach was his ear as her fingertips brushing against. “Leona!” She said slightly louder once more trying to get his attention. His eyes shifted around before he realised what he was doing and pulled away from her his eyes landing on the bite mark noticing that it wasn’t bleeding. He gave it a lick before pulling away removing himself from her completely. “Sorry.” He said in his gruff voice as he fixed himself discarding the used condom in the bin. “Get up.” He said she nodded and slowly got up staggering slightly. He pulled her to him before pulling the bed covers down and helping her into the bed before following her pulling them over the two of them. He lets out a huff and wrapped his arms around her and sniffing her content that she smells like him. He relaxes before falling asleep. She sighs but cuddles up next to him knowing that there’s not way she would be able to leave.

~~~

Jesus Christ what the hell did I just write… anyway hope you enjoyed this garbage and requests are always open. Next up is Ruggie hopefully it won’t take me as long to write it but who knows.

[fandomfix13]

Get Him Back - Rafe Cameron 18+

* HI ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE WRITTEN ANYTHING BUT IM HERE NOW

* TBH THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT SO BARE WITH ME

* This is so super long and also completely filthy at parts SO MDNI and pls read warnings

* little bit of fluff? Def some pretty smutty smut. This did not start out as smut but here we are

* WRITTEN IN Y/N’s POV, lots of dialogue

*anything in italics is your inner monologue

Word count: 4K

WARNINGS: MDNI!, mentions of cheating (not rafe), toxic ex,  oral (giving and receiving), fingering, rough-ish??, p in v sex, hair pulling, light choking??, not rated e for everyone

The rain is pouring down in sheets. Falling harder than it has in a while. My head is pounding from holding back tears, that I might as well let out. I never thought that I would be in this situation. Forced out of my boyfriend's car after a fight at nearly one in the morning, with a dead phone, left to walk home alone in the pouring rain. How cliche. Not to mention the fact that I’m just over three miles away from home. What a dick. Some “man” he is to leave me like that. For all he cares, I could be kidnapped out here. However, it's highly unlikely being that I’m wandering in one of (if not the nicest) neighborhoods in this entire state. Constantly guarded by a neighborhood watch, with gated community after gated community.

 I can see the the sharp rain plummeting down in the glow of the street lights. Unlucky for me, the wind has picked up too making this walk even more miserable. At this point, I have two options; 1. I could continue to walk home in this miserable weather OR 2. I could lose all dignity and show up to Sarah’s house after not talking to her in months. Seeing as this storm is showing absolutely no sign of stopping, its looking like the second option is better. As I turn the corner, I approach the Seabrook Gated Community. A little ways down is the fence that Sarah and I used to hop all the time when we would sneak out. That’s my in. It’s an old rusty fence that is hidden behind some overgrown hedges behind some wildly overpriced house that rarely ever has anyone living in it.         

After nearly slipping off of the slippery fence, I make my way down the street to Tanny Hill. Mentally preparing myself for the absolute humiliation that will occur if Sarah opens the front door. We had our falling out about 3 months ago and we haven't spoken since. We have tried our best to avoid each other at all costs. At least I’ve tried avoiding her, that is, until this very moment. 

As I approach the front lawn, I genuinely consider turning around and quite literally braving the storm and walking home. As it is, I’m already soaked from head to toe and probably on the verge of pneumonia. However, I shake off my thoughts and walk towards the front door. I knock three times in hope that someone will hear. I don’t ring the doorbell out of fear of waking up the entire Cameron household which is the last thing I need to do. After a few seconds, nobody answers. This house is huge maybe they are coming. I convince myself that nobody is answering the door so I turn accepting my fate and I walk away. Suddenly, I hear the front door unlock and my breath gets caught in my throat when I hear his voice. 

“Y/N? Is that you?” Fuck. Me.

“Hey Rafe.” I choke out. God I probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” he looks at his phone “at 1:26 in the morning.”

“Um. Is Sarah home?” I spit out, trying to avoid conversation.

“She’s not…but I am.” He leans against the door frame looking me up and down in a ‘you good?’ way. “You also didn’t answer my question.” He adds.

“I uh…I didn’t know where else to go.” I say quietly. I was right. This is in fact humiliating. He just stands there and stares at me. Clearly unamused at the fact that I still haven't answered his question as to why I am standing on his front porch looking like a wet dog. I would stare too. “Are you gonna let me inside? Or are you just gonna keep staring at me in silence.” I add.

“That depends.” He says lookin back into the house then back at me. “Are you gonna tell me why you’re here? Or are you just gonna avoid the question.” Touche. We stand here in silence for a moment as he watches me get pelted in the face by the rain and I chatter my teeth. He finally pushes the door open further and gestures for me to come inside. Thank go Sarah isn’t home because I would be shitting myself out of embarrassment right now. I walk in and Rafe opens a hallway in the closet as he reaches in and grabs a towel that he throws at me. “If You get anything wet, Rose will lose her shit.” 

“How kind.” I say with strong notes of sarcasm.

“Hey I didn’t have to let you in. I could've just left you outside on your own.” he’s right.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first guy to leave me outside tonight, so I probably would’ve been fine” I blurt out without thinking. What happened to me tonight is none of his business. Plus I’m sure he will hear about it anyway. However, he did let me inside which he did not have to do, so I could at least pretend to be grateful. 

“Damn. That's rough. Sorry about that.” he almost sounded embarrassed.

“No, it's fine. Thanks for the towel.” he nods and sits down at the kitchen counter. We stand in silence for a bit as I ring my hair out into the sink. This couldn’t be more awkward. Here I am standing in my ex best friend’s house with her older brother, who was in fact my first kiss in a game of truth or dare years ago, and who happens to be the best friend of my boyfriend who just dumped me on the side of the road in the middle of the night. This is just grand. “Do you have a phone charger? My phone is completely dead.” 

“Uh yeah its upstairs. Do you wanna-” he cut himself off before speaking again. “Do you just wanna come up with me so you can change?” Right. So. Apparently this absolutely CAN  feel more awkward. Whatever. I need to charge my phone and honestly a change of clothes sounds devine. I silently follow Rafe up the stairs and into his room. “If you want you can take a shower to warm up. Your teeth haven’t stopped chattering since you got here.” he’s being frighteningly nice. 

“Um sure.” I say hesitantly as I am incredibly confused by his nice attitude. I plug in my phone and Rafe hands me one of his old t-shirts and a pair of booty shorts that were surely left here by some random girl, but honestly I don’t care. I have to get out of these clothes. “Thanks.” I say taking the clothes and entering his bathroom, closing and locking the door quickly behind me. Literally what the fuck. There is no way this is really happening. 

I take my time in the shower as I let the steaming hot water warm me up for a while. When I’m done, I put on the clothes that Rafe gave me, and open the bathroom door seeing him sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey Topper called you like five times when you were in the shower.” He says unfazed. My attitude shifts almost immediately. 

“You didn’t answer it did you?” I blurt out. Nice job y/n! That wasn’t suspicious at all!

“No…why would I?” he laughs clearly confused as I let out a sigh  of relief. Once again. Awkward silence. I take a seat on the edge of the bed going through my phone. “Are you gonna call him back?” he asks. Before I could answer him, his phone starts to ring. Toppers name is displayed on the screen. Rafe looks at his phone, then back to me, then back to his phone. 

“I am NOT here. Answer it. Put it on speaker.” I say frantically. Now he's intrigued.

“Hey Top!” Rafe answers. “Rafe! I fucked up man. I fucked up BAD! I’m coming over. I need a drink asap.” I am immediately shaking my head and mouthing ‘no’. “Top I can’t tonight man. My dad is on my ass and if Rose finds out I have someone over, I’m dead bro.” Is he seriously helping me right now? 

Topper scoffs on the other line. “Since when have you given a shit about what Rose thinks? I’m already on my way!” 

“Then turn around and go home man. I can’t tonight.”

“What is up with you dude? You never turn down a drink” its silent for a minute “Oh shit do you have a chick over right now?” Im disgusted at the change in tone in Top’s voice when he  brings up Rafe having a girl over.

“Yeah bro I do. And she’s alone right now in my bed so I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow.” Rafe responds, very quick to go along with Topper’s question.

“That’s my man!” Topper laughs “is she hot? She better be hot!”

Even Rafe rolls his eyes at Topper’s comment. “Yeah she’s hot. Okay gotta go man.” Rafe responds as he hangs up the phone. Is that true, does he think I’m hot? I don’t care. Do I?

I let out a huge sigh of relief that we dodged the bullet of Top showing up here. 

“So. Are you gonna tell me why I just had to lie to my best friend?”

I shift nervously. “Well technically you didn’t lie. There is a ‘chick’ here and she is sitting on your bed.” I try to make a joke avoiding this conversation at all costs. 

“Y/n.” He says, raising his eyebrows. He clearly wants an answer. 

“I broke up with Top and he didn’t take it well.” I say on an exhale. He doesn’t say anything because he’s not stupid. He has probably figured out that much already. I let out a heavy sigh. “He kicked me out of his car in the middle of the road three miles away from my house in the fucking rain because I accused him of cheating on me. He told me that I had no idea what I was talking about. He said I was crazy, and that I was making shit up. But I’m not. I know for a fact that I’m not. It’s not the first time either. He’s done it before, which I’m sure you already know since you’re his best friend and he probably tells you everything.” I make that realization as I’m rambling my story out to him. Rafe is probably well aware of Topper’s lack of loyalty. 

“I uh. I knew about it the first time.” He admits. His honestly with the situation makes me laugh a little as I roll my eyes.

“Of course you did. Being that it was with your sister. I’d be shocked if you didn’t know.” The look on Rafe’s face instantly changes. It’s almost like he’s holding something back. “Unless…Sarah wasn’t the first girl was she. There was someone else.” Tears that I have been pushing back for weeks start to well in my eyes. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m furious. Even Rafe doesn’t know what to say. Without thinking, I grab my wet clothes and my barely charged phone, and head towards his bedroom door. “I should go. Thanks for the shower and-” 

“Y/n don’t be ridiculous” he says quickly following me. “You can’t leave right now that storm is getting worse” He puts his hand on the door, shutting it. 

I turn and he is standing close enough to me to create an odd sort of tension. 

“Why don’t you get him back?” Rafe suggests as I roll my eyes.

“I don’t want to get back with him Rafe I’m so ov-” he cuts me off.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I mean get him back. As in revenge.” he says as he steps closer to me. Jesus Christ I’m an absolute idiot.

“Revenge��right.” I laugh awkwardly. He continues to inch closer, creating an even bigger amount of tension. Not that tension is an unfamiliar thing with Rafe and I. There has always been a weird tension between us. Ya know…the whole best friends brother thing. I’ve known Rafe for almost 10 years. Something about his cocky attitude has always been attractive to me. Call it toxic. I don’t care. It’s just the truth. Rafe and I are standing right infront of each other. He is towering over me as my back is still to the door. 

“You know…They say that one of the best ways to get over a guy is to get under another.” He almost whispers while moving my hair out of my face. I can’t help but blush. The thought of getting back at Topper crossed my mind the second he cheated on me. The thought of getting back at him by hooking up with his best friend? That’s even better. Rafe leans down and starts to kiss my neck. “Rafe we probably shouldn’t do this” I whisper clearly enjoying it.

“Of course we shouldn’t. But I do shit that I shouldn’t do all the time.” He stops kissing my neck to look me in the face.

“Me too” I nod letting out a breath as I crash my lips onto his. The kiss is instantly filled with an insane amount of intensity. Rafe backs me up against the wall as he deepens the kiss. He moves from my mouth to my neck, leaving hickeys all over. He is making sure that I can’t hide what we are doing. And I’m totally here for it. His hands move from my hair, to my hips, to underneath the hem of my shirt. Well. Technically his shirt. I’m braless since my bra got soaked in that rain earlier. He quickly realizes this as his hand grazes over my tits. He starts to grip them while kissing me, making me moan softly until he stops for a second. 

“As hot as you look in my shirt…it’s coming off” he nearly growls. I lift my arms as he lifts the shirt over my head and throws it across the room. I reach for his shirt to take it off. Once he takes it off his mouth is back on mine. Our foreheads are pressed together as our bare chests are rising and falling against each other. He hoists me up, grabbing my ass as I throw my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. We don’t last long against the wall before we move to the bed.

He lays me down on the edge of the bed as he hovers over me kissing me yet again. Each kiss gets more aggressive. We bite each other's lips between kisses. He moves his mouth from my lips to my neck leaving more marks. Slowly, he makes his way to my chests. The marks he makes get darker and darker. He puts his mouth over my nipple, making me moan as he slightly bites down. He quickly moves his hand up to cover my mouth.

“Shhh. Baby we gotta stay quiet.” He says as he moves from one nipple to the other. I moan into his hand as he stifles the sound that comes out. His hand moves from my mouth to my throat as he wraps his hand around it lightly. His lips meet mine again. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” holy shit. I moan into our kiss as his hand is on my throat. His hand travels down my body until its hovering over my shorts. He’s moving his hand from one thigh to the other. Barely grazing the spot where I need him the most. I breathe into our kiss as his hand stops at the waistband of my shorts. He’s such a fucking tease. He hovers his hand there for a minute sensing that I want more. 

“Oh my God Rafe” I moan out of anticipation.

“You want more baby?” he smirks against my lips.

“You know I do” Smartass.

“Say less” he moves from his position above me, to kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed. He hooks his fingers around the waistband of my shorts, pulling them down, revealing my bare pussy. He pulls me closer to the edge of the bed and spreads my legs in one swift motion, causing my breath to hitch. He leans down and attaches his mouth to my clit. This of course causes another accidental moan to slip from my mouth. I immediately throw my own hands over my mouth to quiet the noise. His tongue is swirling circles over my clit as he inserts two fingers without warning. As hard as I am trying to stifle my sounds, nothing could stop the groan that I let out at this moment. He moves his fingers at a faster pace that matches what his tongue is doing. 

“Holy Shit Rafe.” I whine.

“You like that?” he smirks up at me. I nod and roll my eyes to the back of my head before shutting them tightly. But suddenly Rafe stops. “Open your eyes y/n. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to see who is making you feel this good.” I do as he says and open my eyes as I prop myself up on my elbows to get a better view. “Atta girl” He smirks before burying his face into me yet again. He adds a third finger as I throw my head back while remaining eye contact. He curls his fingers as he eats me out and I want to scream at the pressure building up inside of me. I reach forward and tangle my fingers through his hair as he grins up towards me. 

“Rafe! Oh my God” I let out a string of other soft noises and words.

“Go ahead baby. Cum for me,” I look Rafe in the eyes as I jerk my hips and arch my back, completely unraveling in front of him. As he removes his fingers from inside of me, he brings them up to my mouth. “I want you to see how good you taste.” he says as I take his fingers into my mouth until they are clean. He removes his fingers from my mouth and laces his hands through my hair as he devours me with a kiss. 

“That was incredible.” I breathe heavily.

“Oh we aren’t done yet princess.” the sound of him calling me princess was enough to nearly send me over the edge again. 

“I’d hope not” I tangle my tongue with his as he deepens the kiss by pulling my hair back. I reach for his pants and I undo his belt. 

“Eager are we?” he scoffs, pulling away for a moment. He removes his belt and  his pants. Leaving his boxers for me to remove. I gesture for him to sit on the edge of the bed where I just was. When he sits, I climb onto his lap, straddling him over his boxers. I can tease too. I lean in kissing him as I slowly start to rock back and forth on his lap. I can feel him getting harder by the second. To be honest this is doing just as much for me as it is for him. I start to kiss his neck, leaving marks similar to the ones he left on me. I start to rock faster back and forth until he is letting out moans the way I was. I cover his mouth.

“I thought we had to stay quiet.” I give him a sly smile before kneeling on the floor and removing his boxers. I come face to face with his cock as I run my tongue up the side, looking up at him while I do it. I move my tongue to the other side slowly, taking my sweet time. 

“Fuck y/n” Rafe groans as he places his hand in my hair. 

I wrap my mouth around the head of his cock and start to suck slowly, using my hands to work the rest that I can’t fit in my mouth. I bob my head up and down while I look up at him, my eyes are starting to water. He grabs my head and slightly pushes me down further, and I can feel his tip hit my throat. When it does Rafe lets out a deep moan with a mumbled string of “oh fucks”. After a few minutes, I can sense that he is going to cum. I don’t bother asking where he wants to finish before he finishes in my mouth. I swallow and look up at him with a smile.

“Holy shit. You really know what you’re doing.” He lets out a heavy content sigh. “We still aren't done yet. I need to be inside you.” He says laying me back down on the bed. I still cannot believe that this is happening. 

Rafe wastes no time climbing on top of me leaving sloppy kisses up my chest and meeting my mouth with his. “You sure about this?” He looks down at me.

“Never been more sure about anything.” I nod. 

“Good” He says as he grabs a condom from his nightstand and puts it on. Seconds later, he is lining himself up at my entrance. His tongue plunges into my mouth as he enters inside of me. His cock stretched my pussy perfectly. He moves with smooth motions leaving us both moaning into each other's mouths as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He brings his hand to my throat once again,barely applying pressure, making me let out a moan that was too loud to be stifled. He doesn’t seem to care. 

“You like when my hands are around your neck?” He whispers in my ear.

“Yes! Oh my god yes” I am starting to get louder. He moves his hand from my throat to my mouth to keep me quiet again. I moan into his hand as his thrusts hit the perfect spot inside of me. He can tell that he has hit the spot when my hips start to buck in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. I am almost screaming into his hand. As he leans down to kiss me again. 

“You gonna cum with me?” he asks, pressing his forehead against mine. I nod unable to speak, to stop myself from screaming. “Words y/n. Use your words” 

“Fuck yes. I’m gonna cum!” I whine out. He thrusts in and out a few more times, hitting the spot perfectly making me squirm underneath him. With one final thrust, I arch my back as I scratch my nails down his, definitely leaving scratch marks. We cum simultaneously as we let out deep and hungry moans into each other's mouths. He just gave me the best orgasm I have ever had. He pulled out and laid next to me.

“Holy shit. I’ve waited so long to do that.” he says looking at me out of breath.

“Me too. I always had a crush on you ya know.” I say looking at him equally as out of breath.

“Yeah I know.” He smiles and lets out a soft chuckle.

“Took you long enough to do something about it.” I laugh back.

“Thank God I did. And I plan on doing it again. Just so you know.” I winked at me 

“I’d hope so.” I smile, laying there next to him. He was right. That was the best way to get over someone. 

** hi! I really hope you liked this. If you did and want to see more let me know what you want to see! I had fun writing this and in my many many years of writing fanfics this is somehow my first time writing smut so I hope it was okay lol ❤️

[chishiyaisasnack]

Shower time

Here’s a fic that I’ve been working on for a good while now and I’m finally content with posting it. It’s sfw even though it’s a shower scene. Mostly fluff (?) and a tiiiiiny but of angst.

Disclaimer! This story is based in the Borderlands and it mentions blood, wounds and trauma from it. It’s not about how they got injured, but more so very mildly describing that they are injured. I consider it sfw but it does contain nudity since they’re taking a shower, but I’m not describing bodyparts or anything. Also, small references to sex just for humor, but there is no smut whatsoever.

Oh, and the reader doesn’t know that Chishiya is a doctor.

I’ve written and am posting on mobile so I’m sorry for any formatting issues.

”I’m going to take a shower.”

With strong steps - actually more like a wobble - you walked into your room at The Beach, Chishiya following close behind you, watching your every movement just in case you would trip over your own feet, like you already had done about 30 times since you left the game area. It had been a rough one and it had left you wounded, exhausted and a bit lethargic. Not to mention the strain it had taken on your mental state, like the games always did, but you had turned off your feelings for now and had only one goal in mind: a long, warm shower to wash off all the remnants of the game.

”No you aren’t, it can wait until tomorrow.” Chishiya sounded like he always did, bored and condescending, but you knew that there was some worry in there somewhere. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered to follow you all the way back to your room, offering to catch you when you’d eventually fall.

”I feel gross. I’m covered in … stuff.” Blood. You were covered in blood. You raised your arms to make your point clearer, in case he missed what an absolute mess you were right now.

”Fine. Come on then.” Chishiya sighed, walked around you, and went towards the bathroom while you stood confused, watching him open the door and look back at you before stepping inside.

”Wait, what?” you asked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. Why was he joining you?

With slow steps you followed him, wondering if he got the wrong idea. He was gorgeous, but sex was the last thing on your mind, especially shower sex. Didn’t he say that you were in no condition to even take a shower to begin with? You stopped in the doorway and waited for a response.

”You most likely have a concussion, you’re wounded and you’re exhausted. You’re going to collapse by yourself.” He turned on the shower and let the stream of water fall, waiting for it to turn hot.

”Okay, okay, doctor.” The smirk you got back confused you even more. Did he have a thing for being called ’doctor’? It wouldn’t suprise you, he was a mystery. But even him would surely have preferrences. Wait, why were you thinking about sex again?

You shook your head as you walked inside the bathroom, limping past Chishiya as he was making his way out again. Or so you thought. In the corner of your eye you saw him stretch, but it wasn’t until you turned around that you saw what he really was doing.

”Uhh, why are you taking your clothes off?” Your eyes widened as his hoodie hit the floor. He had no shame, appearantly getting naked with you without warning was completely normal in his world.

”I’m getting ready to help you when you realise that I was right. Don’t worry, I won’t join you until you ask me to. Which will be soon, so I’m preparing for that.”

You didn’t know if you should feel thankful or offended by what he said.

Chishiya however, smirked again, cocking an eyebrow at your dumbfounded look. He was enjoying this. While still looking at you he started to pull down his shorts. Your eyes were fixed on the pile of clothes he had created on the floor, which thankfully wasn’t added with more pieces since he decided to keep at least his boxers on. The daring look he had on his face when you turned your eyes back up was annoying. Did he like that you were looking at him? Not that you were looking at him like that anyway. You just wanted to take a shower. Or so you told yourself.

With his shirt and pants off he sat down on the toilet seat, turning around so that he had his back against you and the glass wall of the shower.

”Go ahead” he said, a hint of amusement hiding in his voice. ”I won’t look.”

”You better not” you huffed back at him, watching him carefully while you started to remove your own clothes, ripped apart and stained with blood. Instead of putting them in a pile you threw them straight into the trashcan. Once removed, you looked into the mirror over the sink and you almost gasped at how wounded you actually were. Cuts and bruises covered your arms, legs and back. Patches of your skin were stained red, even your face still had traces of blood left on it. You looked terrible.

Sighing, you stopped studiyng yourself and looked over your shoulder. Chishiya was still sitting with his back against you, shoulders rising and falling slow with every breath, the muscles of his back tensing when he moved. He looked soft. You wondered what he would look like wet.

No! This was not the right time to daydream about Chishiya and his pretty back, his blonde hair that fell in waves over his shoulders, those shoulders that probably would feel great to hold on to while your lips were… Oh, for fucks sake, just get in the shower y/n.

After disrupting yourself from your thoughts you made your way into the shower, closing your eyes as the water started cascading down your body. The glass wall seperating the shower and the rest of the room was conveniently half covered with frosted glass so that it covered most of your body, from your shoulders down to your knees, making you a bit less embarrassed over being naked in the same room as him. Being naked in front of someone when it wasn’t sexual wasn’t your idea of calming, and even though he had no shame, you still had. This was too intimate, too casual. But if it was what it took to take a shower then you’d do it. Even though you didn’t like to admit it you did trust Chishiya to treat you with decency and respect. He might be considered one of the people you shouldn’t trust in the borderlands, a bad person perhaps, but not bad enough to overstep someones boundaries like this.

”Let me know when you need me.” Chishiyas voice rang somewhere in the distance. Not even a ’if you need me’. He was too confident and it just made you even more stubborn. You were definitely able to take a shower by yourself, you were damned to not let him win this one, you told yourself while reaching for the soap. With unsteady hands (no, they absolutely weren’t unsteady because you were tired) you started to scrub the dirt off yourself, one part at a time. You hissed whenever you discovered a new wound you weren’t aware of and eventually the pain from it made you a bit dizzy. No, you could do this.

You clenched your jaw as you continued, slowly moving from head to toe, covering yourself with suds. Finally, everything you could see and feel was gone, so you let the stream of water fall over you once again, closing your eyes, enjoying the warmth that it gave. You felt your muscles relax, your breathing slowing down, your eyelids getting heavier…

”Chishiya…” you mumbled weakly, mad that he was right, again.

”I’m here.” A voice right behind you made you jump. You turned around and swung your fist towards him, ready to punch him out of pure panic, but he caught it before it landed on him. The borderlands had really done a number on you, you were constantly prepared for survival and appearantly even Chishiya was a victim of your anxiety. ”Calm down, it’s just me.”

”How long have you been standing there?!” You wobbled to the side as you tried to fight your bodys urge to fall onto the ground from the sudden movements. Chishiya steadied you by holding your upper arms, and helped you turn back around so that your back was facing him again.

”You moved slower and slower so I was ready when you called for me. I haven’t been standing here ogling.”

”So you have been watching me?” You didn’t even think about the fact that you probably flashed him completely just now. Well, if he saw something he didn’t care about it, which was comforting in this situation.

”Of course. I couldn’t see anything other than your head anyway. It wasn’t quite the show you think it was.” Chishiyas voice was dripping with amusement.

Once again, you didn’t know if you should be thankful or offended.

”Give me the schampoo bottle.” Chishiya asked, or rather commanded, reaching his arm out next to you so you could hand him the bottle. Once he got it you could hear him shake it before opening it and pouring out some of the liquid in his hand, followed by a low thump as he put it on the floor behind you.

Slender fingers moved over your hair, softly massaging it with his fingertips, giving you full body shivers from the way his fingers drew circles between the strands. It felt nice. Safe. You couldn’t help but to close your eyes again and just relish in the warmth radiating from his hands. He was so careful with how he touched you, slow and gentle while he worked his way through all of your hair.

A part of you wished that he would step closer so that you could feel the warmth from his body wrap around you, so that you could lean back and relax in his arms, just enjoying how your body would feel so at ease while being comforted, but you had no idea how to ask him for that without it sounding sexual.

”Shower head, please.”

You did as he asked and handed him the shower head, turning up the water pressure while doing so to make it easier for him to rinse.

”Close your eyes and bend your head backwards. Tell me if you feel dizzy.” Chishiya didn’t sound so stern this time. His words were soft and comforting, asking you to trust him. So you did.

He rinsed your hair in silence. One hand holding the shower head while the other one kept massaging your scalp, making sure to rinse out the schampoo properly. Even though you desperately tried to relax and just enjoy the feeling of being taken care of, you couldn’t stop your emotions from seeping back into your mind. Pictures of the game were flashing before your eyes. People screaming. Fighting. Lasers going off.

”Chishiya…” you whispered, no longer able to stop thinking about what had happend earlier.

”Mhmm..?”

”There was a child there tonight.”

He didn’t answer but you could feel the movements in his hands stiffen as he continued to rinse your scalp free from schampoo.

”I didn’t know that there were children here” you continued, trying to get the thoughts out of your head so you wouldn’t be tormented by them during the night. ”I thought maybe we were sent here to repent or something like that, that we were getting what we deserve. But why would a child deserve this? Even if we are all randomly sent here, without any reason behind why it’s us in particular, why would they choose a child?”

”…I don’t know.” He sounded emtpy when he answered, not that you were expecting his words to be comforting. They rarely were. There was a long pause before he spoke again. ”Did the child make it?”

”Yeah…” A shiver ran trough your body when Chishiya stopped rinsing your hair, already missing the heat from the water. Another thump came from the floor when he put the shower head down. ”Some of us worked together and protected him as much as we could.”

”Do you have conditioner?” he interrupted, sticking his hand out next to you so that you could hand it to him. You placed the bottle in his hand and watched him retrieve it. A click of the bottle cap was followed by another thump when he put it down on the ground. You wondered how many times he must’ve stared at your ass by now.

”Anyway,” you continued, shaking the image of him smirking at your butt away. ”That’s why I look like this. I took the hits for him.”

”That sounds like you.”

You hummed at his words. It was reassuring that you were considered to be a nice person, even in this hellscape.

Gentle fingers threaded through your hair again and you leaned into the touch. It went by faster this time since he didn’t need to scrub, although you wished he would keep doing this for hours. Every time he let go of you - this time to pick up the shower head again - the ache in your body took over, making you tremble ever so slightly even though the steam from the hot water was surrounding you. You were relieved when you felt the water against your back, contently closing your eyes and bending your head back into Chishiyas palm.

”I envy you sometimes.” Chishiya mumbled, so quiet that the sound of the water almost drowned it out.

”You do?”

”I wouldn’t have helped someone else if it meant that I would have to work for it, let alone get hurt from it.” Chishiya paused briefly, like he was choosing his words carefully. ”Especially not a stranger. You didn’t think twice about doing so.”

”I don’t believe that.” You cut him off before he got the chance to put himself down even more. ”You’re better than you think, Chishiya. Just look at what you’re doing for me right now.”

”I’m washing your hair, I’m not saving you from dying.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

”You don’t have to save me from death to help me. This is helping me. Besides, from the sound of your attempts to stop me from showering, I could die in here if you didn’t help me.”

”Maybe I just wanted to see you naked” Chishiya joked with such a monotone voice that anyone else would think he was serious, but you knew better. Well, if he was serious he had gotten his wish - paired with a fist coming at his face.

”Right” you snorted, too tired to laugh. A blush still crept over your cheeks, imagining his eyes on you in that way. ”Keep telling yourself that if that makes you feel better.”

”There” Chishiya ignored your answer and handed you the shower head. Cold air rushed to your skin as the water left it, leaving you almost begging for him to continue. Would it be so bad if you did?

”You can turn off the water now. I’ll get you some towels. Stay there.”

With a pout you put the shower head back into it’s place and turned off the water. Behind you, you could hear how Chishiya was gathering towels from a drawer, his footsteps making their way back over the tiled floor that would be cold and uninviting for your own feet in a second.

”Lift your arms a little.” You did as he asked and lift your arms halfway up, stopping waist high, only to see Chishiyas arms poking out from under them, holding up a towel that you thankfully grabbed a hold on and quickly wrapped around yourself to try to regain some of the warmth that the shower had given you.

”You’re safe to turn around now.”

”Thank you” you quitly replied as you gently spun around, just to be met by a still undressed Chishiya with his own towel hanging around his neck and a soft expression on his face. If you didn’t know better you would think that he was worried about you.

A smaller towel was in one of his hands - which soon landed on your head, covering your face at the same time. Your sour expression that was revealed as you peeled it off made him grin.

”Do you want help to dry it?” He asked, eyes shiny from amusement, and watched as you stubbornly started to squeeze the ends of your hair, too tired to lift your arms up and dry it completely.

”No, I’ll just put the towel over the pillow when I sleep. It’s fine” you replied, following his example and put your own towel over your shoulders. The chill in the air was starting to really get to you, and you decided that you couldn’t get to the bed fast enough. Just thinking about laying down, surrounded by warm covers, maybe even a pair of socks on your feet at first, burying your head on the pillow…

”The wounds on your back looked fine but I still need to cover some of them with bandaids. I need to examine your front too. Let me know when you’ve covered up so that I can check your arms, legs and stomach.”

Ugh, why did he have to interupt your dream about your bed with another naked request? You just wanted to sleep.

”I’m sure I’ll be fine Chishiya” you groaned back at him, slowly (and unsteadily) making your way past him and towards the bed. You could see the light at the end of the tunnel, just a few more steps and you’d reach the doorhandle, that doorhandle that would open the gate and lead you straight towards the nice, warm, fluffy….

You groaned even louder when you felt a hand grip your arm, stopping your weak attempt to get out of the bathroom and keeping you still while Chishiya made his way around you so that he was facing you again. That calm face was back and you didn’t like it.

”Please, Chishiya, just let me sleep” you pleaded but to no avail.

”Come here.” You had no choice but to move after him, not being strong enough to even attempt to break loose from his grip on your arm, that was keeping you somewhat steady as you plopped one foot in front of the other until you reached the end of the bathroom. Then - lo and behold - Chishiya opened the door and led you out into the hotel room, making your way straight towards the bed. Right as he reached the foot of the bed he stopped and slowly turned the two of you around in a circle so that your back was now facing the bed, and then pushed you back so that you fell down on the soft duvet cover with a yelp. It felt like heaven to finally lay down, like a cloud was enveloping you and taking you with it to the land of dreams.

”Where are your underwear?” Chishiya once again interrupted your inner monolouge.

”Why? Wanna see them so badly even though you’ve already seen me naked?” You rolled your eyes and leaned your head to the side so that you could watch him dig around in a dresser until he grabbed the first, best pair of panties he could find and threw them at you.

”Put them on please, unless you want me to examine you naked. I’m fine with either way.”

You just huffed at him, secretly liking the playful look he was giving you. When he turned his back to you, you managed to shuffle around and get your panties on, just to let your legs fall back down onto the bed with a loud thump. God, you were exhausted.

”I’m done, doctor.” Once again, he reacted with a grin and you were now positive that he had some wierd doctor patient kink and that you were so going to make him confess that. A mission for another day.

Chishiya sat down next to your legs and reached over them to pick up a first aid kit you didn’t even know was laying next to you. Was he a wizard too?

You kept still, listening to the opening of packets, a liquid poured onto what you imagined was a cotton ball, and then your own hiss as he touched the first wound on your leg. It wasn’t the liquid that hurt, it was just the tender touch from the gauze he dabbed against your skin that hurt enough to make you wince. He must have started on a bad one.

”Try to keep still” he murmured gently, sounding like he was completely occupied with his task of tormenting you just a bit more before letting you sleep.

You stayed as still as you could, trying to concentrate on his hands and fingers working their way over your legs, dabbing it with the liquid, letting it dry, then putting a compress and some adhesive tape over it like a home made band aid. His touch was so gentle that it was barely there.

Your eyelids turned heavier with every touch of his fingertips and even though your wounds were stinging, his warm skin eased the pain afterwards and comforted you without knowing so. Before falling asleep you murmured a ”thank you.”

The last thing you remembered was the feeling of being enveloped in something warm, probably the cover that wasn’t underneath you and a soft whisper.

”You’re welcome.”

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 1

pairing: siren! natasha x reader

summary: working on a boat sounds like a fun, but what if there is a cold weather?

word count: 3.6k

warnings: heavy manipulation!!!, mind control, toxic dynamic, humping a tail, dirty talk, just smut!, badly written description of what sailors do

an: so the time is here!!!! I’m exited and also anxious, aghh. I’d appreciate any of your feedback and don’t be scared to send me some thoughts! If there are any typos, i sincerely apologize, just let me know and I’ll fix it!

an2: there is a part that was inspired by hp and goblet of fire, i’ve changed most of it, but left some parts, since natasha is siren. felt like it was fitting. and it’s exactly how I imagine natasha’s style of singing.

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this spooky time and be safe!

Working on a coast was an incredible experience and for such a long time you were happy to have the oppurtunity to see new things, but most imporantily feel new things.

This spontanious work trip helped you with your mental health more than your therapist in years. You didn´t even mind working alone somedays, since your coworkers had some days shift off. You enjoyed those quiet days, where you didn´t even overthink, you just let your thoughts peacefully be and surprisingly they did the same thing to you.

Seeing things, the old things but with a different font was something you never get tired of. Everything was bigger and prettier. Colorfull sunrises and sunsets, bigger and shiny stars. But when the warm and fuzzy wind was changed by heavy rains and scary thunderstorms, you were really changing your opinion and wishing you were back in your comfy king sized bed, watching another stupid show on Netflix. Not everything was so colorful all the time.

Especially when the weather got cold and nothing was so warm and fuzzy as in the summer. When the first storm came you thought that you can hadle it, alone. You did, but barerly.

But from todays morning, you knew something big is coming and nothing could prepare you for that. You woke up and checked your phone, like you did every signle day and noticed you have one unread message, saying that your coworker, Tobias, can´t make it, because he got sea sick, from all the sailing he did this week. Which is little weird since you´re positive he´s been sailing the day he was born. But even the best of us can get sick sometimes. So youre all alone. You let out a big sigh. You werent mad, no. You were just little scared of the storm that might and most probably will come today.

When you finally got up and looked from the window you could feel that the wind was freezingly cold. Goosebumps begin to form on your arms and neck. The cold feeling seeps through your skin deeper, like a stealthy intruder, sending shivers down your spine. It's an icy touch that grips your body, making your muscles tense.

It´s gonna be a long day.

As always you packed your stuff, fuzzy socks, warm coat, another shirt just in case youll get wet. Lastly you took some snacks and a big amout of soup, hoping your heater wont let you down. And last but not least a lots of tea. As your boss always says "Tea and rum is better than a warm coat." Well you dont have the rum, but the tea will do, at least that´s what youre saying to yourself.

When you got to work, you checked all the papers from yesterday, made sure to know what your tasks will be today. And of course you had to check if the boat is in a good shape to sail the next day. It´s a lot of work, but at least you have a job to do. Not like a week ago, where you just sat and watch as the waves hit the rocks for 12 hours. You noticed that even waves have a simple patterns, its was so hypnotic to watch it hit the big rocks again and again and again.

You slowly checked all the papers to not miss anything important and undeerscore everything that you need to do today. You checked your watch and made a mental note to put the kettle on soon.

Youre working here for about a 5 months now and you still havent figured out your routine. Even though most of the times youre still doing the same job all over again, checking something, writing what needs to be fixed, checking the load, or just watching over the boat, you still do everything at the same time. So sometimes (read it as most of the times) you just forget to do the simple things as taking care of your basic needs. When you and Tobias have shift together, you two kinda take care of eachtoher, but when he´s not there it´s just so easy to forget about it.

But today you did quite good job, after checking the lower deck you came back up to unlock the kitchen and put the kettle on. When youre water was getting ready for your favorite and only tea you had here, you wrote some documentary about the first ship load you had to check. Everything was correct and you were happy that you didn´t have to unpack it and count it manually. Your first break of the day fly past very quickly as you finished your tea, that didnt make you feel warm at all. You put the cup in the sink and went on another round of checking the boat lower deck.

As you stood up something red caught your eye in the distance, you took a few steps closer to the window, hoping you would see better at what it is. It was weird seeing something so bright in the distance, where only the gray waves were moving. But to your disappointment, you didnt got the answer, it was probably some coral from the shore. You shake your head slightly and moved to another task.

When you came up you noticed that it was already dark outside, shockingly it was the same tempetrure as throghtout the day. Which was a positive thing.

How long have I been downstairs? What time is it? I didn´t have lunch... again.

As many thoughts at the same time speed through your mind, you heard something under the boat. You just closed your eyes, taking few deep breaths to calm your nerves. You put down the paperwork and the pen you were holding. Making your way to the kitchen, youve notice that you didn´t even drank much water. Cursing yourself, you drink a half of the bottle right away. The fresh water finally hitting your needs. Refreshing shockwave going through your body. Every cell awaken and all of your sences light up. Already feeling better, taking a moment to make soup and overall just refresh yourself. As you´re finishing your food, you hear it again.

Bang.

This time is was way louder, so you took all of your courage to go out and look what it was. Sometimes you were tought, or maybe you just act before you think things through. You were terrified of the dark and most importantly what´s in it, but this time something made you go out. You were surprised by yourself, but you didnt question it, much.

When you got out you checked the boat, slowly analyzing if something is wrong.

Was it an animal? A fallen brench into the water?

"Hello?" You immidietly cursed yourself. "Im an idiot." You mumble as you walk around. "There is no more pathetic and stupid way to die then just say hello to the dark." You mumble under your breath.

After a while walking around the boat a big strike apeared on the sky. And after few second of a complete silence there was a big thunder coming, that made you run back inside. There it was the big storm you were so terrified of. It was way worse than the last time and you were hoping to survive it.

That´s a little bit dramatic, but your heart was pounding fast, your hands started to shake and even in this cold you very still incredibly sweaty, like if you just ran a marathon in the desert. After few hours of tinkinkng you´ll die, the storm suddently stopped, leaving you all tired and scared at the same time. Until youve heard another sound, it wasnt another bang, it was more like a humming.

Maybe someone from the sailors is here? But they are all men. Maybe someones wife? Again, your thoughts are running milions miles per hour.

The humming sounds so warm, like the old days, back in summer, where everything was colorfull, fuzzy and it felt generally so good in your ears. You stood up and without second guessing you step outside. There was complete silence, not a single person outside, The sun slowly coming out, trying to fight those stromy clouds that were showing the only evidence of heavy storm.

As soon as your hand laid back on the door handle a beautfiul voice start to sing a melodic song. You didnt understand it, it was some language you never heard, but you liked it, your brain might not understand the words, but your body understood the melody. And suddenly you didn´t felt cold, it was the other way around actually. Your cheeks were on fire, like you were running a fever, but you didn´t feel bad, no, you actually felt the best you ever did.

When you turn around you saw her. Unbeiebly beaitiful, goddess looking woman. Her hair was red, not like an apple red, more like a bright fire that is keeping you warm at the coldest nights. Each strand seemed to catch the sunlight that was finally going up, setting her aglow with a vibrant, fiery aura. Her green eyes were pierced at you, she was looking at you, waiting for your move. But you just stood there and watched her, your breathing started to speed up. You tried to remeber evertything about her, but as soon as your eyes fell lower, you noticed how light her skin looked. It reminded you of a fresh marble that was just ready to be cast in. But what caught your off guard the most, was her tail. You´ve never seen aynthing like that and it was very obvious, because youre face made it very well known. It was mixed feeling between shocked and amazed. The siren's tail was a fluid masterpiece, a shimmering blend of oceanic blues and greens. With each sinuous movement, it created a mesmerizing scene.

"Hey sailor." she smirked, her voice sound way raspier than it did when she sang.

"I- I- I´m not a sailor. This is uh not my uh- boat... I just work here." You stutter out, cursing yourself for seeing the prettiest woman your eyes have ever laid on and you ramble out this sentence.

"You just work here? Oh what a pity, I wanted to ask for some help." The red haired frown, which made you feel sad right away.

"I can help! I just... not my boat." You awkwardly chuckled out.

Her eyes immidietly fell back on you. "Oh really? I don´t want to bother since you´re not the sailor of this boat." Her voice sounded so soft, yet harsh at the same time. It was luring you, by every word she said, you felt different emotion each time. A good emotions.

"I mean I´m on a shift now, so teoretically I am sailor of this boat." You smiled, youre pupils were so big and you felt like you were in euhporia.

She smiled softly. Her smile could make a whole army fall to their knees. You knew it, but most imporatnly she did too. But there was only one person she want to fall on their knees. And that person was you.

"Okay then, sailor..." her raspy voice now coming lower to your body, slowly eletrucing you. "I just need a little favor, my tail..." She let out a little whine, completly changing her body language. She didn´t seem so confident, she looked so fragile and sad. And you have to help her.

"Are you hurt?!" You imidditetly walk closer to her. Crouching so youre on the same eye level. She place her hand on yours, looking at you and finally, she bonded. Her touch made you feel cold and warm at the same time. Butterflies flying everywhere not just in your stomach and her eyes. Her captivating eyes has already read you like a whole book. Her eyes were an entrancing shade of emerald, deep and captivating like the hidden depths of the sea. They held an enigmatic allure, with a hint of mischief and ancient wisdom that drew you in, ensnaring your heart and mind.

"A little-" she sigh and looks away. "-maybe you can help me get back, to safety, where no one can find us." The soft spoken woman look at you, making eye contact again, while her hand is still on yours.

"Us?" Your words caught her off guard.

"Yes, us, darling. You know, not all people are kind as you are. Youre the only one who ever made me feel safe. Youre the only one i can trust now. Youre-" she blinks a few times, leaning closer to you. "-youre my saviour. Will you help me, darling? Help us to get to safety? The world is too cruel and we need to decide right now."

This was the task you were waiting your whole life on here. Make sure she is safe, there is nothing else that is more important than this. You nod, still making eye contact.

"I will. Of course!" You nod again, taking this job very seriously, as you felt like you were born for this.

"Say it. Say what you were made to do, darling." Raspiness was now the only thing that you´ve heard. You were less and less interested in your work and your tasks before her.

Before her there was... was there anything before her?

"I will help you. I will help us get to safety." Your eyes scanned her face, hoping these words will help her.

"Thank you my darling, will you follow me? Please?" her eyes were watery, she´s holing back tears and that tears your heart.

"Yes." You say without hasitation.

"Yes, what, darling?" She asks.

"Yes, uh-" suddnely you feel this sensation, your head feels fuzzy and your view is more and more bright. Your words are caugh up in your throat, when you looked at her lips you can see them moving, but your ears cant catch the word she´s saying. But your mind does.

"Yes, mistress." you whisper back as it´s the only thing you can say.

As you closed your eyes for a second, the world around you seemed to blur and fade. The warm feeling never leaving your side.

Time itself shifted, as if you were wrapped in a comforting cocoon. The soft, rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore became a lullaby and there is it was again. Her singing. Her soft and heart warming singing.

When you finally stirred, it was as if you had awakened in a dream. The dimly lit cave, adorned with iridescent seashells and many other decorations, that suited the cave. And there, before you, was a siren of unparalleled beauty, her emerald eyes reflecting the cave's soft luminescence.

"Hello, darling..." she slowly moved towards you "...slept well?" her smirk grew wider as she saw your hand immidietly going between your legs as there was some unbeliveble aching you were feeling.

"I- uh huh" You only nod, not realizing that your hand is going lower on your body.

The siren´s hand falls on your cheeks as she tuck some of your falen hair behind your ear. Not even for a second breaking eye contact. Without second thinking you grab her hands and put them on your body, that was covered in your wet clothes.

"P-please!" Was all you could have said. She just chuckled and squeezed your breasts.

"You don´t even know my name and you want me to fuck you? Aww darling, youre way easier than I thought you would be. So so so easy" She tsked and suddenly, you didn´t felt her hands on you anymore.

"I don´t care!" You yelp as the aching was even worse now. Is this what drugs do to you? You just want more and more and still it isn´t enough.

The siren looked at you shocked, her hand was placed on her chest as a sign of being offended. "Darling, you don´t care what my name is? That´s rude." She pout. Tears immidietly filling her eyes. "And I thought you don´t want to hurt me, yet you´re just like the others." She looked away.

"Wait- No, no, no! Im not like the others, Im sorry! Im so sorry! I want to know your name. Oh gosh I didn´t want to be so selfish!" You grabbed her arm. "Please, tell me your name, I bet it´s beautiful just like you!"

"You think Im beautiful?" Her green eyes falling back on you.

"Very." You nod.

"It´s Natasha." She wiped her tears.

"Okay, Natasha. Im sorry for being selfish, It was really mean, let me make it up to you, please." You felt so sad, like every joy just left your body forever. Like you didn´t even experience a single happy thing in your life. Like everything was just dark.

"You´re right, you did act very selfish and mean. And you should definetly make it up to me, (Y/N)." Natasha seems so small right now, like a small fish in a big dark ocean.

"Anything you want, just please- forgive me." You basically whined at this point.

"(Y/N), you truly hurted my feelings, I don´t know. How can i trust you not hurting me again?" The horrible feeling of guilt is forming not just in your stomach, but also in your head now.

Natasha looked really hurt by your words. And you felt like if you´ll lose her, you´ll lose yourself, forever.

You squeezed her hand. "I will never. How can i prove it to you? Please..." You knew this will work. "... mistress, let me prove to you, I won´t ever hurt you and Im truly so sorry!"

Her eyes shifted, her pretty green color in her eyes just dissapeared and turned into black.

"Take of your clothes. They´re wet, you will get sick. Aren´t you cold, darling?" At her words you did feel the cold breeze. Actually you were freezing.

"Y-y-yeah, Im freezing." You said while your teeth chattered.

"Oh, darling! Clothes off, righ now!" She ordered and you did as she told. "I don´t want you catch a cold!" Her voice was caring, so caring you didn´t think you deserve it, after how mean you´ve been acting towards her.

As you stand there, completly naked the shivering didn´t end, it got even worse and your nipples could cut dimonds now.

"You´re still cold? Oh, darling, come here." She pointed at her tail. "My tail is warm, it´s gonna keep you from freezing to death." Her smile could cure everything negative thing in this world.

Without second guessing you almost jumped at her, your hand wanting to touch her tail, but you stopped yourself. "May I? Mistress?" Natasha just nodded. You hand immidietly touching her tail.

It´s so soft, oh my god and warm! So so warm.

"Sit on it, darling." She take your hands and guided you on her tail. "It will make you warm, so warm, it will end the shivers, I promise."

So you did. You sat on her tail and if you felt tingles everywhere before, then now there are tignles even in places you don´t have. Running your fingers along its sleek, supple surface was like caressing a piece of heaven. Its velvety texture and gentle, soothing warmth enveloped you in a sense of euphoria, as if you were touching a living embodiment of comfort and enchantment, a sensation that melted away all of your less important other thoughts.

Natasha noticed you´re still shivering and put her hand on your hips. "Darling, if you start to move you will stop shivering. Fast friction makes heat and you really need to be in heat now, darling." Natasha was right, her words were exactly what you needed, but you just didn´t know how.

How can I do this? I don´t want to hurt her tail.

"You won´t hurt my tail, darling. I will guide you, okay?" Her strong hands squeezed your hips and slowly made you move back and forth. "Just like that, you´re doing so good."

After a little while you start to get the hang of it and you felt that amazing friction again. Everything started to feel so good, all the lost joy, all the good feeling are back. All the happy thoughts.

"Oh my god- it´s really working!" You screamed.

"I know, darling. I can feel you on my tail. Keep going." She wispered in your ear.

You did. Oh boy, you did. You moved your hips back and forth faster and faster. And at the same time it got easier, maybe it´s the tail, or maybe it´s the fact that your juices were all over Natasha.

You definetly felt the heat.

Few moments before you came and let all of your juices on the siren´s tail, she started to sing again. In the same language you couldn´t understand before, but you can now. It´s like you know the song all your life.

"Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing alone in the dark,

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We're gonna take what you'll sorely miss,

But not for long you gonna think,

Let us help, and you won´t sink.

Your life might have been so perfect,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

After the red head stopped singing, she looked at you and finally closed the gap between you two. Your first kiss was a moment of exquisite tenderness, a meeting of souls that overlap the boundaries of land and sea. As their lips brushed together, it was a gentle, captivating exchange of warmth and desire. In that soft, lingering kiss, they found a connection that was as deep and boundless as the ocean itself, a love that defied all expectations and left you utterly in her arms.

"I forgive you, darling." Natasha said and you knew, you found your life task. As she holds you close on her tail your eyes fell back into the warm fuzzy feeling, you didn´t mind be in forever.

Hope you enjoyed first day of KINKTOBER!

Thank you for reading!!!

[a-certain-romance]

She can hardly wait

Characters/Ships: Yae Miko x fem!reader & Dehya x fem!reader

Synopsis:

Warnings: Smut written by a minor, a/b/o dynamics (both) possessive tendencies (Miko), biting (Miko), fangs (Miko), mentions of blood (Miko), Praise (Dehya), Riding (Deyha)

In actuality, you had nothing against not wanting Miko to help you through your heat. But you couldn’t help but be somewhat wary of the person she would become when the cycle gets to her.

So when your heat came around the corner and you avoided her as best as you could, this sly fox decides to make no interference whatsoever. If you really think you can handle it alone, so be it. She won’t stop you. Miko knows you’ll need her eventually. It’s only a matter of time until you come crawling to her with tears in your eyes.

In fact, she’ll do things to purposely tease the shit out of you. Showing off her legs more, whispering in your ear with a breathy voice, lingering touches too close for comfort. “I’m sure you must have a good reason to keep this from me. But dear, wouldn’t your rather let me take it from here, hmm?”

She wants you to beg for it. Her favorite part about this whole process is how weak and willing you would undoubtedly become. Miko can smell your desire from a mile away so it’s only a matter of time. She finds this whole idea laughable. What am I going to do, break you? She’s debating it.

It’s all fun and games to her. That is until, your scent starts to attract the attention of others. Left and right, men & women approach you more often, offering their their “assistance” to help satisfy their your needs.

And it ticked Miko off. Tch, like they can do any better. Perhaps she spent too much watching you tremble and not enough time doing anything about it. It’s about time she gives you what you’ve been aching for.

“My, you are desperate little thing” her index finger slides slowly down your stomach. “Tell me. Would you have said yes to them? Those faceless scoundrels who don’t know you like I do.”

“Never, Miko—“

“That’s right, because you’re mine. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good” She taps her finger firmly at your entrance in a familiar pattern. Three, two, one…one, two, three.

“Alright, I believe I’ve teased you long enough. It’s about time to let the world know who you belong to, don’t you think?”

Her pointed teeth pierce the skin right above your collarbone. At the same time, Miko slides the end of her cock past your folds. With that, every sensation becomes heightened. Even though it’s only the tip, you arch yourself close to her.

“Well aren’t you needy” She swipes a bit of blood off her pointed fangs as she smirks down at you. “It’s only just the tip. I’ve barley touched you yet.” Miko leans down to lick your wound clean.

“There. If anyone should dare to defy this mark, they shall answer to me. Now let’s finish this, shall we?”

Dehya on the otherhand is the polar opposite of Miko. She would drop everything to be with you if you called for her. She’s on you in seconds the minute she smells you flare up. Deyha’s managed to keep track of the time of your cycles so she can prepare accordingly. She’s been with you long enough to know the signs: flushed cheeks paired with a stronger scent and a little bit of extra clinginess. It makes her wonder why you’re hiding this time around.

Deyha brings a bag of overnight clothes to your place where you’ve been isolating yourself. She finds you huddled in a pile of blankets, sweating profusely. Only this time it wasn’t because of Sumeru’s intense weather.

“Missed me?”

You mumble out a response to which she shakes her head at. Before tending to your sexual needs, she forces you to drink a cup of water and removes a few blankets from your bed so they won’t get in the way later. You explain afterwards how Dehya’s involvement with Sumeru’s chaos lead to you decide to go through this one on your own since she seemed preoccupied with other matters. She lightly scolds you for not mentioning this sooner. Dehya doesn’t stay mad for too long though. Now that she’s here, she’s going to make you spend your day and night working through your heat.

“That’s it..that’s my girl. Think you can take it all the way?” Dehya opens your legs wider around her waist and pulls you close to her chest. It never fails to shock you how she can go from pampering you to pounding you at a moment’s notice.

She groans into your neck when she bottoms out. “You’re taking my cock so well baby”. Her hand caresses your cheek, “I’ll make you feel so good. I’m gonna start thrusting now, okay?”

Her stokes are languid as you get used to the position. But your intoxicating scent triggers a rut of her own. Her breath hitches. A new feeling suddenly being awoken. She brazenly pulls you you closer by the hips to meet her thrusts. The closer you are, the further she fucks her shaft into you.

“Nnh, please just hold still for me, like a good girl would” Dehya changes the angle to hit deeper than before. The way her cock drags against your walls feels heavenly. Despite this being your heat, she’s a whimpering mess trying to please the both of you.

“Baby, you feel so good,” she whispers close to your ear, “Such a good girl. I need to—“

Her the throbbing head repeatedly knocks against your cervix. She swells, pulls out, and shoots her load on your stomach. Your slick still continues to drip from between your legs; your satisfaction not entirely met. You still need Dehya’s help. And that means you’re going to let her take you however she wants, right?