#you might meet someone who is having a bad time if you walk alone at night this is true. but like. welcome to life? idk?

[hottiesforhockey]

jealousy, jealousy ⏐ e.pettersson

pairings: elias pettersson x reader genre: fluff ⎜ established relationship ⎜ romance ⎜slice of life? ⎜ warnings: none tbh... this is just short and sweet synopsis: your best friend invites you to a birthday get together with some of his teammates - it's pretty hard to socialise when he refuses leave your side. word count: 2.6k authors note:  this is pretty short and sweet - I think we all lack a little EP40 in our lives so here's enough to get you by. (p.s. I know the poll said "the big oopsie" first but hear me out - this one just happened, okay. Auston's fic is in progress and about half way done!)

(unedited)

The moment Elias asked you to come with him to a "casual, no-pressure, totally chill" birthday get-together with his teammates, you knew two things:

One - This was absolutely a setup.

And two - He owed you. Big time.

Because let’s be real—walking into a room full of professional hockey players who’d probably judge your entire existence based on your drink choice and your ability to keep up with their insults—chirping, as Elias had recently explained—was not exactly how you planned on spending your Friday night.

But then Elias hit you with that look—the one that made it impossible to say no. The one that practically screamed I need you to come so I don’t have to suffer alone without him actually saying the words. His big blue eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, waiting for the inevitable ‘yes’ he knew was coming.

And, well. You were weak.

Pathetic, really.

So here you were, standing in the middle of the crowded entryway, regretting every single life decision that led you to this moment.

"Relax," Elias murmured, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in close, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear. His hand settled at your hip, grounding and insistent, as he pushed the door shut behind you. "You look like you’re bracing for war."

"That's because I am," you muttered back, your eyes darting to the cluster of guys he was leading you toward. They were loud. Too loud. Someone was already chirping someone else about a missed goal from two games ago, and there was an entire debate happening over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. (It did. You would die on that hill.)

"Come on," Elias nudged you forward, his grip tightening slightly, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t about to let you fend for yourself. "They're not that bad, I promise."

"Says you," you shot back. "I’m the one walking into a testosterone-fueled lion’s den with no backup plan."

"Your backup plan is me," he said, his hand now resting low on your back as he guided you through the crowd. "And I’m excellent at sticking to plans.” Before you could fire back a snarky response, the group had fully spotted you both. The room fell silent for what felt like an eternity, eyes flicking between you and Elias before conversations slowly picked back up.

"Petey!" someone called, and suddenly you were in it, surrounded by an overwhelming mix of aftershave, expensive cologne, and the undeniable energy of men who spent way too much time together—probably more than they did with their own families. Elias sent out quick, easy smiles as he navigated through the crowd, dropping his present onto a table before immediately shifting back to your side, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist like a silent claim.

“Everyone, meet my—” Elias hesitated, his gaze flickering down to you, something unreadable flashing across his face before he looked back at the group. 

What was he going to say? 

Friend? Girlfriend? 

“Someone very special to me.” He relents, the knowing glances exchanged between his teammates weren’t subtle. Elias quickly added your name, his voice measured, controlled, as he rattled off quick introductions, keeping you close—like he was afraid you’d bolt if he let go.

You wouldn’t, of course. But it was cute that he thought you might.

The group was momentarily distracted when food was announced, shifting toward the massive dining table in the backyard. You settled into your seat at the far end, Elias beside you, his knee knocking into yours, his palm resting casually on your thigh as he slipped into an animated conversation with the guy beside him.

But it didn’t take long before the attention turned to you.

"So, you're the famous best friend," one of them—Quinn, maybe?—grinned, resting his chin in his hand as he studied you like you were an interesting new puzzle. "Petey talks about you all the time."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Does he?" You grimaced, clearing your throat to cover the surprise.

Elias tensed beside you, shifting slightly in his seat, his grip on your thigh tightening. “I wouldn’t say tha—”

"He does," another guy—JT? Brock?—confirmed without missing a beat. "A lot. Like, a lot a lot. To the point where I think he might be obsessed.”

"Huh." You turned to Elias, biting back a smirk. "That true, Petey?"

"Don't let them get in your head," Elias warned, sending his teammates a sharp look. "They're just messing with you."

"They don’t have to try very hard," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

And then it happened.

The telltale red creeping up Elias’s neck, his lips pressing into a tight line as his jaw tensed. Because apparently, the guys loved you. 

Way more than expected.

One of them pulled up a seat beside you—shoving Elias slightly out of the way—to dive into a deep conversation about movies. Another leaned forward, peppering you with questions like you were the most interesting person in the room. Someone else (you were pretty sure this one was Brock) actually went wide-eyed when you mentioned your latest book obsession.

And Elias?

Elias was seething.

It wasn’t obvious—not to anyone else, anyway. But you knew him too well to miss the signs. The barely-there twitch in his jaw. The way he sat up a little straighter, his grip on his drink a fraction too tight. The flicker of irritation in his eyes every time one of his teammates made you laugh.

It was hilarious. To you. To them. To everyone except Elias.

"Wow," you said, leaning in close enough to ensure he could hear you, your voice laced with amusement. "You never told me your teammates were this charming."

Elias’s gaze tracked Quinn as he handed you his phone, grinning as you typed something in. His arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers grazing your shoulder with clear intent.

"They're not usually," Elias deadpanned, his tone flat.

You smirked. "You sure? Because I think I just got invited to a game night."

Elias made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

"Oh my God," you whispered, eyes widening in exaggerated shock. "Are you jealous?"

"Of them?" he scoffed. "Not a chance."

"Uh-huh," you drawled, dragging out the syllables. "That’s why your death glare is currently burning a hole in Quinn’s head, right?"

Elias exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You are insufferable."

"And you," you mused, leaning into him, "are adorable when you're possessive."

He shot you a look, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

"I should’ve left you at home."

"But then you’d have to deal with them alone."

Elias huffed, exasperated. "Honestly? Might've been worth it."

You grinned, nudging his leg under the table. "Too bad. You’re stuck with me."

And despite himself, Elias smiled.

Elias exhaled, shaking his head like you were the biggest headache and the best thing that had ever happened to him all at once. His fingers flexed against your thigh before he finally leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if one of them starts planning a wedding in their head, I’m walking out."

You snorted, taking a sip of your drink as Quinn—oblivious to Elias’s growing torment—grinned at you. "Speaking of weddings," he said, resting his forearms on the table. "Petey ever tell you about his dream proposal?"

Elias nearly choked on his beer. "Quinn—"

"Oh, this I have to hear," you interrupted, perking up. "Go on."

Quinn smirked, clearly revelling in Elias’s distress. "So, Petey’s always said that if he ever found the one, he’d want it to be—"

"Okay, that’s enough out of you," Elias cut in, reaching across the table to swipe a fry off Quinn’s plate and shove it into his mouth like that would somehow shut him up.

You turned to Elias, amusement dancing in your eyes. "A romantic, huh? Should’ve known."

Elias swallowed hard, glaring at his teammates, who were barely holding back their laughter. "I hate all of you," he grumbled, but the tips of his ears had turned pink.

"Sure you do," you teased, nudging your knee against his again.

The conversation moved on, but the warmth of Elias’s touch never left your skin. The longer you sat there, the more comfortable you became, letting yourself fall into easy banter with the team. At some point, someone dragged you into a heated debate about which Marvel movie was superior (you refused to back down from your stance on Captain America: The Winter Soldier), and Elias—despite his continued attempts to look unimpressed—was definitely watching.

His gaze lingered whenever you laughed, softened when you absentmindedly stole a fry from his plate, flickered with something almost unreadable when Quinn leaned a little too close while showing you a picture on his phone.

And then, as if he’d finally had enough, Elias shifted.

His arm slid fully around your shoulders, tugging you just enough that your bodies were pressed together, your side flush against his. His fingers traced absentminded patterns along the curve of your shoulder, the casual intimacy of it making your stomach flip.

"Comfortable?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly to look at him.

Elias didn’t miss a beat. "Mhm." He hums, his fingers showing no sign of stopping their minuscule movements. 

The night continued, and despite your initial nerves, you were actually having fun. The team was rowdy, sure, but they were also hilarious, treating you like you’d been part of the group forever.

Elias, however, was barely holding it together.

At first, it was just the occasional twitch of his jaw or his fingers tightening on your thigh whenever someone got a little too comfortable in your space. But when one of the guys—Brock, of all people—decided to get extra friendly, Elias reached his breaking point.

"You’re actually the best for putting up with Petey," Brock said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "Can’t believe he kept you hidden this long."

You laughed. "Oh, he didn’t hide me. I just don’t usually spend my Friday nights in a room full of hockey players."

Brock smirked. "Tragic. We could’ve been best friends by now."

You grinned, about to respond when Brock suddenly draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a half-hug like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Don’t worry, I’ll make up for lost time," he declared.

Elias was out of his chair before you could blink.

His arm hooked around your waist in one smooth motion, tugging you out of Brock’s grasp and straight into him. You barely caught yourself, your palms landing on Elias’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

The entire table went dead silent.

"Alright," Elias said, his voice deceptively light, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it. "Think you’ve had enough time getting to know my date, Brock."

Your breath caught. Date?

Brock raised his hands in surrender, grinning like he’d just won something. "Easy, Petey. Didn’t realise we were claiming now."

Elias ignored him entirely, his full attention locked on you. His hand settled at the small of your back, pressing just enough to keep you close, his fingers flexing against the fabric of your shirt.

"You good?" he asked, voice quieter now, just for you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse stuttering. "Yeah, he was just being friendly” you murmured, taking in his tense posture and the glare he’s shooting over your shoulder at his teammate. “Are you?" You question softly. 

Elias exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering over your face, searching. "No," he admitted, so low you barely heard it.

Your heart flipped.

And then, before you could think too hard about it, before logic had the chance to kick in, you reached up, threading your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down—

And kissed him.

Elias made a quiet, almost surprised sound before he melted into it, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His lips were warm, firm, but not rushed—like he was savoring it, like he’d been waiting.

The world around you faded—no loud teammates, no teasing voices—just the steady, intoxicating press of Elias against you.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath a little uneven.

"Wow," Brock muttered somewhere in the background. "Should we clap, or…?"

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers still tangled in Elias’s hair as he groaned.

"Ignore them," he murmured, lips ghosting over yours like he was already thinking about kissing you again.

You smiled. "Already forgotten."

And when he kissed you again—slower this time, more sure—you knew you weren’t walking out of this night just as Elias’s friend anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, wrapped up in Elias, but when you finally pulled back, your face felt warm, your lips tingling from the lingering press of his.

Elias looked just as wrecked as you felt. His blue eyes were darker now, still fixed on your mouth like he was debating going in for a third kiss, his grip on your waist firm like he wasn’t ready to let go.

"Well," Quinn finally broke the silence, his voice full of amusement. "That was unexpected."

Elias didn’t even glance his way. "No, it wasn’t."

You bit back a laugh, your fingers still resting against the nape of his neck. "Oh, so this was the plan all along?"

His gaze flicked back to yours, and instead of answering, he just looked at you—really looked, like he was trying to memorise this moment, brand it into his mind.

And then, with a slight smirk, he murmured, "Worked, didn’t it?"

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

Someone wolf-whistled, and Elias finally, reluctantly, let you go—though his fingers still trailed down your arm before fully releasing you, like he couldn’t help himself.

Brock leaned forward, grinning. "So, does this mean you're officially off-limits, or do we still have a chance?"

Elias shot him a look—one that would have sent lesser men running.

Quinn snickered. "Dude, I’ve never seen Petey glare this hard in his life."

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth of Elias’s claim still buzzed beneath your skin. "I don’t know," you mused, sending Elias a teasing glance. "Are you officially staking your claim, Petey?"

His jaw twitched, his fingers tapping idly against his glass before he leaned in just enough that only you could hear him.

"I think that kiss made it pretty clear," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

You swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

His lips twitched. "Want me to do it again just to be sure?"

God, you hated how easily he got under your skin. How a simple look, a soft-spoken challenge, could turn your thoughts to mush.

But you weren’t about to let him win that easily.

You tilted your head, considering. "Maybe you should, just to be thorough."

Elias exhaled sharply, like he was barely holding on to his patience, then—so fast it made your breath catch—he tugged you back in, his lips pressing firmly against your cheek, the feeling of his lips spreading out in a grin as he moves away with a loud “mwah”.

It was a kiss that said mine. 

When he finally pulled away, he settles his chin on your head, chuckling softly as your hands hold his shirt tightly, a pout on your lips. 

"You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something fond.

You grinned. "Absolutely."

And from the way he looked at you, from the way his hands still lingered, you had a feeling Elias didn’t mind one bit.

[gideonisms]

"don't walk alone at night as a woman" "don't live alone as a woman" "don't try to buy a car by yourself as a woman" damn it's almost like people just don't want women to do things

[daemonbrain]

Part 1

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird. 

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop. 

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would. 

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun. 

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever. 

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied. 

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years. 

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways. 

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay. 

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face. 

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for. 

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road. 

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed. 

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-” 

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.” 

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed. 

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird. 

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours. 

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes”  He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy. 

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move. 

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him. 

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!” 

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing. 

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

LINGER

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a sweet, introverted bartender and obx’s very own troubled golden boy share an unspoken connection—until jealousy, misunderstandings, and unspoken feelings finally push them to confront the truth.

based on this ask !! i hope you enjoy anon, and i hope it’s what you asked for :)

WARNINGS: brief angst, cursing, alcohol consumption, topper being annoying, jealous!rafe, jj being flirty with reader😝, “love” confessions, rafe not feeling good enough, mutual pining, but a cute fluffy end !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 3.8k (i got REALLY carried away !!)

THIRD PERSON +

The hum of conversation filled the bar on Figure 8, mingling with the low beats of a classic rock playlist. It was a quieter night than usual, with only a handful of regulars clustered at tables and the occasional newcomer drifting in. Y/N stood behind the bar, wiping down the polished surface even though it hardly needed cleaning. She wasn't one to sit idle, and, truth be told, she was grateful for something to do.

The nights when Rafe Cameron came in made it nearly impossible for her to relax.

He was seated at the far end of the bar now, nursing a drink he didn't seem all that interested in. His sharp jawline caught the low light, the curve of his lips tugged into what might have been a smirk—or perhaps he was just lost in thought. Either way, Y/N found it difficult not to glance at him every few minutes, only to whip her gaze away whenever his blue eyes threatened to meet hers.

She knew his routine well by now. Rafe always came in alone, usually later in the evening when the crowd had thinned out. He was polite—surprisingly so—but there was something about him that felt dangerous, like a storm rolling in just beyond the horizon. The other bartenders whispered about him when he wasn't around, but Y/N didn't pay much attention to the gossip. She only knew what she saw: a man who lingered a little too long, who seemed to light up when she stumbled through small talk, who always tipped well even though she was sure she got his drink orders wrong half the time.

Tonight, as she fiddled nervously with the sleeves of her long sleeve tee, she could feel his eyes on her. She braced herself, stealing one more calming breath before walking toward his side of the bar.

"Need a refill, Rafe?" she asked, her voice barely louder than the music.

Rafe looked up, his expression softening the moment he saw her. "Yeah," he said, pushing his glass forward. "Same thing as before, please."

Y/N nodded quickly and reached for the bottle of bourbon, her hands trembling slightly as she poured. She could feel his gaze burning into her, the weight of his attention making her heart pound in her chest.

"Long night?" he asked suddenly, his voice smooth but laced with something almost boyish.

"Hmm?" she mumbled, nearly sloshing the liquor over the rim of his glass. "Oh, uh, yeah. Sort of."

"You're always working so hard," he remarked, leaning forward just a fraction. "Not sure I've ever seen you take a break."

Her cheeks burned as she scrambled to wipe up a stray droplet of bourbon with the edge of her towel. "It's not so bad," she said quickly. "I don't mind staying busy."

"You're good at it," he said, and there was an odd sincerity in his voice that made her stomach twist. "The bartending, I mean. You've got this... thing. Like, you make people feel comfortable."

Y/N froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren't something she received often, and especially not from someone like Rafe Cameron. She fumbled with the garnish tray, pulling out a cherry and dropping it into his glass with shaking fingers.

"Thanks," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.

He smiled then—a real, crooked smile that softened the edges of his typically hard demeanor. "I mean it," he said, taking the drink from her. His fingers brushed hers, just barely, but the contact sent a shiver down her spine. "You're easy to talk to, even when you're... y'know, kind of shy."

She blinked at him, unsure whether to laugh or apologise. Instead, she ducked her head, the warm feeling in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "I, uh... I'm not great at talking. Sorry."

"Don't be," he said, his voice low and warm. "It's cute."

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, she was sure she'd imagined the way he looked at her—like she was something worth noticing. But before she could respond, the sound of someone calling her name from the other end of the bar jolted her back to reality. She muttered a quick excuse and darted away, her heart racing as she busied herself with another customer.

Rafe watched her go, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. He hated how his chest tightened whenever she was near, how he felt like a nervous wreck every time she so much as glanced in his direction. She was sweet, kind-hearted, and far too good for someone like him.

And yet, he couldn't stop himself from lingering.

An hour later, the bar had grown busier, and Y/N found herself working harder to avoid Rafe's gaze. She didn't notice the arrival of Topper Thornton until his voice boomed across the room, drawing Rafe's attention.

Rafe liked watching her. She was different from anyone else he knew—a little clumsy, a little shy, but always kind. Too kind, he thought, for someone like him. She didn't belong to the same cutthroat world of backstabbing and manipulation that he did. She was sunshine, soft and untouchable, and every time he caught himself staring too long, he felt like a thief.

He didn't deserve her.

"Yo, Rafe!" Topper's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and grating. Rafe turned to see his best friend approaching with a blonde girl in tow. She was pretty in a polished, effortless way—designer dress, manicured nails, a confident smile that screamed old money.

"This is Whitney," Topper announced, nudging Rafe's shoulder. "Told her you've been a free agent too long."

Rafe forced a tight smile, shaking Whitney's hand. She was pretty, sure. She had that typical Kook look, all high cheekbones and cold elegance. But she didn't spark anything in him. Not like Y/N did.

"Hi," Whitney said, her voice lilting with practiced charm.

"Hey," Rafe replied, stealing a glance back at the bar.

Y/N had seen it all—the introduction, the way Whitney tilted her head flirtatiously, the way Topper patted Rafe on the back like he'd just scored a win. Her heart sank, and she turned her attention to cleaning the counter with exaggerated focus, hoping to block out the scene playing out before her.

It was stupid to feel this way. She and Rafe weren't anything, not really. He was just a customer, and she was the awkward bartender who could barely string a sentence together around him. But seeing him with someone else, someone who seemed to fit so effortlessly into his world, made her chest tighten painfully.

When Rafe returned to the bar for another drink, Y/N kept her head down. Her usual nervous warmth was replaced by a cold efficiency as she mixed his order.

"Here," she said curtly, sliding the glass across the counter without looking up.

Rafe frowned. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He hesitated, searching her face for something—anything—that would explain the sudden change in her demeanor. But she didn't give him the chance to linger this time, quickly turning away to serve another customer.

Rafe's stomach twisted. She was shutting him out, and he didn't know why. Was it Whitney? Did she think he liked her? He didn't, not in the way he liked Y/N. But how could he explain that without sounding like an idiot? What was he even thinking? They weren't even together.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of frustration and longing. Whitney clung to Rafe's arm, laughing at his half-hearted jokes and batting her lashes at him, but he barely noticed. His focus was on Y/N—on the way she avoided his gaze, the stiffness in her shoulders, the forced politeness in her voice whenever he ordered another drink.

She hated him now. He was sure of it.

"Rafe, are you even listening?" Whitney's voice snapped him back to reality.

"Yeah," he lied, forcing a tight smile.

But he wasn't. His mind was with Y/N, replaying every moment of the night, searching for the moment he'd ruined everything.

—

The crisp night air nipped at Y/N's skin as she stepped out of the bar, her breath curling in wispy clouds before vanishing into the dark. The quiet of the island after hours was always a comfort, the distant crash of waves on the shore a reminder of home. But tonight, no amount of serene surroundings could quiet the ache twisting in her chest.

She tightened her coat around her as she walked to her car, her mind replaying the evening in an endless loop. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Rafe Cameron in the bar. She'd grown used to his presence, even come to anticipate it with a nervous sort of excitement. But tonight was different. Tonight, he hadn't been alone.

Y/N hated the way her stomach had dropped at the sight of the blonde girl—Whitney, as she'd overheard Topper call her—clinging to Rafe's arm, her perfectly manicured nails resting on his bicep like she had every right to be there. The girl was beautiful, confident, and poised in a way Y/N knew she could never be. She was everything a Kook girl was supposed to be, and everything Y/N wasn't.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel as she drove home, the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement doing little to soothe her. She felt ridiculous, stupid even, for letting herself feel this way. Rafe wasn't hers, and he never would be. He was just a guy who came into the bar, a customer she barely knew beyond the surface. But that wasn't entirely true, was it?

The way he lingered at the bar, the way he seemed to soften when he talked to her, the way he looked at her like she was someone worth noticing—it had all felt so real. She couldn't help but replay every stolen glance, every hesitant smile, every compliment he'd offered in his quiet, almost bashful way.

But now, all of that felt like a cruel joke. Maybe she'd imagined it, read too much into his kindness because she wanted to believe it was something more. Maybe he'd been looking at her out of boredom, not interest. Maybe he had never thought about her at all.

Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard against the sting of tears. She hated how vulnerable she felt, how easily her emotions betrayed her. She had always prided herself on being independent, on not needing anyone's validation. But Rafe Cameron had slipped past her defenses, and now she was paying the price for letting him linger in her thoughts and feelings.

By the time she reached her small, cozy house, the weight in her chest had settled into a dull ache. She dropped her keys on the counter and sank onto the couch, her thoughts still swirling like a storm. Her parents had always supported her decision to work, even though she could have easily coasted on their wealth like so many other Kooks. She liked earning her own way, proving to herself and the world that she was more than just another privileged kid on Figure 8.

But tonight, she felt small and insignificant, like the world was reminding her that she didn't belong in Rafe Cameron's orbit. He was a hurricane, magnetic and destructive, and she was just a quiet breeze, unnoticed and easily forgotten.

And yet, she couldn't stop thinking about him.

—

The door to Rafe's house closed with a heavy thud, and he let out a long, exhausted sigh as he leaned against it. The evening had been a disaster, but it wasn't because of Whitney. In fact, he could hardly remember a single thing she'd said. His mind had been elsewhere all night, fixated on the one thing he couldn't stop thinking about: Y/N.

He pushed off the door and made his way to the kitchen, the silence of the house pressing in around him. His family was used to him coming and going at odd hours, and tonight he was grateful for the solitude. Pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the counter, his thoughts a jumbled mess.

Y/N had been different tonight, and it had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. She'd barely looked at him, her usual shy, awkward charm replaced by a cold formality that felt like a punch to the gut. He replayed the moment over and over, searching for the exact second he must have done something to upset her.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realised it wasn't just her behavior that had unsettled him—it was how much it had affected him.

He liked her. He really, truly liked her. It was a quiet, consuming sort of affection that had taken him by surprise. At first, it had been easy to dismiss—the way his chest tightened when she smiled, the way his heart raced whenever their fingers brushed. But now, after months of stolen moments and lingering glances, he couldn't deny it anymore.

He thought about the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her voice softened when she spoke to him, the way her cheeks flushed whenever he managed to fluster her. She was kind in a way that felt rare, genuine in a way that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn't beyond redemption.

But tonight, all of that had felt out of reach.

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Whitney had been a mistake—a distraction Topper had pushed on him that he never should have agreed to. She'd been all wrong from the start, her shallow questions and empty compliments grating on his nerves. She didn't care about him; she cared about the idea of him, the money and status he represented.

But Y/N... Y/N had never treated him like that. She didn't care about his family name or his bank account. She didn't try to impress him or play games. She was just herself, awkward and sweet and so genuine it made his chest ache.

And now, he might have ruined everything.

The thought made his stomach churn. He didn't know how to fix it, didn't even know where to start. All he knew was that he couldn't bear the thought of her looking at him the way she had tonight—like he was a stranger, someone unworthy of her time.

Rafe set the empty glass down on the counter and scrubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't used to feeling this way, vulnerable and uncertain. But Y/N had a way of unraveling him, of making him question everything he thought he knew about himself.

He didn't deserve her, not really. But he couldn't stop himself from wanting her anyway.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, his thoughts were filled with her—her shy smiles, her quiet laughter, the way she made him feel like maybe he could be something more than the mess he'd become. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew one thing for sure: Y/N had changed him, and there was no going back.

—

Four days. Four endless, suffocating days.

Rafe Cameron had returned to the bar every single night since that dreadful evening, but each time, there was no sign of Y/N. It didn't sit right with him. The place didn't feel the same without her. She wasn't just another bartender—she was the lifeblood of the space, her sweet, slightly awkward energy drawing customers like moths to a flame.

But now, the warmth was gone. Without her behind the counter, it was just another dimly lit establishment, all noise and no soul.

By the fourth night, his restlessness was unbearable. He stepped into the bar, his sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. This time, she was there. Relief flooded him so quickly it was almost dizzying.

And then he saw who she was talking to.

Y/N was behind the bar, giggling softly as she leaned in closer to none other than JJ Maybank. Her hair slipped forward as she laughed, and she quickly brushed it out of her face, a move Rafe had seen her do countless times. It always left him breathless.

But this time, the sight filled him with a searing, unfamiliar rage.

What the hell was Maybank doing here? This was Kook territory, not The Cut. And worse, what was he doing talking to Y/N like that? The way JJ was leaning against the bar, all easy charm and flirtation, made Rafe's blood boil. He clenched his jaw so hard it ached as he watched JJ flash her one of his trademark smirks.

Rafe's fists tightened at his sides as he stalked over.

The second Y/N noticed him, her expression changed. The soft laughter disappeared, replaced by something guarded and uncertain. The shift stung more than he wanted to admit, but he wasn't here to dwell on it. His eyes flicked to JJ, narrowing with disdain.

"Well, if it isn't JJ Maybank," Rafe drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. "Didn't think you'd ever cross the bridge willingly."

JJ turned, unfazed, and smirked. "What can I say? The service here's worth it." He shot Y/N a wink, which only made Rafe's temper flare.

"Sure it is," Rafe muttered darkly, his gaze never leaving JJ. The air between them crackled with tension, but eventually, JJ shrugged and pushed off the bar.

"I'll catch you later, Y/N," JJ said casually before heading toward the group of Pogues gathered in the corner.

Rafe watched him go, his shoulders rigid with suppressed anger. When he finally turned back to Y/N, her expression was unreadable.

"Something I can get you, Cameron?" she asked coolly, her usual warmth noticeably absent.

Rafe hesitated for a moment before leaning on the bar. "Whiskey, neat—Please."

As she poured his drink, he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "What was he even doing here?"

Y/N glanced up briefly, her expression neutral. "JJ's been here before. He's not exactly banned from Kookland, you know."

Rafe scoffed but didn't press the matter further. The silence between them was suffocating, and it took everything in him to break it.

"How's it been?" he asked, his voice softer now. "I uh, haven't seen ya' around."

She gave him a quick, noncommittal shrug. "Been busy."

The coldness in her tone stung, but Rafe couldn't let it go. He needed to understand what had changed.

"Look," he began, his voice low, "I feel like maybe I upset you the other night. Was it... Was it the girl?"

Y/N froze for a split second before resuming her task, but Rafe didn't miss the way her jaw tightened.

"How was your date, by the way?" she asked, her tone deceptively light.

"It wasn't a date," Rafe said quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head as she turned to face him. "Rafe, come on. It very clearly was. She was practically glued to your side."

"It wasn't," he insisted, his voice firm. "Topper set it up. I didn't even want to go, and I haven't spoken to her since." He hesitated, his blue eyes meeting hers. "She's not really my type."

Something in his tone gave Y/N pause, but she was too hurt to let it show. "Right," she said flatly.

Before she could say more, Rafe's next question caught her off guard. "Are you seeing JJ?"

Her brows furrowed as she stared at him. "What?"

"Are you seeing him?" he repeated, his voice tense.

"No," she said slowly, setting her hands on the counter. "But he did ask me on a date."

The words hit Rafe like a punch to the gut, and before he could think better of it, he blurted out, "Don't go."

Y/N's eyes widened, and she crossed her arms. "Why not?"

Rafe faltered, the confidence he'd managed to muster evaporating under her sharp gaze. He opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat.

"Exactly," she said bitterly, turning away to busy herself with a drink. "That's what I thought."

"Wait," Rafe said suddenly, his voice rough with desperation. "It's not— I..." He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the bar. "I like you, okay?"

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and raw.

Y/N froze, her heart hammering in her chest. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression a mixture of shock and disbelief.

Rafe looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I've been nervous to tell you because... because you're too good for me. You're sweet and kind, and I'm—" He broke off, shaking his head. "I'm not. I've got a lot of darkness, Y/N. I don't want to drag you into it or hurt you."

His voice cracked slightly, and he finally looked up, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability. "I don't want to break you."

For a moment, Y/N didn't say anything, the weight of his confession sinking in. Then, slowly, she stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "You're not going to break me, Rafe."

His brows furrowed as he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was quiet resolve.

"I can see the heart in you," she continued, her gaze steady. "You're different when you're around me, and I know it's real. You don't have to be scared of that."

Rafe's shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing over him like a wave.

"And for the record," she added with a small smile, "I'm not interested in JJ. He's been trying to win me over for a while now, but... it was never going to happen."

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "Good," he muttered, his voice low.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her confidence returning. "Do you have something to ask me, Rafe Cameron?" she teased, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Rafe blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh. He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Will you go out with me?"

Y/N's smile widened as she nodded. "Yeah. I will."

The tension between them melted away, replaced by a quiet understanding that felt both new and inevitable. For the first time in days, Rafe felt like he could breathe again, and Y/N couldn't stop the warmth blooming in her chest.

As the bar buzzed around them, they stood in their own little world, the first fragile threads of something real beginning to weave between them.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i hope you enjoyed this anon !! i had sm fun writing this and thought it was a super sweet plot/concept so thank you for trusting me with it <3

still working my way through requests whilst also working on my little drew starkey mini series (sports car) so please be patient w me my loves :) but also still request any ideas you have ofc !!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Nursle.

Pairing: Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Reader (JJK).

Word Count: 3.4k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Mentions of Pregnancy, Implied Stalking, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Lactation, Slight Breeding Kinks, Daddy Kinks, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, and Age Gaps (Gojo is 20, Reader is 35+).

[Part Two] [Part Three]

A few days into the new school year, you decided that Gojo Satoru could not be Fushiguro Megumi’s primary guardian, despite what the paperwork filed by the former claimed. Honestly, the fact that Megumi’s name had been misspelled in every conceivable way across the aforementioned paperwork should’ve been enough to make that clear, but after a decade of teaching, you’d learned to pick up on the smaller signs; a certain discomfort that passed through Megumi's expression whenever you asked about his homelife, the lapse before a half-hearted answer whenever you posed a question to Satoru as to Megumi's preferences. It didn’t necessarily mean anything bad was going on, just that something was going on - something you couldn’t ignore, not completely.

Four weeks into the new school year, you decided that Fushiguro Megumi did not like Gojo Satoru. All your students were at the age where they were suddenly eager to distance themselves from any adult they could call an authority, but Megumi was the only one still in your classroom hours after the school day ended, the only one who stayed for as long as you could afford to let him. Sometimes, Satoru would make an appearance, loiter outside of your classroom or pass time with the best attempts at small talk someone nearly two decades your junior could make, but Megumi made a habit of ignoring him and try as you might, you'd never had the heart to be very strict with your students. The only days he didn’t stay to help you (as much as a nine year old could help anyone do anything) were the days when his sister was free to pick him up and, much to your relief, Satoru was nowhere to be found.

Two months into the new school year, you found yourself on the doorstep of Gojo Satoru’s listed address which, notably, was not the dingy flat you’d dropped off Megumi in front of whenever he stayed too late to justify letting him walk home alone. Instead, you gaped openly at the skyscraper in front of you, as tall as the eye could see and pouring out the kind of people you couldn’t help but want to get away from. You’d called ahead, let Satoru know you’d be making a home visit to discuss some of your concerns about Megumi, but for as long as he’d kept you on the phone, he’d never bothered to explain why he would ask you to meet him in a place like—

“You’re early, Miss (L/n).”

You stiffened, glanced over your shoulder to find Gojo Satoru – dressed in his usual plain, black uniform and unaccompanied by the student you’d come to discuss. He greeted you with a wide grin, a lazy nod, and you returned it with a purse-lipped smile and a tightened hold on the strap of your messenger bag. “Well, I’d hate to waste your time.” You toyed with the idea of meeting his eyes, but your gaze skirted over the pitch-black lenses of his sunglasses and settled firmly on the collar of his button-up. “And you don’t have to call me that. It makes you sound like one of my students and—” A slight pause, a nervous laugh. “I think you might be a little too old to blend in.”

Satoru’s grin only widened. With only your own paranoia as warning, he strung an arm through the crook of yours, dragging you towards the entrance of his looming tower. “I think it’s got a nice ring to it, Miss.”

Something sharp pricked at the back of your throat.

In hindsight, it might’ve been easier to do this with the nine year old.

You kept your teeth grit and your smile plastered on as he led you through the lobby – all shining crystal chandeliers and glistening marble floors – and hauled you into a gold-gilded elevator, the kind that would’ve let you know you were somewhere you didn’t belong under normal circumstances. You watched in stomach-knotting, heart-stopping terror as the numbers ticked up, up, up, until the mirrored doors were sliding open and you were stepping into the living room that could’ve swallowed your shoebox of an apartment whole. Your heels (blocked, low, practical – the only pair you’d found the strength to wear since coming back from your leave) clicked against the bare tile floor as you stumbled into the remarkably open space, his furniture sparse and largely utilitarian. You spotted one of Megumi’s drawings on a low coffee table, a pile of Tsumiki’s hairbands forgotten on an otherwise empty bookshelf, but any other signs of life were either nonexistent or exceptionally well-hidden. Any hope you had that Megumi and Satoru’s situation might’ve just been that of a young, overburdened guardian and his slow-to-warm ward evaporated immediately. Those of limited means tended not to live in penthouses that cost triple your annual salary in rent.

If Satoru noticed your growing anxiety, he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. With an exaggerated yawn, he strode past you and collapsed onto a leather couch – too pristine to have been recently visited by two hyperactive children. When you stalled near the entryway, he let his head lull to the side, his tinted glasses falling low on the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to be shy. There’s plenty of room – not that I mind the view, if you really wanna stand.”

You took a deep breath and let it out in a long, labored exhale. He’s practically a kid, you reminded yourself. You could only be thankful you hadn’t gotten him a couple of years ago – otherwise, you’d be dealing with an actual child.

Reluctantly, you squared your shoulders and perched yourself on the far edge of the sofa. Satoru immediately closed the distance, draping his lanky arms over the back of the couch, his fingertips just barely brushing against your shoulder. You pulled your messenger bag into your lap, opening your mouth as you looked for Megumi’s file, but Satoru cut in before you could start your well-practiced monologue. “This is your first year at his school, right? I’d remember if I saw a teacher as pretty as you around campus.”

“It’s my first year back,” you corrected. “I’ve noticed Megumi very introverted for a boy his—”

“Let me guess – maternity leave?”

Your lips quirked into a tight frown. Fighting the urge to cross your arms over your stomach self-consciously, you sent him a withering look out of the corner of your eye. “I’d rather not talk about my personal life, if it’s all the same to you. Like I said, I’m not here to waste your time.”

Your tone was clipped, your voice strict, but Satoru’s only response was an airy chuckle, a careless grin. “I’m not in a rush,” he said. “But you’re probably eager to get back home to your baby girl. I know you try to spend time with her on weekends.”

This time, you didn’t try to breathe. Letting your bag fall back to your side, you moved to stand, but Satoru was quick to catch you by the wrist, to pull you back down with a single, playful jerk. Your bag fell off of your shoulder, hitting the floor and spilling open at your feet, but you didn’t reach for it. He was stronger than he looked, and you already knew everything you had to about strong young men with more power than they knew what to do with. “I’d really rather not talk about myself when Megumi is—”

“Can’t be easy, leaving her all alone like that. Did you ask your neighbor to babysit again, or was it that brat of a teenager you call up on weekends?” His hand fell to your thigh, and you immediately regretted wearing a dress, let alone one that ended well before the knee. You’d wanted this to seem causal, unintrusive, but as his fingertips bit into the plush of your thigh, you regretted not going straight to the police as soon as you noticed something strange. “Can’t be easy, not having a husband to dote on you and the little princess anymore.”

You keep your eyes on your feet, on one of the manilla folders spilling out of your bag. Megumi's name was scrawled messily across the upper right corner in red pen, because red was his favorite color and you knew he would see it every time he helped you organize paperwork for your other students. “I appreciate your concern, but we’ve managed to take care of ourselves.”

“I know.” He was close, too close. You could feel his breath, hot and humid, against the shell of your ear. “It’s just that I think I might just be able to take care of you a little better.”

“I think I should leave.” You spoke slowly, your tone flat, factual. Like you were talking to a child, or a dog, or worst of all – a man in monks' clothing, ready to worship at his own alter. “Before either of us does anything we might regret.”

Satoru let his lead lull forward, his fanged smile biting into the corner of your jaw.

You tried to bolt, but it was already too late.

It happened too quickly for you to process. One second, you were writhing in your own skin, your favorite student’s neglectful guardian pressed into your side and the next, you were on your back, splayed over the length of his couch, Satoru’s knee between your open legs and his hands on either side of your head. Your body reacted before your mind, trying to run, to resist, to get away from him, but Satoru’s hand was on your chest before you could so much as sit up, keeping you trapped underneath him without a trace of effort. “You can stop working so hard, momma.” His glasses had fallen away completely, revealing eyes as blinding as the cloudless sky and as unfeeling as raw ice. It was hard to remember why you’d ever thought a man like this could ever have anything to do with a boy as sweet as Megumi. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

You shouldn’t have been so worried about the dress. It didn’t matter how long your skirt was, not when the cheap material fell apart so easily under his eager touch – your bra and panties discarded with just as little thought. You panicked, started to kick and shove and thrash, but his hands were already locked over your hips, keeping you pinned to the couch as he bent down and buried his face between your thighs. However young you’d thought he was, he must’ve been younger; his inexperience shining through in the overzealous way he nipped at the inside of your thighs, how hastily he laved the flat of his tongue over your slit. His pace was rough, his technique nonexistent, but you couldn’t remember the last time you had time to touch yourself, and you hadn’t slept with someone else since…

This time, when your mind went blank, you were the one willing away fractured thoughts and bitter memories. You didn’t want to acknowledge the twisted pleasure Satoru was forcing onto your body either, but it would’ve been impossible to ignore the way his teeth grazed over your clit as he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, to not hear the slick sound you just couldn’t seem to believe a part of you would make as he forced two fingers into your tight pussy. You threw your head back, clenched your eyes shut, but no amount of aversion could seem to block out his throaty laugh, to make the reverberations his deep voice sent pulsing through your cunt anything short of unbearable. “Needy little thing,” he muttered, pulling away just far enough to press a lingering kiss into the apex of your hip. “Bet he was neglecting you even before you ran off. Is that why you had to leave him? He didn’t know how to treat a pretty thing like you?”

You would’ve given anything to make him stop talking, but you didn’t have a chance to try and bargain. While his fingers pumped mercilessly into your pussy, his mouth pushed slow, wet kisses into the rounded curves of your stomach, your midriff, your chest. He noticed it before you did; saw the thin trail of thin, near-transparent fluid running down the curve of your chest before you felt the telltale soreness in your breasts, managed to draw a connection between that and the shallow, airy moan Satoru let out as he ran his tongue over your leaking nipple. He took long, agonizing seconds to lick up the spilled milk before his lips found the closest nipple and finally, he latched onto you properly.

He was worse than your newborn. It was an awful thing to think, it was a terrible thing to have to think, but it was true. He was rough, and clumsy, and noisy – groaning as he lapped and sucked, eager to swallow down anything you had to give. Drool seeped out of the corner of his mouth, whatever pain he might’ve alleviated immediately replaced as the fingertips of his free hand kneaded into your swollen tit. By the time he pulled away, he was panting, scissoring open your pussy with enough force to leave your toes curling, your thighs twitching, little involuntary whimpers slipping past your lips despite your best efforts to choke them back.

He didn’t so much earn your climax as drag it out of you, piece by fractured piece, broken moan by stuttering convulsion. Your hands shot to his head, fingers soon knotted through messy white hair, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t seem to mind, his attention devoted entirely to spreading open your cunt and milking your chest dry even as the last of the aftershocks faded and the first pangs of overstimulation began to set in. When he did pull away from you, it was with an exaggerated smack of his lips, a teasing nudge of the heel of his palm against your clit, a cocky smirk that reminded you of the expression Megumi would sometimes draw onto his doodled stick figures as they were hit with simplistic, two-dimensional cars or torn apart by black and white wolves. That was something you’d meant to bring up during your conversation with Satoru – Megumi’s tendency towards more violent forms of creativity, how it could be an early sign of emotional unrest in children too young to properly express themselves. Now, you could only wonder why he didn’t draw Satoru more often.

You were barely conscious by the time he drew back working one arm under your back and another under the bend of your knees. You let your eyes fall shut and, by the time you found the strength to open them again, you were on your back, dark satin sheets underneath you and Satoru above, snowy hair providing a much-appreciated barrier between you and those terrible eyes. This time, you couldn’t stop yourself from meeting his prying gaze, and he welcomed your bleary stare, drinking you in for one second, then another, before dipping that much lower and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss was surprisingly gentle – all slow tenderness and delicate warmth. Your mind flitted back to dark eyes and pitch-black hair, pointed teeth and deceiving smiles and you willed yourself not to think at all.

You heard fabric shift, felt his hands curl around your thighs. With an aching sort of slowness, he pushed your knees into your chest, leaving you spread open and vulnerable below him. You felt the head of his cock press against your slick entrance, heard a raspy groan trickle past his lips as he thrust into you – bottoming out in the same stroke.

He didn’t wait for you to adjust to his size. With his face buried in the crook of your neck, he rutted into you with short, brutal thrusts; never pulling out of you entirely, never happy unless his cock was abusing the deepest pocket of your wet heat. Immediately, it was overwhelming – too much stimulation being forced onto you too quickly with too little preparation. Your hands fell to his back, your nails biting into his skin as he fucked into you with a jagged kind of desperation. His cock scraped against something soft and spongy inside of you and you cried out, arching against him. “I can’t— It hurts, Gojo, slow—”

“C’mon, baby, you can do better than that.” His voice was low, airy. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the corner of your jaw, rolled his hips and pressed himself that much deeper into you. “What’s my name? Who’s takin' care of you from now on?”

It was more an act of desperation than anything; a broken plea that you could barely recognize as your own voice. “Daddy,” you sobbed, shrinking against him. “Please, don’t cum insi—”

You were cut off by an unabashed moan, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you. His hips pressed into yours, his thrusts growing shorter, more violent as he pumped something warm and awful into your pussy. At the same time, his thumb found your clit, pushing harsh circles into the vulnerable bundle of nerves and bringing your exhausted body to its second climax. Your vision burnt white as your cunt clenched around him, as his thrusts turned labored and languid, as collapsed against you – limp and boneless. Idly, almost lovingly, he nuzzled into the side of your neck, letting several seconds pass in silence before sighing, the pinnacle of satisfaction. Eventually, he picked himself up, resting his weight on his elbows as he cupped your face. “Pretty girl. I think the brat’s got a crush on you, too – always going on about his favorite teacher, telling me to keep my dirty hands away from you.” He laughed, shook his head. “Think he’ll be excited to have a younger sister?”

You didn’t answer, but Satoru didn’t need you to. He was already picking himself up, already pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck as he straightened his back, staring down at you with eyes that must’ve gone lifeless years ago. Eyes that, despite your best efforts to ignore their similarities, you couldn’t help but feel that you’d seen before.

“Speaking of, I think it’s about time we checked on our baby girl.”

~

Less than an hour later, you found yourself in your makeshift nursery; the corner of your bedroom occupied by a crib and a few shelves of miscellaneous supplies. You sat on the foot of your bed as Satoru held your daughter in his arms, rocking her as she sniffled and threatened to cry. You’d taken a taxi back to your apartment – called up and paid for by Satoru, of course. He’d given the driver your address before you so could so much as process where he was taking you, something you were currently choosing to ignore.

“She looks just like him.” His tone was light, his smile soft. He gestured to your daughter’s curly tufts of dark hair, her brown eyes – both only a shade away from black. “It’ll get worse as she grows up. He was always like that – couldn’t stand to let anyone else be the center of attention.”

You felt sick. Black spots still danced in the corners of your vision, and it took all your strength just to choke something coherent out. “He’ll never meet her. I’d die before I ever let him put his hands on my daughter.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He flashed you a grin, then turned back to your daughter. “I’m gonna keep both of you safe, be such a good daddy to both my pretty girls.” He pulled her that much closer to him, pressing a ginger kiss into her forehead. “You know, you really gotta open up more. I tried as hard as I could, but I don’t think I ever managed to catch her name.”

That made sense. You tended not to use it, when you could help it, when you were strong enough not to think about the man who’d given it to her – the man who’d tried to take yours, before you’d gotten away from him and and his monsters. You weren’t feeling very strong right now, though.

“Himari,” you mumbled, the sound of it alone still enough to steal the air out of your lungs, to leave the taste of blood heavy on your tongue.

“Geto Himari.”

[f1fantasys]

uhm so i have an idea where Lando is working out alone to release his emotions, perhaps after a bad day or bad race. but suddenly, you enter the gym, which annoys him because he wanted to be alone right now.

however, as you start working out, he kinda ogling your 🍒 and eventually decides to approach you to talk and that led to the spicy part when he starts touching you and fucked you on one of the bench using you to let out his anger 🫣 tysm!!!

THIS!! I don't feel like I've done this INCREDIBLE request justice. So someone please write a better one and tag me in it! @ccsainzleclerc5516 you would do amazing at this!

POST RACE WORKOUT

Warnings - smut!! need i say more?

2.4 words. IDK why it's so short - feel like i have writers block.

The Monaco weekend was always a fun one. Fun, but extremely busy, especially being a Sky presenter. From the Monday leading up to the weekend you'd been in and out of meetings, events, and not to mention recording and being live on air for several hours a day. But you loved it, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

But now that the race and post-race shows were finally over, you still had a lot of adrenaline and energy to burn, which is why you currently found yourself walking up the stairs to the gym, wearing the tightest tights and a sports bra. It was well past midnight, but, having connections had its perks, so here you were.

You pushed open the door and stopped in your tracks. There was some distant music playing and as your eyes scanned the room you definitely weren't expecting to find Lando Norris who was currently lifting weights, shirtless, might I add. He stopped what he was doing and stood up, eyes shamelessly searching your body, but an annoyed look on his face.

''Uh, hey'' you greeted.

All he did was nod his head.

''You good?'' you couldn't help but ask at the way he was looking at you. You felt you own cheeks heat up as you gawked at his body that was riled with sweat.

''Yeah'' was all he said as he turned around and continued what he was doing.

You of course have had a lot of interaction with Lando - several interviews and social media videos which meant you'd spent quite a lot of time with him. Obviously, he was one hell of hot man, and yes, you looked, but you'd never touch. Your work was too important to get involved with any of the drivers. You'd also noticed him looking more often than not, but you never allowed your mind to go there.

As you stood there for a few minutes you couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. He'd had a shitty race - mclaren had fucked his strategy, once again, and he didn't get the win. So you totally understood why he was in the gym at the time - also trying to get rid of the adrenaline.

You dragged your feet to the treadmill and hopped on, setting a medium pace, trying to focus on something else and not the half naked man across the room.

After about 15 minutes you slowed your pace down a bit, grabbing your towel to wipe the sheet of sweat over your face and arms. As you walked over to do some weights, you looked ahead in the mirror and locked eyes with Lando. He was standing drinking his water, and you watched as his eyes left yours and shamelessly looked your body up and down again. To be fair - you were swearing the skimpiest gym clothes which left nothing to the imagination.

What you didn't know was that Lando had been eye fucking you the full 15 minutes you were running. He had wanted to be alone, let out his frustration, but that changed the minute he realized it was you who walked through the door. He licked his lips as he saw how your tights wrapped around your ass so perfectly, how your boobs were bouncing and threatening to spill out of your bra, how you back muscles flexed as you ran, and how sweat covered your body making you glisten under the lights. Lando had always found you attractive to say the least, and now he was painfully hard by just watching you workout. He wanted nothing more than to walk up to you and rip your clothes off, bend you over, and rail into you.

You tried your best to ignore him and focus on your task, so you sat on the bench and started brench pressing, heavy breaths leaving your mouth.

Suddenly, you saw Lando standing above you, staring down, and his own breathing just as heavy as yours.

Before you could react and say anything, he held onto the weights and pryed it out of your hands.

''Lan-'' you started, but he cut you off.

''Shh'' you said, before walking around and facing you as you sat up. He took a seat in front of you, legs on either side of the bench as yours were.

You swore you heart was beating out of your chest right now. He looked so heavenly. Bright green eyes, curls messy and sticking to his forehead. And not to mention his god-damn beautiful torso. Muscles taught and defined, with sweat dripping down, his own body shining in the lights.

''Eyes up here'' he said, smirking, catching you out for staring.

''Fuck'' you mumbled to yourself, before you looked up at him.

You felt as his hands found your waist and effortlessly slid you closer to him, and now your breaths were mingling, the heat in your body rising.

As you found yourselves in an apparent staring contest, Lando's hands started roaming your body He traced your arms up and down, your shoulders, you back, and your breath hitched as he suddenly slipped them under your sports bra, feeling up your boobs and fondling with them.

You closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing, but that was impossible with the fact that he was sitting right in front of you and touching you. Now he was rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling at and tugging them, earning himself a moan from you.

''Lando'' you panted, needing more, almost grinding yourself on the bench.

''I know baby''

The nickname gave you goosebumps, and you couldn't help but open your eyes and smile at him.

Soon after, Lando tore your bra off of you, revealing your perky boobs. He lowered his head and latched his mouth onto your left nipple. Biting and sucking on it before using his tongue to sooth over.

Your hands found his hair and you pulled at his curls, edging him on, begging him some more. ''Lando, please'' you said, grinding down on the bench harder than before.

He lifted his head and crashed his lips to yours. It was eager and messy, tongues clashing and spit sliding down both yours and Lando's chin. He bit on your lower lip and you felt him slide his hands through your tights to grope at your ass. By now you were cupping his face, pulling him impossibly closer. While his one hand stayed on your ass, the other slid round to your front and cupped your cunt.

The action has you arching off the bench, breath increasing ever so much as he slid his fingers through your folds, which were soaking by now - something that didn't go unnoticed by him.

''Already dripping for me, love?'' he asked, voice thick and hoarse with his British accent.

''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say, biting your lips at the feeling of his calloused fingers rough against your clit, which he found rather quickly.

He captured your lips with his as he thrust two fingers through your entrance, the swift movement making you tremble in his arms.

''Ride my fingers y/n'' he said between breaths.

And so you did, you rode his fingers hard and fast, and just as he curled them at just the right time, feeling you soft cushiony spot inside of you, you felt a warmth begin to build in your stomach.

No word spoken and Lando added a third finger, sending you trembling over the edge as you latched onto his shoulder for support to ride you through your orgasm.

He slowed his fingers, eyes never leaving yours, before pulling them out and shamelessly licking them clean of you cum, moaning at the taste.

''Hmm, so fucking delicious'''he said, smirking, as you watched, mouth agape.

''Lando please'' you panted. ''Need to feel you in me'' you said, looking at him with longing eyes.

When you looked at him again, his whole demeanor changed. His eyes became ridiculously darker and the emotion he wore on his face was a mix of sudden anger and frustration.

He didn't say anything. Instead, he man handled you to lay down before he ripped your tights off of you and stood up to free himself of his constraints.

You watched as his hard cock bounced first then stood tall and angry.

''Fuck, he's big'' you thought to yourself as he placed himself between your legs.

Lando leaned down to kiss you as you took him in your hands and pumped him a few times, using your thumb to spread his pre cum around his tip.

The movement had him bucking forward, grunting into your mouth.

He pulled back and looked you in the eyes. ''You sure?'' he asked.

''Please. Please fuck me''

He lined himself up and wasted no time in slamming into you, bottoming out in one thrust.

''Shit'' you gasped. He was definitely the biggest you'd ever had, and the sting was intense. But this was Lando Norris, and you were determined to let him have his way with you.

He finally started moving, setting a pace that had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails dug deep into his skin.

''So fucking tight, fuck y/n''

''Oh, Lando, yes, please, yes'' you cried out, unable to keep your moans at bay.

Lando continued to fuck into you while his mouth found your boobs and sucked hard at them, surely leaving purple bruises for tomorrow.

Within minutes you could feel your walls begin to clench around him, your orgasm approaching fast.

''Fuck, gonna cum Lan-'' you started but before you could finish he pulled out. You whined at him, an annoyed whine which you knew would edge him on further.

He scooped you up with such an ease, and suddenly you were flipped over and on your tummy, Lando sliding into your cunt with force again.

He bunched up your hair and pulled it tight, earning pornographic moans from your mouth straight to his ear.

''Can't win a fucking race but at least I got you begging for me'' he said through bated breaths, finally railing you the way he wanted from when you first walked in.

''Fuck Lando, you won. You won for me'' you moaned. You didn't care what the outcome of the actual race was - in your eyes, he was always a winner.

''Doing so well for me babygirl. That's tight.''

This time your orgasm gave you no warning. Hearing him call you babygirl pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering underneath him and your juices spluttering all over.

You moaned his name as you came, and if anything, he sped up his movements briefly before sliding out of you again.

This time he sat facing the mirror and pulled you up to sit down his lap, facing the mirror as well.

You immediately sank down on his now throbbing dick, setting a harsh pace as his hand snaked its way around you and settled on your throat.

''Want you to watch yourself fuck me'' he roughly whispered in your ear.

You kept your eyes on each other while you rode him, Lando's occasionally dropping down to watch how your boobs bounced up and down with each thrust.

''Fuck'' you hissed as you felt another orgasm approaching.

''Fucking me so good baby, go on. Be my slut'' he urged you to carry on.

Your movements were becoming sloppier, unable to hold yourself up and able to continue to thrust so Lando had to take matters into his own hands.

He was now fucking into you again, but at a relentless pace, clearly chasing his own orgasm as well.

''Together, yeah?'' he asked, his hand sliding down to toy at your clit.

You couldn't hold it in anymore. ''Fuck, Lando, now. I need to cum'' you said, as you felt his cock twitching inside of you.

The room now filled with grunts and moans, swear words flying everywhere as you both reached your climax, juices spilling out of you like the end of the worlds. Lando made sure to empty his load painting your walls white with his warm splutter.

You sank back down on him, letting your weight fall back leaning on him.

You locked eyes in the mirror again, both trying to catch your breaths, sweat dripping down the both of you.

Now that he got his release, Lando couldn't help but feel ashamed at the fact that he used you. Although this was the best sex he'd had in a long time, he felt he needed to apologize, and hope he hadn't fucked up a chance at anything more.

You could feel him softening inside of you, but neither made any attempt to move.

''Lan-''

''Wait. Fuck. I'm sorry if I was too rough'' he said, shyly.

''What?''

''I'm sorry i called you a slut. It was a complement, actually. I just had all this adrenaline from the race. And you were there. And...Fuck, i couldn't help myself'' he was rambling.

''Lando stop.'' you said firmer than you intended to. ''I didn't say I didn't enjoy it. Did I?'' you asked.

He shook his head.

''Really, it was so fucking good, and I'm glad it was me. I'm glad you used me''

''I-What?''

''Yeah, think I needed it as much as you did'' you said.

He wrapped his arms around you holding you tighter.

''Well then I'm glad you walked through the door. Thank you'' he cooed.

You smiled at him and slowly got up, letting him slip out of you, when something dawned on you.

''You ripped my clothes, Lando! literally'' you shrieked, eyes wide and a chuckle filling the air.

He stood up and pecked your lips.

''Well then, you'll just have to come home with me'' he said, smirking, but throwing his t-shirt to you to wear.

As he watching you put it on, he couldn't help but notice the stickiness dripping out of you.

''Fuck'' he mumbled, more to himself.

''What?'' you asked, as you didn't even release he was still watching you.

He didn't say anything, instead he bent down and licked your core, collecting the mixture of both of your cum.

The action had your breath hitching, not expecting it at all. You held onto his head as he did what he did, before he stood back up and let the juice slide out of his mouth and into your, before he kissed you roughly again.

''So fucking hot. Round 2 at mines?'' he asked.

You just smiled and walked to the door, opening it while gesturing him to follow you out.

REMEMBER - requests are open!

[clare-875]

Bare Skin (Zoro x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Zoro x Female Reader Summary: As crew members get tired of Zoro's disregard for hygiene, they call on the one person who can get him to bathe: you. Warnings: fluff, soft Zoro, nudity, suggestive towards the end A/N: Short Fic <3 [One Piece Masterlist] _____

The sun was high in the sky and you were busy in your room, doing the things you barely had time to do these past few weeks, but someone was discontent and so they had interrupted your alone time. "Come on, [y/n], you know it's getting bad." You turn to Nami who has a frown on her face, irritation lacing with despair in her eyes. You laugh softly at her distress. She had been in your room for a while now, exclaiming about how your boyfriend is refusing to bathe, but you turn away in dismissal. "It's not that bad." Nami is quick to shake her head. "Love has clearly made you blind [y/n]. Please, I'm begging you. It's been days." You let her try to convince you a bit more and you feel yourself relenting. Maybe she was right. Your boyfriend works out for most of the day and sleeps every other hour. You hadn't minded too much knowing how much he hates to bathe, but you could understand why Nami might be desperate for your help. "Fine, okay, I'll go." You smile as she hugs you out of thanks and you let her lead you out of your room.

As soon as you make it to the deck, Nami makes a beeline for your boyfriend who sleeps among the rowdy crew. "Oi, Zoro!" She doesn't hesitate as she thwacks him on the head, causing him to groan as he wakes, looking at the Navigator like she is mad. "Have you lost your mind?!" He grunts as he grasps his head now harbouring a lump thanks to Nami, but she doesn't stop. "It's time..." She puts on a scary expression that has Zoro confused and slightly disturbed. "[y/n]!" She calls for you to approach and you do, meeting your boyfriend's questioning gaze. As you get closer, you see what Nami means when she says he needs a bath, his musk filling your senses as you get close; his scent amplified by his disregard. You scrunch up your nose but laugh. "Come on, Zoro, let's go bathe." He stares at you once and blinks, registering your words before turning to Nami in irritation who has a shit-eating grin on her face. Zoro groans before turning to you, but you see his eyes soften slightly and he takes your hand in his.

He can’t say no to you.

By the time he stands, the crew has all looked on silently at the sudden commotion surrounding the three of you, and now they gape in wonderment as you drag the swordsman away from the deck. Luffy, Ussop and Chopper are in shock at how your mere word can get him to break, whilst Sanji starts crying to the heavens. "Stupid Marimo, why does he get to bathe with [y/n]-san! It's not fair!" You let an amused smile reach your face as you hear the faint voices of the stunned crew. You feel Zoro's arms start to wrap themselves around your waist encasing you as you trudge along. You look upward in his arms, adoring the softer side of him that breaks free when in his still-sleepy state. He looks down at you, stifling a yawn, and quirking his eyebrows upwards in question but you have reached the bathroom before you can say anything.

Instantly your hands move to his pants as he is already shirtless and you tug them gently prompting him to take them off. You do the same, pulling your shirt over your head and removing the rest of your clothes. Throughout, Zoro looks to your figure appreciatively, adoring every curve and edge, every length of your bare skin. When you are finally free of your clothes, Zoro encases you again in his arms, and there is the mere intimacy of holding your lover for a moment. When you move to the shower, Zoro walks behind you, pushing his nose into the crook of your neck and making you sigh contentedly. "Zoro," you murmur, causing him to look up and grunt in question. You laugh softly at his minimal response but guide his arms away from you and turn the shower on. "Sit down," your soft words reach his ears as he takes his place on the seat placed conveniently near the shower. You start to rub the shampoo in your hands before entangling them with his hair, massaging the soapy mixture into his scalp. Zoro hums in deep contentment, causing your lips to upturn again.

The next few moments are shrouded in the familiarity of washing his hair, and your hands that travel around him in gentle movements. Zoro adored the feeling you ignited in him as he felt your touch, treating him so carefully despite his strong build and rough demeanour. Once you are done washing him, he returns the favour, switching positions as he places products in his hands. He watches your contentment carefully as he massages your scalp, and moves to your skin soon after. He feels the smoothness of your form, and he treats you like porcelain as you treasure the feeling of his strong hands travelling around you. When he is done, you stand as he guides you to the bath, the both of you easing into the warm water and sighing as you feel it take away the strain of your muscles. Zoro moves closer to you, and despite the warmth of the bath, his skin ignites heat on your body. You look up, only to see his eyes are already on you.

Your gaze can't help but travel his form then; well-built muscles gleaming under the sheen of the water, the scent of soap latched onto his skin. When you gaze upward towards his face again you see the wide smirk at your travelling eyes, but it doesn't hide the fact that he admires you too. "Z-Zoro," your voice cuts off as he suddenly pulls you into his lap and you feel him nosing your skin again as he murmurs your name. He places soft kisses that travel amongst your skin and your collarbone and you can't help but let out a sigh that has him smiling against you. His hands travel further along your skin, tracing curves and gently squeezing your soft flesh. You gasp as you feel him against you, turning to him as he still bears that wide smirk on his face. "Zoro, not now." You say, despite your smile making its way into your words or not stopping the hands that travel amongst you. "But now is the best time to do it, sweetheart." His voice is a deep rumble and his hands don't give way. You feel yourself relent as you turn in his hold and press your lips against him, in a hot and heated kiss.

Zoro found himself not minding a more frequent bath, along as it was with you.

[junovrsmp4]

one of the girls

part 1. the arrangement

Chris Sturniolo was bad news. You knew it, every girl within a 100 mile radius knew it. Your own brother had warned you to stay away from him, despite being his best friend. That didn’t stop you from wanting him though.

pairing: chris x reader

pt.1 summary: despite all the warnings, and his reputation, you're intrigued by chris. on your 18th birthday, u find out exactly why he's bad news. and like a drug, u get addicted to him. cue, the arrangement

warnings: ABSOLUTE FILTH, very very plot heavy, rough sex, oral, choking, slapping, over-stimulation, mild bdsm, p in v, degradation, slight age gap (reader is 16 and chris is 18 when they first start fooling around, reader is 18 and chris is 20 when they first have penetrative sex)

word count: 6.9K (lmao i think this is going to be a thing)

author's note: so, i found out as i was writing this that @worldlxvlys has a fic with a very similar premise because its inspired by the same song, check it out if u havent already, its so fucking good

It had started out innocently enough.

Chris was your older brother’s best friend, so naturally he was always over at your house or your brother over at his. You remember the first time you’d seen him, sitting on your living room couch, dressed in a black t-shirt and denim shorts, sporting a silver chain. You’d just run down the stairs, yelling for your brother to order you some food when you spotted him. The shock of seeing a complete stranger- a hot one, at that- had you stopping dead in your tracks. You remember how you’d just stared at him like an idiot, before turning around and sprinting back up to your room. You cringe a little, every time you think back to that moment, how you’d been dressed that night, in one of your old sports bras and baggy shorts, your hair an absolute mess.

Awkward first meeting aside, you got to know him, little by little. Sometimes, through little anecdotes reluctantly shared by your brother at your behest, and sometimes, from the man himself. Every time he came over, you’d make excuses to be around him and your brother, and you remember how he’d always smile at you, include you in conversations even when your brother would groan on about how annoying you were being and try to push you back to your room.

So of course, you developed a crush on him.

As a thirteen year old, you would make up cute little scenarios in your head of how you might confess your crush to Chris, and maybe he’d tell you he always liked you too, or maybe, maybe he’d be the one to confess first, with a bashful, awkward smile, and you’d become boyfriend and girlfriend and live happily ever after.

It didn’t take long for you to get over your little fantasies though.

While it hadn’t been obvious to you at thirteen, as you grew older, you witnessed the whirlwind that was Chris Sturniolo, the guy who got every girl’s attention, showed them a good time, and then left them in the dust when he got bored, before moving onto the next.

Your brother, bless his soul, did warn you to stay away from Chris. Had tried multiple times, to tell you how much of a player he was, how he just had a rotation of girls ready to go, and was always looking for someone new to ruin.

“He’s no good,” he’d said. “He’s my best friend, and he’s like a brother to me, but I wouldn’t trust him around you, alone.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that then?” you’d asked.

Your brother hadn’t been able to give you an answer then.

Knowing what you did about Chris didn’t get rid of your interest in him though. You’d long since let go of the silly fantasy of being his girlfriend. It had been a childhood delusion and nothing more, but you still found him…intriguing. The way he commanded every room he walked in, the way every girl around him fell to their knees to be able to service him in some way, the way guys hung around him in hopes of having his appeal somehow rub off on them, it fascinated you.

Even more fascinating was how Chris seemed to be so obviously putting up some sort of front. There was an edge to the cool, suave persona he seemed to be parading in for everyone else.

For every person who told you to stay far, far away from Chris, all they did was stoke the little part of you that wanted to see just what he was really like.

Besides, we all know what they say about curious cats; curiosity may kill them, but satisfaction definitely brings them back.

-------------------------------------

The party was already in full swing by the time you’d made it through the front door. The entire house was lit with flashing lights, bright and blinding, the music so loud it seemed like it almost thrummed straight through the bodies that surrounded you, almost consuming you and swallowing you into the heart of the party.

A party to celebrate the end of an era, and you turning eighteen.

You hadn’t wanted anything crazy, but trust your friends to go behind your back to plan something big.

“It isn’t just your birthday, ya know?” they’d said. “We’re finally done with high school!”

It seemed like they’d invited everyone who was anyone in your town, because you don’t even recognize some of the people at the party. Friends of friends of friends, and so on, you guess. Some were your seniors in high school, who had graduated way before you and your friends. It helped that your birthday and graduation coincided with summer break, because it meant a lot of the older kids were back from college for the holidays, which guaranteed the presence of more…discreet party favors.

The air was thick with smoke, from weed, tobacco, and god knows what else, the humidity only amplifying the feeling of breathlessness you feel every time you’re in a big crowd. You spot your brother and his group of friends huddled together, taking up a section of one of the big couches, all of them nursing beer bottles. All except one.

Chris’ eyes are on you the minute you step through the crowd. Unlike all the other guys sitting beside him, he opted out of drinking, and was instead smoking a joint, plumes of smoke slightly obscuring his face. He looked relaxed, leaned back with one arm stretched over the top of the couch, legs spread out. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you see the way he glides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting into it. Your breath catches in your throat when he slightly shifts his hips, his eyes flitting down and then back up at you, like he’s silently asking you to go sit on his lap. You almost go over to him, slightly swaying on your feet, before you remember where you are and who’s sitting right next to him. You stand there long enough to see some other girl swoop in and plant herself on his thigh, looping her arms around his neck and leaning close to whisper in his ear.

Your brother spots you just then, and you make a show of pointing a thumb at Chris and rolling your eyes, like you’re not desperately wishing it was you that was on Chris’ lap, before making your way to the make-shift drink station that had been set up on the dinner table, where you find Matt fixing drinks for his friends and himself.

“Hey kid,” he drawls out, bobbing his head to the music, and swaying slightly as he pours drinks for the people around him. “Happy birthday!”

His outburst has everyone nearby yelling out their own wishes, and you thank everyone, accepting side hugs and shoulder pats from a bunch of them. One of them even comments on your outfit, telling you that you looked sexy and asking if you wanted to ‘hang out’ with him for a bit, with a waggle of his eyebrows.

You look down at yourself, flattening your palms over the black mini skirt you were wearing, the length, obscenely short. You’d paired it with a black bralette, a cropped mesh top with a watercolor wine print and platform ankle boots. Your friends had helped you with your hair and makeup, and you knew you looked really fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

You yell out a quick thanks but decline the offer to hang out, before asking the Matt to pour you a drink. You can still feel Chris staring, but you don’t dare look back, because looking back would mean giving in to him. Not yet.

You had a game to play after all.

-------------------------------------

Funnily enough, the game between you and Chris had started with a literal game. Specifically, his last lacrosse game for Sommerville High.

You usually didn’t care to go to school events, especially to watch a bunch of people play a sport that you didn’t understand, but it was also your brother’s last game that he’d be playing for your high school, so you’d gone to show your support. Your parents had been there too, and they’d taken a seat next to Chris’ family.

“Oh, this is such a bittersweet moment, isn’t it?” you hear Mary Lou ask your mom, who nods solemnly. They strike up a conversation about their kids, how they grow up oh so fast. It’s funny watching them lean over to talk to each other while Nick sits between them, looking bored out of his mind.

He catches your eye and breaks out into a grin, before politely asking your mom if she’d like to switch seats with him, which she excitedly accepts.

“Never thought I’d see you at one of these,” Nick comments as he looks down at the field, eyes searching for his brothers, you assume. “Want some?”

He’s got a bag of popcorn that he tips your way, and you thank him before grabbing a handful. You make idle conversation for a while, mostly about how he, his brothers and your brother would be graduating soon, and about your classes. You avoid the topic of the triplets ever-growing YouTube channel; you don’t need Nick knowing you obsessively watch every video of theirs.

Nick was a welcome presence; where his brother Chris managed to put you on edge and make you feel hyperaware of his presence, Nick was comforting, grounding.

As disinterested as you are in sports, the energy of the field gets to you eventually, your eyes tracking the same three players, 3, 4, 15, Chris, Matt, your brother, over and over, while listening to Nick chime in occasionally about the score. You have enough awareness to pick up on the energy of the crowd, and it looked like the Sommerville players were doing really fucking well. You watch your brother and Matt make a couple of saves, and Chris going full offense by scoring a bunch of points for the team, all while clutching onto Nick as the two of you cheer each time.

It’s down to the last few minutes of the game, and you watch with bated breath as both teams turn the ball over to score a point or stop the other from scoring.

“Wait, what’s going on?” you ask Nick. With only two minutes left, you notice all the players running to the edge of the field and forming team huddles.

“Timeout,” Nick says before taking a sip of his drink. “Coaches probably want to discuss final strategies with the team, but it won’t make much of a difference at this point. We’re winning this thing!”

“Oh, I see…” you mutter, and your eyes gravitate towards player number 3. You can’t see much of Chris’s face from this distance, but you watch as he swings an arm over your brother’s shoulder. His head tips upward slightly, and for a second, you almost feel like he’s looking right up at you, but that would be crazy.

The game is back on, and you watch as your brother immediately springs into action, trying to get the ball that one of the players on the rival team had managed to grab. A shrill whistle blows, and Nick winces beside you.

“Shit- what’s wrong?”

“Your brother just got a foul, kid,” Nick says with a shake of his head. “He was playing really well though, damn.”

One last minute. You watch as the Sommerville team expertly passes the ball around, going back and forth between a bunch of the guys as the other team tries to bat it from them. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath when you see Chris has the ball now, and with just a few seconds left on the clock, he makes the last score of the game, and the crowd goes fucking wild.

Everything else was a blur after. You remember being ushered onto the field by Nick, your parents joining you as the players all took pictures together, as a team, with their families. You remember seeing Chris’ eyes widen as he took in your presence, before quickly flashing you his signature smirk.

“Look who decided to finally show up for a school game!” he’d said, arms cross over his chest, and you’d remember feeling small under his gaze, holding onto to Nick’s arm to hold back from flinging yourself at him in front of all these people, in front of your family.

The next few minutes had been spent taking pictures, and there was a particular moment when both your mother and Mary Lou had asked for a big group photo, and that’s how you found yourself pressed up between Chris and your brother, who had his arm slung over your shoulder. You still remember the way Chris’ fingers brushed against yours, your breath catching in your throat when, in an extremely bold move, considering you were with your families, he’d linked his pinky with yours.

That’s how it had started. Looks exchanged across rooms, stolen touches hidden from everyone else’s eyes. A pull and push, a game of who’d break first. It was like something that emboldened Chris that day of the game, and he’d test the limits to what you’d allow him to do to you. The goal for him seemed to be to get you to let down the invisible guard you’d put up whenever he was around, to get you to admit something even you weren’t aware of. Your goal was to get your fill of Chris in hopes of satiating whatever curiosity and hunger you had for him before you had to watch him with some other girl as soon as he got bored with you.

There were nights after that game when he’d come over to your house to hang out with your brother when Chris would sneak into your room, under the pretense of going to the bathroom or to grab a snack.

It was during those nights that you’d exchange rushed, heated kisses, Chris grabbing onto your waist while you clutched at his shoulders, pulling him close before quickly pushing him away, breathless. He’d swipe his tongue across his bottom lip before sinking his teeth into it, fighting back the grin that threatened to take over his face.

“Go out with me,” Chris had asked one night, leaning against your dresser and fiddling with the rings you’d left there from earlier that day.

“No, Chris,” you had replied, already back to reading the book he’d pushed out of the way when he’d crawled over you to kiss you. You tried to ignore the way your lips feel swollen and bruised from where he’d bitten them.

“I don't know why you’re playing so hard to get,” he said with her arms crossed over this chest, his lips quirked up in his signature smirk. “You clearly want me- why not date me?”

You can't help but let out a chuckle at that.

“What?”

“Everyone and their mother knows you’re not the dating kind, Chris” you said, with a tight smile. “You’re going to bail the minute it gets too real, before going with one of the other girls in your roster.”

The silence that follows makes you look up from your book, and Chris is watching you with a look you can’t comprehend.

“Touché. So you’re good with being one of my girls then? I just don’t want you to come crying to me later saying you were hoping I’d be your boyfriend or some shit.”

You roll your eyes, hating the way his words made you feel. It was pathetic, chasing after crumbs, knowing you wouldn’t get anything more. You knew what you were getting into, and you weren’t expecting anything more. but it still made you feel like a fool.

“By the way,” Chris begins to speak, arms crossed tightly across his chest, his shoulders stiff. “The only reason I bail-” he says the word with a harsh tone you’d never heard from him before, “-is because all of you seem to have already set your minds on being with me for one thing, and one thing only. Not that I’m too mad about it.”

He’s scowling now, and you see the muscles in his jaw flex, like he’s gritting his teeth. He was definitely mad, about what exactly, you weren’t so sure.

“What do you mean?” you’d asked, but Chris was already walking out of your room.

You’d spent the rest of the night wondering what had gotten Chris angry. There was a part of you, the one that really, really enjoyed Chris’ attention, that was worried you’d pushed him away, but a bigger part of you wondered if this was for the best. You’d gotten more than you’d ever imagined from him, and it was probably best to leave it at this before you ended up getting swept up in…him.

It didn't matter in the end, because that same night, after making a show of leaving out the front door to go back home, he’d snuck back into your room through your window and spent an hour leaving harsh kisses and bites on your lips, your neck and your collarbones.

He was clearly taking out his frustration from earlier on you, his fingers gripping at your waist and thighs as he pressed your body down onto your bed with this own.

He took, and took. Took your breath away with his kisses, took your wrists in his hands, grip tight as he held them down on either side of your head, all while laying claim on you and your body. Just like you wanted him to.

Realizations were made that night, because as soon as Chris had gotten his fill and left, you’d made yourself cum, over and over, as you imagined him being rougher with you, laying his claim on you with harsher, more painful touches to your body.

-------------------------------------

Parties like these really weren’t your scene, but you did enjoy being a fly on the wall, observing all the people around. Drunk teens and young adults giving into more baser instincts, their judgement clouded by the various substances they’d consumed. Some were loud and brazen, engaging in risqué activities right where everyone could see them, some hidden in dark corners, making out with each other.

You’re still nursing your first drink, letting it pull you into a tipsy haze, and you vaguely register the guy standing beside you talking about something you had absolutely no interest in. He’s got one arm against the wall as he leans into your personal space, his lips close to your ear as he speaks, to make sure you can hear him over the loud music. You let out noncommittal hums and nod occasionally to seem like you’re listening, but your eyes are trained on Chris and the girl who’s currently sitting on his lap, a different girl from the one you saw when you first walked in, grinding down on him.

Just as Chris turns his head in your direction, you turn your head towards the guy next to you, bringing your free hand to his and pulling it to rest on your waist. You smile up at him and laugh at a joke he’d just made, something incredibly unfunny and slightly problematic even, before telling him you were going to go grab another drink.

You head into the kitchen, where you get pulled into a conversation with a couple of your former classmates. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Chris slip into the kitchen as well, before he squeezes past you. What no one sees is the way his hand lingers on your lower back as he moves past, dipping low to grab your ass, before quickly moving to the group of people that were also in the room, slinging his arms over the shoulders of two guys before delving into a loud discussion about this seasons lacrosse game.

Heat blooms across your face, and you bite your lower lip to keep from shouting across the kitchen at Chris to just fuck you already, because that wasn’t the plan. You had to have more control than that now, because this was the only time you’d have it tonight.

Your mind wanders back to the several texts you’d exchanged with Chris over the years, after you’d first started your…dalliance with him. They were sparse, you mostly kept your conversations minimal over text, but there had been one night last year, when you hadn’t been able to sleep and had found yourself sending the one text you thought you’d never send to Chris.

> i need something

You’d immediately regretted it. You thought you’d worded it in such a way that you could pass it off, pretend it didn’t happen, or that it was meant for someone else, but you knew Chris would be able to tell exactly what you meant. He would be able to figure out everything you’d thought of him since the past year, every dirty thought, every horny fantasy you’ve had since you first started letting him kiss and touch you, only ever with your clothes on, nothing that progressed past heavily making out and groping each other, leaving you panting and breathless, and him hard.

It was 2 a.m. on a Thursday night and your text could only mean one thing.

You’d put your phone down, trying to go to sleep, hoping that, come morning, if Chris did reply to you, you could pretend you had sent it by mistake, but the anxiousness you felt made you pick your phone back up, and you saw it, the three dots that meant Chris was typing a response.

> U need to go to sleep

That would have been the responsible thing to do. You imagined being bolder, but you were only sixteen, and you had no experience flirting with guys, especially with guys like Chris, so you’d sent off a quick text apologizing, and telling him it was meant for someone else.

> Is that true? Who was it meant for?

> goodnight chris

> Tell me who

> no

> Need is a strong word, almost sounded like u wanted some late night lovin’

You don’t think, you couldn’t think, not with the way your blood rushing in your ears makes you feel slightly faint, and before you know it, you reply with-

> well i feel strongly about it

> Strong feelings can be dangerous

> i want something dangerous

You were being honest. Chris was dangerous. This was dangerous.

> Want? Or need?

> need

There was a long pause, no ellipses indicating Chris was texting back, and for a moment, you think he’d abandoned you, that he was probably texting the many other, more experienced, girls he could be with.

> Dont fall asleep yet. I’ll be there in a bit.

> okay

> So the text WAS meant for me then

> shut up

> :P

The abrupt shift in tone of the conversation had made you giggle a bit, but you remember how you’d waited with bated breath for Chris to show up outside your window, before letting him into your room.

Chris had spent those early morning hours teasing you with his mouth and hands, whispering dirty little things into your ears, coaxing your needs out of you, demanding you tell him exactly what you meant with that text, with one hand wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel breathless but not take away your ability to breathe, because you told him you wanted it, while the other one dipped down into your underwear.

You’re so fucking responsive, even to the slightest touch, he’d said. Everyone thinks you’re such a good girl, but here you are, sneaking around with your brother’s best friend, what would everyone think?

You’d let your body melt under his touch, letting him envelope you with his touch, his words, his scent.

I think about how you’d look with my cock inside you. I think about tasting you. I think about holding you down and fucking you until you can’t hold back your sweet little moans. God, you’re so fucking desperate for my dick, aren’t you?

And you were, you really fucking were, because no matter how much you pretended to be unfazed by him and his touch, the truth of the matter was, every moment you spent with him was followed by you locked up in your room with your fingers desperately pumping in and out of you, imagining how he would fuck you if you actually let him, how he’d open you up and push his dick into you, how you’d be so full of him.

That was the first night he’d touched you, really touched you, the first night you’d cum from fingers that weren’t your own.

A loud laugh accompanied by a friendly slap on the shoulder pulls you out of your thoughts, and you let out a weak chuckle as your friends remark on how out of it you seem, even though you’ve only had one drink. You look up to see Chris looking back at you over his shoulder, and when you meet his eyes, he jerks his head up slightly, and you know exactly what he’s trying to indicate.

Come upstairs.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head as imperceptibly as you can, even though you’re going to do exactly what he wanted, and you see how it gets him excited, because Chris liked being teased, liked how you played so hard to get, and you loved playing it up, acting all coy and innocent when both of you knew otherwise.

You tell your friends you need some fresh air, but instead of making your way out to the backyard, you slowly make your way upstairs, pushing past people and hoping to all powers above that there was at least one room that wasn’t occupied.

You take your time checking every room on the floor, opening doors to people in various stages of undress, quickly yelling out apologies before moving to the next, until finally, you come to a door furthest from the stairs leading up to the floor. It was quieter here, the music from downstairs was almost muffled. You press an ear to the door, and when you don’t hear any noises from the other side, you excitedly turn the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.

Locked. Fuck.

Just as you’re about to turn away, you feel a presence right behind you, the heat of a body. The strong scent of weed washes over you as hands come up to rest on your hips, before warm lips brush over the shell of your ear.

“Look what we have here,” Chris whispers in a teasing tone, sending a tingle up your spine, making your skin break out in goosebumps. You shiver slightly as his arms encircle you, before he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at the door knob.

“It’s locked,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

“I know,” he mumbles, before holding out one of his hands, and you see a set of keys.

“Go on,” Chris says, nuzzling into your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your burning hot skin. You quickly grab the keys and fumble with the lock as Chris’ hands wander down between your thighs, grabbing onto them as he presses into you from behind. You feel his length, not hard yet, but still hard to ignore, and the possibilities of how tonight is going to go has your head reeling.

You finally get the door open, and you stumble inside, Chris not far behind. You watch as he grabs the key out of the lock, before following you in and locking the door from inside this time.

You have half the mind to ask him how he got the keys to the door, how he thought of keeping it locked, but all that goes out of your head when he swivels you around and pushes you up against the wall, one hand cradling your head as his lips descend on yours. His fingers grip the hair at the base of your neck and pull, making your head tip back and you gasp as both pain and pleasure bloom and settle low in your stomach, your thighs clenching, and he takes that as invitation to lick his way into your mouth, his tongue fighting and very quickly winning for dominance. Your knees almost buckle from the intensity of it all, from just how turned on you are.

Here you were, with Chris Sturniolo, your brother’s best friend, pulling at your hair, grabbing you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips and thighs by morning. It was a heady feeling, being wanted, and being wanted by Chris was like experiencing the best high from the best drugs.

Chris lets go of your hair to grab onto your hips, pulling your waist away from the wall and grinding you against him, like you were just here to help him get off, and it still surprises you, how much it turns you on. The thought of being just a body to be used, a body that Chris owns and controls.

Your hands find purchase in his hair as you gasp under the assault of his mouth on yours, his teeth biting into your lower lip and pulling, before going back to twisting his tongue with yours. It’s a messy kiss, rough and just painful enough that it has you wet and dripping. You feel the way your underwear sticks to your folds, and the patheticness of your own arousal turns you on even more.

Chris’s hands snake up your stomach under your top, making it bunch up right below your neck. His gaze is heated as his eyes rove over your body, before he’s pulling your bralette down, and the fabric of it bunches up tight below your breasts, pushing them up further into Chris’ face. He takes no time before licking and sucking on your nipples, groaning as he grinds his growing erection against your thigh.

“Chris- please, please-” you whine, body writhing under his attention, hips bucking as you try and find some relief.

“Stay still,” Chris says, and it almost sounds like a growl, which has the opposite effect to what was intended. Your moans get louder and he bites your nipple, your chest arching off the wall.

Chris straightens up, one of his hands coming up to smack you on the cheek before grabbing you by the chin, forcing your head back against the wall.

“Stay. Still.”

The slap had been more shocking than painful, but it still turns you on, just how rough Chris is being with you right now, and you think about how much rougher you hope it gets.

Chris peers down at you, his grip on your chin relentless. “Will you stay still and quiet?”

You nod against his grip, teeth sinking into your lower lip to hold back a whine.

“Good girl,” he says, thumb stroking your lips before pushing into your mouth. You instantly wrap your lips around it, tongue laving at the tip of it before sucking it deeper into your mouth. You see Chris’ pupils dilate as he watches you, mouth falling open slightly as he heaves deep breaths in and out.

“Take off your panties,” he says as he pulls his thumb away, swiping it over your nipple. He chuckles as you jerk away from the cold, wet touch. His fingers flutter over your skin as you quickly shove your underwear down your legs, and you think about kicking them away, but Chris holds out his hand.

Oh.

You hand over your underwear, soaked from your arousal, to Chris, who pockets it with a smirk.

“Hm, good girl,” Chris mutters, before patting the side of your leg. “Spread your legs.”

You peer up at him through your eyelashes as you spread your legs apart and the cold air in the room hits your heated core, making you quiver.

Chris doesn’t take his time. His body presses up against you as he brings a hand up your skirt and to your core, two fingers sweeping through your folds to gather the wetness that was dripping out of you before pumping them in and out of you, each thrust of his fingers punching a gasp out of you.

The room fills with the wet, obscene sounds of Chris’ fingers squelching in and out of you, and he adds a third finger, twisting and spreading them inside you to stretch you out.

“Fuck, Chris, I need you-” you moan, your hips rolling and pushing down to meet Chris’ fingers. You bare your throat to him as he presses his nose to the spot under your ear, his teeth scraping down your throat. His fingers continue pumping into you, pressing repeatedly at the spongy bundle of nerves that had you clenching around them, and that’s how he gives you your first orgasm of the night.

“You’re such a slut for me, aren’t you?” Chris asks, nipping at your jaw. “Look at how fucking wet you are.”

He steps back and holds up his fingers, glistening from the wetness, and spreads them apart, and you see the strings of your fluids clinging between his fingers, some of it dripping down onto his palm. Your breath catches in your throat when Chris brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on them and moaning at your taste. He’d done this before, when he’d fingered you, and it made you squirm each time, seeing this visual confirmation that he enjoyed your taste.

Your eyes flick down to Chris’ crotch, where you see the clear outline of his hard dick, and you realize that this is the first time you’re actually going to have a dick inside you. You remember the first time you’d seen it when you’d asked him if you could suck him off, and he’d had you kneel for him, before pulling it out of his sweatpants and feeding it into your mouth, guiding your head up and down his length, before he’d eventually just jerked off and cum all over your face.

You watch him as he pulls it out now, and you can’t explain how oddly attractive his penis is. You didn’t think you’d find a penis attractive, but Chris’ was. It was long and thick, but not too thick, and it curved slightly to the left. It was ruddy now, from all the blood that had rushed down to it and the head of his dick glistened from the precum that was beading and dripping out of his slit. Chris wraps his hand around it, stroking it slowly to gather his precum and slick it up.

You make a move to step towards him, thinking he’ll move things to the bed, but Chris grabs your hips and turns you to face the wall before lining his body against yours, pushing you into the wall, with your face turned sideways, your cheek pressed down against the cold surface. You hear the telltale sounds of a condom wrapper being torn open and rubber being stretched over skin.

You look back at Chris, eyebrows furrowing, as he hikes your skirt up your ass, lining his cock up against you and grinding it between your cheeks.

“You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Chris whispers in your ear, his hand coming up to circle your throat, pushing up to tip your head against his shoulder. You feel his other hand reach down between the two of you, before guiding his dick into you, and your eyes flutter close when the tip slides through your folds to push into you, stretching you. Chris keeps his grip on your throat tight, and braces his other arm against the wall right beside your head.

Your body opens up for him, accepting him into you, as Chris sets a brutal pace, his dick driving in and out of you, leaving you breathless.

“Chris- oh god, f-fuck, ngh-” you whimper, your hands scrambling to grab onto him, one hand clutching at his bicep, while the other comes up to grip the wrist of the hand that is squeezing your throat. “Harder, please- fuck, fuck, fuck- choke me harder-”

“Such a fucking slut, what would everyone think if they knew you were up here begging me to choke you, huh?” Chris rasps out against your temple. “What would your brother think?”

You clench around him, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he continues restricting your airflow, arousal and shame making your blood run hot in equal measure.

“You love being split open on my cock, don’t ya? Your pussy is fucking dripping around it,” he grunts, punctuating his words with harder thrusts into you, the head of his dick hitting the bundle of nerves that has you seeing stars.

“Yes, yes, yes-” you chant, legs quivering as you gush around Chris’ dick. “I’m gonna cum-”

“Yeah? Cum on my dick, c’mon,” Chris rasps, the hand that was braced against the wall moving to rub against your clit, making you buck up against him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight still.”

His fingers rub furious circles over your clit, which has you clenching rhythmically around him, and it doesn’t take long before you cum around Chris’ cock, the force of your orgasm wracking through your body and making you quiver violently.

Chris keeps thrusting into you, chasing his own orgasm, and you’re hit with that thought again, of being owned and controlled by Chris, because it was the truth, wasn’t it? He hadn’t even bothered to get either of you fully undressed, hadn’t taken you to bed, because you were just a means to a satisfying end, a warm body that accepted his rough, painful, attention.

And you loved it.

All you hear are the sounds of skin slapping skin and Chris’ grunts and moans over your own punched out whimpers, and now Chris has both his hands on your hips, gripping them hard as he pulls you back onto his dick, his blunt nails digging into your skin and leaving a delicious burn. You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually Chris comes with a muffled cry, biting into your clothed shoulder as he fills the condom.

“Fuck,” you breath out, slumping forward against the wall, wincing when Chris pulls out, before bringing two fingers up to glide through your folds, still wet, but now also puffy and raw from the constant rubbing.

Chris guides you towards the bed, and you hold onto him because your legs won’t stop shaking. He helps you fix your clothes, pulling your bralette and top back down your torso and smoothing your skirt down your thighs. He tucks his dick back into his pants before disappearing out of the room with the used, and now tied-up, condom in hand.

You sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and out of breath still, and Chris comes back a few seconds later with a wet towel which he gently swipes between your legs, while kneeling before you, letting out a chuckle and a sheepish ‘sorry’ when you wince and jerk away from the cold and rough towel.

Chris stands back up, and goes to say something when his phone buzzes. He looks down at it, letting out a low whistle at whatever message he’d just received.

“I’ve gotta go,” Chris says, his thumbs flying over his keyboard as he types out messages.

“One of your girls?”

“Huh? Yeah,” Chris says distractedly, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You going to be okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Alright, happy birthday again” Chris says, bending forward to place a quick kiss to your cheek before patting the top of your head and leaving.

You flopped back onto the bed, sighing as you push your hair out of your face, your legs rubbing together to try and warm yourself up in the now too-cold room. And it was only then that you realize that Chris had left with your underwear.

Fuck.

> you have my underwear asshole

His reply came much later that night, after you’d already gotten home, using a pair of cycling shorts you’d snagged from the closet in the room Chris had left you in and bunching them up under your skirt to make do as underwear for the rest of the night.

> Oops

read part 2. here

author’s note: idek if i like this one y'all (: likes, comments and reblogs r much appreciated <3

taglist 🩵 (comment on my pinned post to be added or removed):

@luverboychris @bigbeefybitch @liz-stxrn @slut4chriss @slut4mattsturnio1o @sturniolosgirl @coochiedestroyer1 @cutiepiess4l @kvtie44 @vschrissturn @hercigaretteblush @fwskullz @m4rriii @anabanana28 @sturniolosange1 @webbersturn @odeezier @johnniesrealwife @freshsturns @marlenafortuna @carolineheartsmatthew @incndescentglow @starniolosposts @urfavgirllyyyyy @mattsturniolosworld @lilyloveschris @sturniozo @lookingformyromeo @heartss4matthewq @lanasturniolo @zina25sworld @ezziewinchester @s-s-842 @sturnlova @whyarefictionalmennotreal @55sturn @cheetahmadi @sturniolowhore @cupidsword @sturnsblog @lovehoneygirll @breeloveschris @littlemisswhore @worldlxvlys @sturniolo04 @sturnioloco @littlemisswhore @pandacake128 @chrizznmetswife

[thehighladywrites]

you’re just like me

pairing: cassian x crazy stalker reader

summary: cassian thinks of you as his insanely obsessive ex girlfriend who’s downright crazy. you are obviously cassian’s one true love and will eliminate anything that stands in your way.

warnings: murder, dark romance, cheeky little twist👀, stalking, obsessive behavior, sexual content, knives, nasty sex, um also a sick way of getting off just downright crazy, description of murder… um this is just kinda dark. two psychos encouraging each other

amara’s note: so i might be making this into a series bc i have an amazing idea for azriel next😫😫😫 also guys this was a lil dark lol

You couldn’t understand how Cassian had the nerve to walk away from you. There was absolutely nothing wrong with you, not one single thing. People just didn’t get it; love was supposed to be all-consuming, right? Obsession wasn’t a flaw. It was just proof you cared deeply. So what if you knew his schedule down to the minute, memorized the exact scent of his shampoo, or followed him everywhere he went like your very existence depended on it? That wasn’t weird, it was love. Real, burning, raw love.

Cassian must have been confused, that’s all. Poor thing, probably led astray by some outside influence. Maybe someone whispered lies into his ear or cast some strange spell over his mind. Yeah, that had to be it, because Cassian did love you. He did. He just needed to wake up and realize it again.

And when he did , he’d thank you for never letting go, for being the one person who truly saw him, who loved him without limits.

Seeing Cassian sitting next to some water-wraith makes your heart pound harder and harder, fury bubbling under your skin. That’s it — that’s why he hasn’t been his usual self. That wretched wraith is manipulating him, filling his head with filthy lies about you. Poisoning what was meant to be perfect.

You have to stop this. You have to save him. And the only way to do that is to get rid of her. Permanently.

Your hands itch for action, and you’re already stepping forward when a hand clamps around your wrist.

“Are you about to go over to Cassian?” Feyre’s calm voice cuts through your haze of rage. “Don’t cause a scene.”

You tilt your head, offering her a polite smile. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply going to claim what is rightfully mine.”

You tug at her grip, but it holds firm. Feyre’s eyes narrow. “Not so fast. You know Cassian will think you’re crazy if you kill her right here and now.”

Your breath catches. How the hell did she know? Were you that obvious?

Before you can respond, she steps closer, her intoxicating perfume filling your senses. Her voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine.

“If you want that little whore gone, gut her like a fucking fish. I’ll even help you. But not now, it’ll look bad for us.”

Your eyes widen slightly. Never in a million years would you have expected Feyre to suggest murder.

“Why are you so interested in me killing her?” you ask, voice curious.

A wicked smile curls at her lips before she presses a quick kiss to your cheek. “That little bitch tried to fuck Rhys right in front of me. Didn’t even bother pretending she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t care. And now I want her gone.”

Her voice cracks with a manic edge before she smooths it over, composure snapping neatly back into place.

She was just like you, a comfort you took pleasure in, someone who understood that love was meant to be fierce, consuming, and without limits.

—

You did exactly what Feyre suggested — waited until the big meeting with all the courts had ended, biding your time until the wraith was on her way back to Spring. She was alone, vulnerable, just as you had hoped.

Before she could winnow away, you struck. Kidnapping her had been easy, far too easy. And then came the best part: stabbing her over and over until you were drenched in her warm blood. Her look of terror sent a sick thrill down your spine, flipping your stomach in delight. Fuck, it felt good to finally get rid of her. Like being on edge for an eternity and finally getting the sweet, blissful relief you'd craved.

You cleaned up meticulously, disposing of every shred of evidence. No one would ever find her.

Winnowing back to Velaris, you appeared just outside Cassian’s house, dagger still in hand. Breaking in through your usual route was second nature by now. You settled yourself on his sofa, waiting patiently like you always did when he needed a gentle reminder of who truly belonged to him.

The door creaked open, and Cassian trudged inside, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. Normally, you'd feel a pang of sympathy for how hard he worked — how much he gave of himself. But not tonight. Tonight, you were kinda pissed.

His eyes flicked toward you, squinting in the dim light. He hesitated, unsure of who he was looking at until he flipped the lights on.

The color drained from his face as he stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock. “What the hell?” His voice wavered. “What are you doing here?”

You tilted your head, offering a sweet, unwavering smile. “Hi, Cassian. Done being a manwhore? Ready to come back to your senses?”

His gaze darted to the blood soaking your clothes, the gleaming dagger in your hand. He shook his head in disbelief, taking another step back, as if distance could protect him from you.

“I said, what are you doing here?” His voice hardens, sharp and commanding.

Yours matches his, cold and steady. “Well, since you seem to be under some delusion that you can get away from me, I figured I’d burst your little bubble and remind you that’s not the case.”

A calm smile spreads across your lips as you lift the dagger, pointing it directly at him. The weight of it feels right in your hand, steady and sure.

Cassian’s chest rises and falls as tension coils through the room. “You’re insane,” he mutters, disbelief lacing every word.

“Call it what you want. Call it love, call it obsession. Call me fucking insane,” you say, taking a slow step forward. “But you belong to me, Cassian. Always have. Always will.”

You shake your head and laugh, a hollow, unsettling sound. “Gods, Cassian. I don't know why you're doing this to me. Stop being so damn difficult and realize there's no one else for you. That water-wraith slut sure knows it now.”

His face goes pale, a hand pressing against his chest. “W-what are you talking about? You... you killed her?” he asks, horrified.

“Sure did.” You smile sweetly, tilting your head. “And I'll end anyone you think can take my place. Am I clear? Either you realize it now, or I keep killing people. It's all up to you.” You shrug nonchalantly, inspecting your nails as if this conversation were about the weather.

There's a long silence, thick with tension, and then something changes.

His voice drops, lower and rougher. “Took you long enough.”

Your head snaps up, eyes narrowing in confusion. His pale, horrified expression has melted away, replaced by something darker, more primal. His eyes gleam with something unholy, and his mouth twists into a cruel, wicked smile.

“Was wondering when you’d kill that little wraith,” he says smoothly, his voice dripping with amusement. “Gods know it was hard feigning interest.”

A warmth spreads through your chest, almost dizzying. Was this a dream? No way. Cassian matching your intensity, your madness — that was only supposed to happen in fantasies.

“What?” you whisper, barely believing what you’re hearing.

He steps closer, eyes gleaming darkly. “Didn’t think I noticed your stalking? Or the way you conveniently disposed of anyone I talked to?” His smirk widens, sharp and dangerous. “The way you just happened to show up at places I had scheduled? I’ve been onto you since day one.”

Your breath catches, heart thundering. “And?”

“And I knew you were the one the day you snuck into my room and stared at me, thinking I didn’t know,” he murmurs, eyes burning into yours with dark satisfaction.

A shiver runs down your spine, both thrilled and unhinged by his words. “You knew?”

He leans in closer, voice low and possessive. “Of course I knew. Your heavy breathing was a dead giveaway, sweetheart. You looked like you were seconds away from crawling into bed with me.”

You grin, eyes gleaming with madness. “I almost did.”

And it was true. He had been shirtless, skin smooth and golden in the moonlight, hair tied back so his sharp, handsome features were perfectly highlighted. Only years of discipline had kept you rooted to the spot instead of crawling into bed with him like you’d wanted to.

His smile deepens, dark and taunting. “You should’ve.” He steps closer, voice dropping to a low, sinful whisper. “Not the Gods themselves could have pulled me away.”

Your pulse races, wild and electric. This was so not fucking happening. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m not tempting you, my love.” he says, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “I’m inviting you.”

He looks down at you, hands settling on your hips as he pulls you so close. Cassian’s heat makes your brain go fuzzy and for a moment you’re lost. Just as he is about to kiss you…

”Wait. So you felt the same I did? Why did you act all high and mighty when you’re literally worse than me?” You step back and raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed over your chest.

Cassian blinks, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst, but instead of guilt or surprise softening his expression, something darker gleams in his eyes — intrigue, even delight. “You’re mad at me, baby?”

“Of course I’m mad!” you snap, practically vibrating with frustration. “You knew I’m bsessed with you, and instead of saying anything, you just sat there, playing with me, making me feel insane.”

Your grip on the dagger tightens in pure frustration. “Do you know how many nights I spent plotting ways to keep you? How much blood I spilled thinking you didn’t care?”

His lips twitch, eyes filled with dark amusement.

“You could’ve just matched my crazy from day one, but nooo, you had to be all stoic and mysterious. Gods, Cassian, that’s infuriating.”

He steps closer, his voice low and dangerous. “You’re adorable when you’re pissed off, ya know? A cute, hotheaded little thing.”

“Adorable? I should stab you,” you snarl, but he only grins wider.

“Do it,” he whispers, his voice dripping with challenge. “I’d love to see what happens next.”

Your breath catches, heart racing as his words sink in. Cassian wasn’t just tolerating your madness, he wanted it, thrived on it, matched it beat for beat.

The realization sends a dizzy thrill through you, but you pout anyway, refusing to let him off the hook that easily. “You’re the worst,” you grumble, turning your head away with a dramatic huff.

He chuckles darkly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “I was only interesed in seeing how far you’d go. Didn’t know if you’d run for the hills when I told you I murdered Helion’s advicer for looking at you yesterday.”

Your heart skips a beat, then thunders wildly in your chest. A sharp, wicked grin tugs at your lips despite yourself. “You did that?”

“Snapped his neck right before breakfast. Or did I feed him his own fingers then strangle him with his insides? Can’t say I remember.”

A sick thrill courses through you. Man, he was fucking perfect. It was so fucking wrong but your knees went weak and you started throbbing. He killed someone just for staring at you?

That was actually hot.

—

With no surprise, cassian fucked you for so long, so hard so fucking deep. It was so nasty, a reaaaal mess. one hand of his grabs onto your thigh, another gripping your waist while he’s glancing down at your sloppy cunt, what a masterpiece. Cassian decided he needed to see better so he pulled out as you whimpered pathetically.

his fingers smear his oozing cum all over you, from the slit all the way to your, swollen, throbbing clit.

“look at you makin’ a damn mess.” Your shaky hands gripping his wide shoulders start to slip. His arm tightens around your waist before you fall backwards. “fuckkkk, baby, look at how good your pussy was takin’ me, see how fucking wet she is?” you shudder as his fingers go knuckle deep into your cunt, giving you a few pumps before he pulls it right out, stringy wetness coating them.

he places two thick fingers inside of your mouth, you suck them clean whilst still moving against him, silently pleading for him to fill you out.

“shiiit, not fair. you got these killer hips that’ll dumb down any man.” Cassian finally fills you up again, his fat cock gliding against ypur wall just right. “oh-fuckkkk thaaat’s it, slow baby. slow, fuck me good, yeah?”

Cassian’s breath hitches as you tighten around him, his arm hurling behind the headboard. the desperation of having something to hold on to gives you an ego boost. was your just pussy too damn good?

“c-cas,” you moan, feeling his big fingers stroke their way against your waist to the very undersides of your thighs. you made sure to go slow, slow and steady just like he wanted. cassian’s got a sleazy grin, feeling the wetness of your cunt take him with all its might. “g-gonna cum!”

“i can tell, ah shit— you’re squeezin’ the fuck outta me,” He grunts in response as he feels you writhing, groaning at the gummy texture of your walls mightily gripping around him tight.

But it’s not enough. The rush lingers, addictive and gnawing, and you want more — need more. Something to cling to, something to burn into your memory for the rest of the week. A painfully sweet reminder of just how far you’ll both go for each other.

Your lips curl into a sly smile, voice dropping into a breathy tease. Finally, you’d lock in one last time to see if he was really as crazy as you. “Do you want to know,” You pause, your breath hitching in pleasure, “how it felt to kill t-that wraith?”

Cassian’s entire body tenses, his pupils dilating as a spark of something wild flickers in his eyes. His pulse kicks up, thrumming like a war drum. Fuck yeah, he wanted to know. Every sickening, twisted detail. Morality be damned—this was love.

“Tell me,” he demands, voice low and raw, filled with a dark hunger.

You grin wickedly, savoring his reaction. “It was beautiful,” you whimper, letting the memory flood your senses. “The way her breath hitched when she realized she was going to die? Gods, Cassian, it was intoxicating. She looked so helpless.”

His breath shudders as he pumps harder, his voice gravelly. “What did you feel?”

A dark satisfaction blooms in your chest. “Relief,” you murmur. “Pure relief. Like I’d been waiting forever and I was free.”

Cassian’s eyes burn into yours, his lips curling into a slow, dangerous smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers. “Absolutely perfect. Absolutely mine.”

Your heart races as you lean in, lips hovering near his ear. “Next time,” you purr, “I’ll let you watch then fuck me right there.”

That’s it. Those few sadistic words are all the power he needs to finish you both off.

“you’re a nasty fucking girl—ughhhh.”

his speed had the bed creaking louder, and cassian’s grunting in your ear was getting louder as you were feeling fuller than ever. with hot pounds of skin against skin roughly slapping against each other after each second, the two of you felt the same pangs of pleasure and fervent dizziness. “inside, cas—fuck, cum inside me!” before an inevitable flood of heavenly pleasure consumes you both.

your cunt throbs the second he spills an entire whopping load inside of you raw, and you nuzzle your face into his neck. “cas—,” you stammer, and your walls were oh so greedy, adjusting to the way your pussy convulses around him, sharp nails dragging over his back. you both cum together as a surge of electricity pulses through each of your veins.

“fuck… ya better take every drop, s-shit,” he groans before slumping back against the headboard, tugging you closer so your face rests on his neck.

This was absolutely perfect. Cassian was yours now—forever. He could never leave you. And if he tried? You wouldn’t just kill him; you’d burn the entire world down with him. If you couldn’t have him, no one could. He simply wouldn’t exist without you.

That was love.

And Cassian being utterly, unapologetically insane? A gift wrapped in chaos. He understood you better than anyone ever could. Maybe you’d push him, see just how far that darkness in him stretched. Because Cassian didn’t get jealous—he got even. He got murderous.

“I love you, Cassian. So, so much,” you sob into his neck, your body trembling under the weight of the confession.

“I know you do,” he rasps, his voice rough as he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around your shivering form. His strong arms envelop you completely, his touch obsessive, possessive. His hand trails down your hair and back with agonizing tenderness as though memorizing every inch of you.

But something gnaws at you—a flicker of unease. Why wasn’t he saying it back? Did he need more proof that you were his literal wife(even if he didn’t know it yet), his reason for fucking breathing?

As if sensing your doubt, his grip tightens, pulling you even closer until you could hear the rapid, frantic beat of his heart. His lips brush against your ear, his voice low and raw, trembling with emotion.

“There are no words for what I feel for you,” he says, voice breaking. “Love is too weak, too pitiful. What I feel for you—gods, it devours me whole. It’s a sickness, an obsession that digs its claws into me and never lets go. You are everything. My breath, my blood, my madness.”

His words crash over you, wild and terrifying and utterly beautiful. And you know—he belongs to you as much as you belong to him.

Always.

[kawhh]

I'm aware I'm gonna lose people with this but I really do need to get the thought out of my head (I'm being delusional and this'll make it worse). It's just Jack and blood does something to me. Something magical. Also for the dark!Jack askers.

1.7k words.

Warnings!!!: if you're squeamish, please don't read this. I mean it. There's a lot of blood talk. Him covering you in it. Biting. Me going insane. Being a whore on main. Somnophilia. Jack being feral. If the idea of period sex makes you go ew, this'll make you worse. Him not caring if you don't want him marking you.

You've been worried about him since he got hit - knowing how bad some high stick injuries can be. Stressing until he was shown on the bench, barely calming down seeing all the blood still covering his face. How casual he is about it, not being phased at all, making no effort to wipe it off.

How aggressively he's playing after it, there's more aggression in him when he takes face offs. There's more push behind his skates up and down the ice. More concentration on his bloodied face.

If you're being honest, the whole thing is incredibly hot. Even though there's an underlying beat of concern. You don't like seeing him hurt.

It's late at night, so you're cuddled up on the couch in one of his shirts. Always feels like he's home with you when you're bundled up in his scent.

It's too much for him when he gets home. It's like someone's sucked all the air out of the room. His knuckles white as snow from his grip on the door frame. He doesn't dare move. Feeling like he's one step away from losing any and all sanity that he has left.

His girl.. all perfect.

His shirt on you.. how small you look in it. It's physically stunned him.

He can feel the blood on his face still. He was in too much of a rush to get home to you, he wouldn't take the time to wipe it off. He wasn't wasting time showering. Not when he knows you're all alone at home. He's not phased by it, just slowly dragging his tongue over his lip to prevent it from getting out of control.

He's no stranger to blood in his mouth. Injuries are common and he can't just stop whenever it happens.

He figures you're asleep. Who knows how long he's just been stuck there, trying to piece together the non feral part of his brain. You haven't made any noise, haven't reacted to him coming home.

He's free to just.. observe.

He's salivating over your legs. They look so pure and untouched, unmarked, oh so long looking under the shirt. Fuck.. he doesn't know what he wants first.

He could have them wrapped around his waist, have you scratching your own marks into his back as he fucks you into the wall. Wanting to see the pathetically adorable tears streak down your face until you get noise complaints.

Have you bouncing on his dick, slamming you down to force you to go at his pace, forcing you back down to meet his savage thrusts even if you try and crawl off to escape.

Wrapping them around his head, forcing them tighter against his head, wanting to suffocate against your cunt. Feeling you cry and squirm against him, trying to escape his tongue.

How pretty he'd paint you with the blood that's still leaking from his mouth. What a perfect way to make a point.. show you how much you truly belong to him. It'd stand out so vividly against your skin.. against your cute little cunt.

It's enough to take the final sanity percentage from him. He can't stay here watching you from afar now. He's gone too deep. The chances of him walking by you to shower before coming back.. non existent.

He's like a possessed animal stalking towards you, hair loose, half covering his face. His expression dark, his eyes barely visible. His pupils fully dilated.

If he doesn't get his mouth on you and in you, he thinks he might lose it. He can't even wait for you to stir. He doesn't have the restraint. Doesn't fucking want the restraint.

He's hovering over you before he can even process it, grabbing your legs as gently as he physically can in his state, making room for himself to kneel between them on the couch. Leaning over to hover over your face, staring at how innocent you look under him.

His baby must've stayed up late worrying yourself to sleep, he knows how you get.

His fingers not being able to resist digging into your shoulders, staring at the way that your body doesn't resist him. The slight bruises he leaves, painting you. The way you almost lean into his touch in your sleep, seemingly seconds away from mewling like a cat.

He can't resist pulling your shirt up. He can't get it fully off without waking you up, but he inches it towards your neck as gently as he can. Restraining you slightly as it reaches armpit height.

He's slightly startled as he hears a small sound, like a droplet. Looking down, realizing that some of the blood from his mouth is smack bang in the middle of your exposed chest now. Trailing it with his eyes as it slides down your cleavage, under your bra, leaving a skin stain as it goes.

He can't stop the gulp, processing how it feels to see him on you, in such a different way..

There's nothing more him than his blood. It's so striking against your skin. He can't explain the sudden urge he has to follow it with his tongue. To cover you in him.

He makes a fatal mistake, resting his head against your shoulder. His attempt to control himself only makes the problem worse as he lifts his head, realizing that you're now covered in his blood, your whole left shoulder looks like a murder scene.

He can't resist licking your skin. Just once. Tasting your skin combined with him. He's never felt this possessive before, never felt more sure in the fact that you're his.

Sinking his teeth gently into the skin, just enough to leave a mark. He doesn't fully know what's wrong with him. This need to just.. mark you up. To mark up every single inch of your skin. You're such a little fucking cute bunny rabbit. So adorably small against him. So weak. So fragile. So his.

He can't stop at just your shoulder. He's inching down, nipping and sucking at your skin, occasionally licking at the blood if it pools too much. Making his way down to your chest, watching the droplets drip down your tits, following the perfect curve, seeping into your bra.

He can't resist running his tongue down your cleavage. Slowly folding the cups over enough to get his hot, wet mouth around your nipple. Biting harshly, eyes flicking up to you as your squirm in your sleep. He wonders if you're dreaming about it. If you can feel his body. If you're mentally aware of how deranged he's feeling tonight.

Squirming more as he reaches your stomach. He half entertains spelling his name on your stomach but he truly doesn't have the patience. He's biting his lip more as he goes, trying to agitate it, getting frustrated that the blood's drying up. He doesn't care if it hurts, how much it stings with every single movement. He'll take care of it later. It's not important.

It does rush him slightly. He can't risk running out of it before he gets to his meal. Skipping mostly past your stomach, dragging his parted mouth down until he reaches his meal. Resting his mouth against your cute underwear. Smirking as he realizes there's adorable little teddies on them. Slowly staining them with blood as he keeps his head still, resting his mouth above your clit. The contrast of the blood and your visible innocence, he could moan.

He's just resting there, breathing you in. He can smell you. Feel the heat coming from your adorable pussy. He can't resist gently biting, mostly gripping your underwear in his teeth, letting it smack back against your clit, hearing you let out the littlest moan. He doesn't care to check if you're waking up now. It's not like he'll stop, even if you do wake up and protest. There's nothing you can do about it.

Nuzzling his nose down where your thigh meets this delicious skin, breathing you in. He can feel the dampness of your pussy smearing on his face as he drags his cheek down. Marking himself up with you.

Biting you in a harsher manner on your inner thighs, feeling how your skin melts like butter at his attack. Smearing you in the blood that's drying up faster now, licking up the arousal that's seeping from your underwear.

His girl loves this so fucking much.. as you should.

The little whimpers you let out.. he can't wait any longer. He's teased himself enough. He can feel the fucking precum soaking his shorts. Hell, it's probably even on your legs at this point. The throbbing is so hard for him to ignore, but you aren't fully claimed yet. He hasn't had his fill of your cunt.

Spinning you slightly, dragging you to the edge of the couch. Sinking to his knees in front of you.

He's ripping your underwear off with his teeth, laughing cruelly as he hears your startled gasp. You're awake now it seems. Maybe you're swearing at him. Maybe you're begging him to stop. Maybe you're moaning. He doesn't care. It's time to eat.

Swiping his tongue all the way from your cute hole to your adorable clit. There's only a faint amount of blood leaking from him now, but it's enough for him to slowly watch it mix with your arousal. Only fueling him more to eat you.

Stretching you apart with his fingers, putting weight behind it to make sure you can't move. Can't protest. Sucking every last drop from you, lapping at you like you're water in an oasis. Feeling you clench. Nipping at your clit, not wanting your body to get used to one sensation.

Thrusting his tongue into your cunt, licking against your walls, wanting to consume you from the source.

He's thrusting slowly against the couch, imagining splitting you open with his cock, mimicking the motions with his tongue. You're spasming around him, he can hear your cries getting louder.

Slowly thrusting in with his finger, adding another soon after. Stretching you open, making room for him to shove his tongue further in along with them.

Feeling your legs shake around his shoulders, restricting his breathing. Cumming in his shorts at you getting off on being claimed.

Pulling back, eyes half lidded, running his eyes over your body. Admiring all of the blood smears and marks on your body. He's never felt so in control. So satiated. So utterly dominant over you. There's no doubting that you're his.

And he hasn't even fucked you yet.

[v1si0n]

ch. 21: hyucks personal issue

It’s two in the morning as Donghyuck thrashes in his bed, pulling and tossing his sheets around to find some form of comfort that would help him sleep. His mind is plagued with thoughts of you and even at this ungodly hour the butterflies in his stomach refuse to settle.

Jisung’s arm draping across his chest snaps him out of his thoughts and he grimaces. He shoves the younger boy aside and slips out of the bed, tip toeing towards the bedroom door before quietly exiting. He walks through the living room and pulls at the sliding doors that lead him to the ocean view balcony.

The sounds of the waves crashing against the shore did little to ease the racing of Donghyuck’s mind. He was in what he could only describe as complete agony, his own thoughts eating at his brain as he stared off into the inky sky.

His mind wanders back to high school, specifically to the time when you had confessed to him and he chuckles to himself. He remembers the glow of your rosy cheeks and the way you nervously tugged at the hem of your knitted sweater. He remembers his heart beating out of his chest and his words being stuck in his throat as you told him you liked him. He winces when he recalls the way your eyes filled with tears when he stood there dumbfounded and unable to speak. He leans against the balcony railing and runs his hands through his hair.

“Is there room for me out here?”

Donghyuck turns his head when he hears your voice behind him, a smile etching itself onto his features when he sees a large blanket swaddling your body. He gestures to the spot next to him and you waddle over. Your eyes glisten as they look out at the view, and his own twinkle with adoration.

“Why are you up?” He asks quietly.

“I don’t know. I’ve been having a hard time sleeping since the whole campus intruder thing,” You confess.

“You should have told me! I could have kept you company,” He frowns.

“I wouldn’t wanna bother you, Hyuck,” You laugh to yourself.

“You wouldn’t be a bother,” He furrows his brows.

You meet his eyes and send him a small smile. A comfortable silence blankets the two of you as you both look out at the ocean, a slight breeze causing Donghyuck to shiver.

“Here,” You open your blanket towards him and he smiles before moving closer to you and wrapping the blanket around himself.

Your arms brush against each other as he adjusts himself and you internally sigh in relief that the dark of the night hides the rose tint on your cheeks.

“Why are you up?” You break the silence.

“Thinking about a lot of things,” He exhales.

“Like what?”

You swear you see the ghost of a smirk on his face and you quirk a brow.

“Feelings, the past, you,” he replies calmly and you tense up beside him.

“Care to elaborate?” You look at him in anticipation.

He lets out a breath as his eyes follow the way the water rolls onto the sand.

“I think,” he pauses and laughs, “I think I might have always had feelings for you.”

You stare at the side of his face, your features twisting in disbelief as he continues to stare out at the ocean.

"Why did you never tell me?"

"It was a personal issue,” he shrugs.

“You having feelings for me kind of also involves me."

He laughs at your statement and you stare at him incredulously, waiting for a response.

“It’s funny, I wasn’t able to tell you back then because I think I just couldn’t…believe it? This sounds so stupid but I just felt—feel…I still feel that it’d be impossible for someone like you to like someone like me,” he looks down and picks at his fingers.

“You say that as if you’re so bad.”

“Come on Y/N. Do you know anyone else who would use “heyyy queen” in a professional setting?”

You both laugh at the memory of his message to Doyoung. The laughter trails off and you both look ahead.

“I also don’t know anyone else who would bring me coffee every morning because they know I don’t sleep well. Or anyone else who would ask their manager to work overtime so I’m not alone during my night shifts.”

He gawks at you, unaware that you had noticed his acts of service that he tried to brush off as coincidences.

“Hyuck.”

“Y/N.”

“You said you think you’ve always had feelings for me right?”

“Correct,” he raises his brow.

“Well,” you sigh, bracing yourself, “I know I’ve always had feelings for you.”

His eyes bulge out of his head and it reminds you of your first encounter with him at the convenience store. You start laughing quietly to yourself at first, but the longer he stayed silent the louder you became.

“Is this…a prank?” He speaks up after what felt like decades of silence.

“What? No. I’m laughing because this is the second time I’ve confessed to you. You’re the only person I’ve confessed to in my entire lifetime,” You manage to breathe out between fits of laughter, and he stares at you with nothing but confusion.

“So you currently like me?” He points at himself as he speaks.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

“You-“

“Yep.”

“Like-“

“Mhm.”

“Me?” His eyebrows are drawn together as he points between you two.

“Yep, that’s about right,” you answer calmly.

“What about Jaehyun? Do you know how much journaling Jaemin made me do just so I could come to terms with the fact that you like him?” He sputters.

“Hyuck, one of the first things Jaehyun knew about me was that I’ve liked you since high school. We got closer because he was trying to help me with you.”

His expression is unreadable for a moment, before his features soften and he seems to melt in relief. He pulls you into his arms and your heart jumps at the sudden contact.

“Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.

“For?”

“Liking me. Waiting for me. All of it,” he confesses as he gently sways you both back and forth.

You both stay like this for a while, neither of you wanting to leave the warmth of the other. It isn’t until your phone buzzes in your pocket do you reluctantly pull away.

“It’s Karina. She’s asking where I am,” You speak quietly as you read the message on your phone.

“You should head back inside then,” he frowns, removing the blanket from his shoulders and wrapping it around you.

“Don’t stay up too late,” you point your finger at him and he nods. “We’ll talk more tomorrow?”

He smiles at you with a nod of reassurance, and you slide the glass door open to leave.

“Oh, and Hyuck?” You turn to him one more time and he raises his eyebrows, prompting you to continue.

You raise yourself onto your tippy toes and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight,” you smile sweetly at his frozen form before walking back into the living room and sliding the door shut.

As you get ready to turn the corner towards your shared room with Karina, you peek over at the balcony one last time to see Donghyuck pumping his fists in the air before clasping them together and staring up at the sky as if talking to God.

You wonder if it would have ever been possible for you to stop liking him.

wc: a little over 1.2k my bad😓

ch. 22: y/nhyuckism

masterlist（＾＿＾）☆

notes: not proofread but i looooove this chapter sm !!! i hope u love it as much as i do my dears

taglist: @dojaejunging @nosungluv @snflwrhaerecs4u @foxy-kitsune @haecnh @jising-jisang-jisung @soobunsbun @bath1lda @haechansbbg @hamjwis @hancafe @wonbin-truther @beomgyusonlywife @sehunniepot @jaeyunluvbot @multifandomania @https-yeonjun @swee7dream @woshixinqgiu @defzcl @heheheeral @meowtella @grassbutneo @beommii @jinostooth

[dimlylittorch]

i am on my knees for this man. and he’s on his knees for me. (this is roughly 5k words)

My Masterlist🌱

Silco x transmasc!reader

small synopsis: reader ends up getting beaten up- bro is NOT happy. Hurt/comfort with some angst, fluffy ending :3

Warnings: very brief mention of SH

You were the one soft thing in his life. The one thing that was untouched by evil, or greed, or hate. When he found you wandering alone around an entrance into the Undercity, he knew from the moment he saw you.. you were different.

You had been giving a homeless person, probably shimmer addicted and dangerous, food. And soft words. And your time. Something he never thought he’d see. Someone so gentle they would think about sewer rats like that. You’d gone so far as to sit next to them, pulling whatever you could out of your bag for them to have. “I’m sorry I don’t have more.” You had said softly, practically sending a shiver up his spine at the time. And then you had offered to bring more tomorrow.

And so, that next day he waited at that entrance. And around that same time, you came back with an extra bag full of food. Good food. Homemade. He watched as you walked along the wall, offering some to anyone who was there. And when you’d reached the entrance.. you saw him.

“Sir?” You’d asked with a soft tone. “Would you like something to eat?”

He could see you were hesitant- as you should be. You’d probably grown up being told of the dangers of the Undercity.. but here you stood, putting yourself in harms way for people who wouldn’t do the same for you.

“Hm.” He had hummed as his eyes trailed over you. “What is it?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

As you stepped closer to him with a shy smile, you opened your bag to show him. “Oh, it’s just muffins. Nothing too special, but I thought they might help.” Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a blueberry muffin wrapped in tissue paper and offered it to him. He stared at your hand for a moment before tentatively taking it from you.

“I see.” He murmured quietly as his eyes meet your own. Stepping into the light, he walked closer to you and kept his gaze on yours. “You’re a pretty little thing.” He mused faintly. “This is a dangerous place, you know.”

When you saw his full face in the light you shrunk back slightly, but only for a moment. Staying still, you look right back up at him, much to his amusement. He didn’t think he remembered a time when someone hadn’t cowered under his gaze. “You don’t seem like the rest of them” you said softly as your eyes scanned over his face.

“Well aren’t you clever” he chuckled faintly. “If any other topsider was this close to my territory.. I fear we’d have a problem.” He murmurs with a small smirk. “But you pose no threat to me, little one.”

“You talk like you’re in charge..” you murmur as you take a step back, eyes glancing over his slender form.

He smirked wider at your words, pulling out a cigar and a lighter. “That’s because I am.” He muses followed by the click of his lighter.

Before he can say anything else, you suddenly pull the cigar out of his hand, leaving him stunned as he looked down at you. “Don’t you know this is bad for you?” You huff as you look up at him with a scolding look. “What kind of leader doesn’t care about his own health?”

He stares down at you completely dumbfounded. The nerve alone.. you threw him for a loop completely. Before he can think he lunges forward to try and grab the cigar, but you quickly move away, a smile forming on your lips. “Hey! No- you’re not getting this back”

Your innocence makes him sick. But your smile makes someone inside of him burn. “You are nothing but a pest” he growls as he stalks towards you.

When you realize how angry he looks you can’t help but laugh as you walk backwards. “I’m trying to save your life here” you grin cheekily as you playfully try to get away from him. Before you know it you’re halfway through the threshold into the Undercity.

When Silco realizes how close you are into the dangers of Zaun he rushes forward, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and pinning you against the stone wall. His breath is heavy as he keeps you there, staring down at you as he collects himself from his anger. “Never.. go in there alone.” He says lowly, a rough growl near your ear. “Do you understand me?”

Your smile had quickly been wiped away when he grabbed you, a surprised sound slipping past your lips when he pinned you against the wall. Looking up at him, you hesitantly nodded your head, your breathing quick and face flushed. “Yes sir” you whispered breathlessly, the tension palpable.

He didn’t even know you.. but he felt protective of you. He felt like you were his. Letting go of your shirt, his eyes softened as he looked down at you and saw how your face was flushed. “Forgive me.” He murmurs faintly, his eyes locked on yours.

Gazing up at him, you couldn’t help but gently reach up to straighten his tie, eyes shifting to the collar of his shirt. His gaze follows your hands, silently watching as you fix his shirt. “You’re okay.” You murmured softly. His heart skipped a beat at your words. You could’ve said ‘it’s okay’.. but you said ‘you’re okay’. Words he hadn’t heard in a long time.

Before you can say anything else he leans forward, hands on either side of you against the wall as his lips meet yours. A small gasp leaves you as he kisses you, but you can’t stop yourself from kissing him back. It only lasted for a few moments before he pulled away begrudgingly. “Come back tomorrow.” He whispered against your ear before he took a step back and left through the threshold, leaving you standing against the wall, his cigar and your muffin left forgotten on the ground.

That was weeks ago. Now he saw you almost daily, insisting that you kept coming back. You could’ve easily denied him- returned home and never came back. But you did. You always came back. Like a moth to a flame.

You made him feel like a teenager again, revitalizing his youth. Before you he couldn’t recall the last time he had been kissed. His scars and power always drove people away, understandably so. It took a silly little topsider like you to see the man he used to be.

Sneaking into his office after meetings, pulling him into random alleyways.. all just for a little time with him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve something like you. He just hoped you would keep coming back like always.

Every day he would wait at the threshold between Piltover and Zaun. He would walk you through the Undercity, bringing you to where he could keep you all for himself. And every day you would show up with a wide smile, just happy to see him.

He always met you around noon, but one day you decided to slip into the Undercity earlier than usual. You knew he had been working hard recently, and you wanted to surprise him. You’d woken up early just to make him a special batch of treats, hoping to cheer him up from his recent stress.

Walking into the Undercity on your own.. the one thing he’d warned you of. You were a big boy- surely you could handle yourself for one day, right? You just had to put your hood up lay low, not drawing any attention to yourself. At least.. that’s what you thought.

You always met him at noon on the dot. For the first time in weeks you weren’t here at the threshold. Silco’s foot began to tap against the pavement with anxiety rising up inside of him. Had you finally figured out the kind of man he was? Made the smart decision to leave him and the Undercity behind?

After waiting for almost an hour he throws his cigar at the ground before turning and heading back into the Undercity. Taking his usual route to his office, he glares at anyone that dares look at him. Needless to say, he was seething. You had this hold on him- and now you were gone? Just like that? He was tempted to send Sevika to find you. But he knew he would look weak.

As he walks down one alleyway in particular, his eyes trail along the different people crouched on the ground, poor and probably shimmer addicted. He scoffs in disgust when he looks over them, seeing people begging for help.. something he swore he’d never do. Before he can turn the corner he catches a glimpse of a familiar colored bag, pausing in his stride as he looks over. That was when his heart stopped.

There you stood, hand and head resting against the dirty stone as you coughed weakly, blood dripping from your mouth. Your knees looked weak, and he could see bruises on your arms starting to form. Before he could say anything, he hears a faint noise slip past your lips. And then a few clear droplets fall onto the pavement. You were crying.

Within a second though, your sadness turned to anger. Pushing off of the wall and kicking a trashcan over, you let out a choked yell. As the volume faded, it turned into a weak sob, followed by you throwing your bag into the alleyway, which made people’s heads turn.

He’d never seen you angry. He’d never seen you cry either. It had only been a few weeks, but he’d started to believe those emotions didn’t even lie within you. He was stunned into silence, his body frozen as his eyes follow your bag before looking back at where you collapsed on the ground.

“Fucking take it” you muttered hoarsely as you wipe your eye with your wrist. “Take it all.” You snap at the people eyeing your bag. “The one thing I needed for myself- you took. Don’t bite the hand that fucking feeds you.” you practically seethe. Even in your injured state- he could feel the anger. He understood it too. The pain of being kind in a world that doesn’t return the same sentiment.

After a few more moments he quickly steps forward, kneeling down and pulling you against him. “What did I say?” He whispers against your ear, but there’s no chastising tone in his voice. Simply guilt that he wasn’t there for you.

You sniffle weakly when you realize it’s him, letting him pull you close. Resting your head on his chest, a soft sigh leaves you. “M’sorry” you whisper weakly. “Just.. wanted to surprise you. But I messed up.”

He sighs softly as he looks over the state of you. You have a black eye and bruises on your arms.. a cut here and there. He hoists you into his arms and stands up, but as he steps away only then does he see the puddle of blood on the ground. His eyes widen and he quickly looks over you, trying to see if it was from you or not. He uses his hand to feel along your back, but only when you cry out does he realize his hand feels warm.. and wet.

Making his way through the streets as fast as he could, he made it back to the last drop, storming in where all of his usual patrons sat. When the doors slam, everyone quickly turns to see Silco standing there with you in his arms and pure rage on his face.

“If I don’t have their heads within twenty four hours” he practically growls as he looks around the room. “I’ll pull every limb from every body in this room. Go.”

Your eyesight grows dim as you feel yourself being set on the couch in his office. You look up slightly to see Sevika standing over you, grabbing a roll of bandages. When you look to the right you see straight out of the door that leads from Silco’s office into the alleyway. You’d never seen him angry. Not like this. He had someone by their collar on their knees, punching them in the face repeatedly before tossing them aside with a yell.

When Sevika turns her back you stand up on shaky legs, walking towards the door the best you can. Managing to reach the doorway, you watch as Silco kicks a trashcan, letting out a yell of frustration. You didn’t know how much time had passed.. but you felt more lightheaded by the second. “Sil?” You say weakly, wishing he would be able to relax. His head snaps around, and when he sees you standing he quickly rushes forward and holds you up.

“Sevika- I told you to watch him!” He snaps as he brings you back over to the couch. Hearing Sevika’s sigh of frustration, you feel tears start to well in your eyes- especially as the shock starts to fade, leaving you with more pain than you’d ever experienced.

When Silco sets you down on the couch and starts to step away, you quickly reach out and grab his arm with a weak yelp of pain. “D-don’t leave me” you choke out as tears start to spill down your cheeks.

He quickly turns when he feels himself pulled back, and when he sees the tears spilling from your eyes his anger starts to mold into concern. He moves to sit next to you on the couch, pulling you into his arms. He positions you so Sevika can see your back where you had a small stab wound- probably from some dirt ridden pocket knife. He seethes at the thought of some low life leaving you in that alley. Wrapping his arms around you, one arm hooked under your own, he holds you as close as he can with your face tucked against his chest and the back of the couch.

“You’re okay” he murmurs softly against your ear, his breathing starting to slow from his previous anger. “Shh, shh..” he says faintly as you cry in his arms. “I’ll never leave.” Hearing a scoff from Sevika, he shoots her a glare. He knew he looked weak- he couldn’t stand it. But the way he felt for you outweighed how others viewed him. Adjusting you slightly so Sevika can treat the wound in your back, she gestures for your shirt to be taken off. He hesitates for only a moment before helping pull your shirt off, tossing the blood stained cloth aside.

Now- you and Silco had been fooling around. But it had never gotten quite this far; shirtless, I mean. Sure, you’d made out every now and then, but he was a busy man.. curling up into him as you tried to hide your embarrassment, you tense as Sevika starts to treat the stab wound. Shaking in Silco’s arms from the pain, you can’t help but cry more. It was embarrassing.. these were two of the most powerful people in the Undercity. And here you sat, crying in front of them like a baby.

Silco could practically read your thoughts when he saw how you curled into yourself. Resting his head against your own, his breath fans out over your ear. “You.. are so strong.” He whispers faintly so only you can hear. When he senses your confusion from his words, he pulls you a little closer. “Any other spoiled Piltover brat would’ve laid down and taken it.” He murmurs softly. “But I can tell you fought. My strong little thing.” He whispers against your skin.

Sighing softly, you relax in his arms slightly. “I made you cupcakes.” You whisper faintly after a few quiet moments.

Silco’s eyebrows quirk up and he looks at Sevika for a moment before looking back down at you. “What?” He questions softly as he brushes a piece of hair off of your forehead.

Sniffing slightly as Sevika tapes down the bandage, you sigh. “I wanted to surprise you.” You whisper quietly, as if embarrassed. “Since you told me you guys don’t.. do birthdays much down here- and you’ve been working so hard.. I guess they thought my bag had money in it. When they realized it was just food they..” you trail off faintly, curling into his chest more. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Silco practically feels his heart break as he listens to your words, looking down at you in disbelief for a few moments. When your wound is patched up well enough he motions for Sevika to leave, who does accordingly. Gently using his finger to lift your chin, he looks down into your tear filled eyes. “I will burn this whole city to the ground if I have to.” He says coldly, and you can tell he meant it. “You will never feel unsafe again. Never. Do you understand me?”

Gazing up at him for a few seconds, you gently nod before tucking your head under his chin. The two of you sat like that for a few minutes before your voice reached his ears. “Maybe I should’ve listened to my parents.” You whispered faintly, your shaking tone indicating how hard it was for you to admit that.

He tensed at your words, his arms tightening around you. He felt how blood rushed through his ears at the thought- the thought of you two never meeting. “No one” he says lowly. “Will take you away from me.” He growled.

You should’ve been scared. His anger should’ve frightened you. But.. you never felt more wanted. Maybe it was problematic- or unhealthy. But you could tell he needed you. Just like you needed him. You had been overlooked your whole life. Or if you were noticed, it was for an achievement. Not for you.

When he realizes what he said, and how it may have come off.. the tension fades from his body. He hugs you closer, his lips against your hair. “Forgive me.” He whispers faintly.

“Do you love me?”

His heart stopped when your words registered, and he swore the air stood still. Sitting up to get a clear look at you, he watches how you tilt your head up towards him, your soft eyes locking on his own. “Love..” he murmurs softly, looking off to the side. “Is a tricky thing.”

Gently leaning up, your lips brush against the underside of his jaw. “I think I might love you.” You murmur softly against his skin. His heart rate quickens at your words, and you can tell how he doesn’t know how to handle it. You’d only know each other for weeks- a few months at the most. Surely stealing a few kisses here and there wasn’t enough to establish love?

“You don’t understand what love is.” He sighs quietly, resting his arm along the back of the couch and resting his mouth in his hand as he avoids your gaze.

Your eyes narrowed slightly at his words, and you try your best to sit up to look at him face to face. “Who are you to tell me how I feel?”

He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks at you. “Whatever you feel for me.. it’s not love. Infatuation, perhaps. You’re too naive.” He mutters as he rubs his forehead. It hurt him to say those words, although he’d never admit it. He did love you. That much he was sure of. But is it fair? For a man like him to love again? Let alone a little thing like you.

“You’re so full of shit.” You snap as you manage to scoot further away from him on the couch, ignoring the burning pain in your back.

He quickly looks over at you, annoyance on his face. “Excuse me?”

When you see his anger bubbling slightly, you falter for a moment. “Y-Yeah.” You stutter. “You’re- you’re not nice to anyone else” you say quickly as you try to think. “Not like you are to me. And I’ve never seen you be soft with someone. And here you are holding me-.”

He rolls his eyes and stands up, turning his back to you as he walks over to his desk and leaning over it as he looks out of the window. “It’s pathetic. Truly.” He mutters. “How a spoiled little brat from topside finds one man to hug on him, and all of a sudden it’s love” he spits as he turns to look at you. He felt his heart ripping as he spoke. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Poor little you, all touch starved and unloved.” He seethes as he pushes off of his desk, walking over to you. “You are nothing.” He says dangerously as he steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and yanking you upward, making you yelp slightly. “Nothing to me. Nothing to the world. Nothing at all.”

When he lets go of your face you quickly grab it yourself, trying to soothe the ache in your jaw. There would definitely be bruises tomorrow.. his fingerprints left indented on your skin. Tears spilled down your cheeks as he spoke, and as soon as he turned away from you, you managed to stand up and grab your shirt, walking towards the door. He watched you leave, wanted desperately to reach out and apologize. But years of hatred had festered in his heart.. stopping him completely.

It was a wonder you even made it home. At least, that’s what you thought. Silco had Sevika tail you to make sure you didn’t collapse in an alleyway. But you didn’t need to know that.

Your parents were in a state when you entered the house, the both of them having dinner when they saw you standing there, battered and bloody. They immediately shacked you up in your room, calling the closest doctor to examine you.

That was four days ago. You’ve hardly left your room, deciding to stay curled up in bed, thinking about everything you did wrong. Silco had to be wrong. If you didn’t love him, why the hell did it hurt this bad to not have him around?

Meanwhile, Silco was in the same boat. He still went to the threshold every day, silently hoping you would return, coming in with violent optimism and putting him in his place, making him love you. But every day.. he stood alone. It was starting to eat him up inside. He couldn’t believe he’d done that to you. Said that to you. Touched you like that after promising you’d never be hurt again. He’d gone as far as putting out his cigars on himself. Just as a reminder of what you must’ve felt- having your heart ripped to pieces by a man who was supposed to keep you safe.

Needless to say, neither of you were taking this well. Right after you’d left that day, someone had brought him the sewer rats that had beat you. He spent the next two hours doing whatever he could to make them hurt.. taking out his own frustrations as well.

Coming up on day five of no interaction, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Putting on a cloak, he made his way into Piltover unnoticed. He knew where you lived thanks to Sevika, but when he saw the mansion your parents owned he knew he couldn’t just knock. He managed to case the house to the best of his ability, but he got lucky. He watched as you stepped out onto your small balcony connected to your room, and he knew where to find you.

Now, don’t ask about how he managed to climb up onto your balcony. Once he slid over the railing, he looked through the glass doors and found you lying in your bed, curled up into a ball under the blankets. He sighed softly when he saw how your head was hidden under the covers. He knew he must have torn your heart out. He could barely stand the thought. Managing to slip into your room silently, he rested against the wall near the balcony in case he needed to take his leave suddenly- like if your parents walked in. He pulled off his cloak and set it on your vanity before sitting in an empty chair.

What could he say to you? He knew his apologies would probably be worthless. He watched the way your body rose and fell in tandem with your soft breathing. He had never felt so alive as when watching you simply exist. Seeing you breathe, seeing you laugh.. it all reminded him of life itself. How to some.. there was good in the world.

After a few moments pass with him sitting and thinking of what to do, he suddenly hears a weak gasp. Looking up immediately, he sees you sitting up on your side with your back to him. He sees the way your body starts to rattle with sharp sobs that no doubt send shooting pain throughout your wound. You were having nightmares. And it was probably all his fault.

After a moment you turn with a wince to rest your back against the headboard, but you freeze when your eyes land on him sitting near your balcony. He saw the way your whole body tensed, and how you quickly tried to wipe your tears away so he wouldn’t see. With a heavy sigh, he gently stood and walked over to your large bed, sitting on the end of it with his back to you. Resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, the two of you stay quiet for a few moments, the only sounds being his tired breaths and your sniffles.

“Love is too complex of an emotion for my body to handle anymore.” His voice says quietly, but you heard him clear as day in the wide open room. “Often.. I wake up and wonder what it’s all for. Money, power.. humanity. You.. have ruined me.” He whispers faintly, his voice gravelly. “You are everything I am not. Everything I can never be again. Please.. forgive me. Forgive a damaged fool who burns up in the presence of your light.” He murmurs through tired breaths. “You deserve nothing as scarred as me. I wish I could say my flaws are only skin deep. But I’m afraid my heart is as marred as my face.”

After he speaks, his voice raw with honesty, he’s left in silence. After a few long moments, he tenses as he feels your arms slide around his waist, pulling him close as your head rests on his back. “I’m just a stupid kid- like you said” you choke out, voice raw from how much you had been crying. “And you’re so.. so much more.” You sob softly, arms tightening around him as you bury your face against his shirt. “You’re beautiful. Especially when you’re broken.” You add through tears, giving him the hug you always wished someone would give you.

Shaky breaths slip past his lips as he tries to comprehend your words. God, how he missed feeling human. Once he manages to breathe again, he gently turns onto the bed, grabbing you from behind him and pulling you to rest over his lap. Your legs hang over his thigh, still on the bed as he presses his forehead against your own, one arm around your shoulders and the other around your hips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He chokes out softly, his eyes closing as his hands rub over your clothed skin.

Sighing softly when he pulls you into his lap, you can’t help but snuggle into him with a weak yawn. Your face was red and tear stained.. you looked like you’d barely slept. “My parents will kill you if they find you here.” You chuckle weakly against his chest. “You’re not exactly the kind of guy they want me to bring home.”

With a weak smile crossing his face, he presses his lips against your forehead gently. “I would trust their judgement.” He murmurs as he gently rocks you back and forth ever so slightly. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily” he whispers against your hair. “You deserve better than that.”

Sighing softly, you lean up to press your lips to the underside of his jaw. “Yeah.. well. Believe it or not, I still feel safest with you.” You murmur tiredly. With a faint sigh he gently picks you up, walking around the length of your bed and setting you down, your head resting against your pillows. Yawning gently, you snuggle into your blankets and the pile of stuffed animals next to you. “go lock the door” you order sleepily.

With a faint chuckle he follows your command, locking your bedroom door before he walks back over to where you lay in your bed. Bending down to slip off his shoes, he moves to lay underneath the covers with you, pulling you into his arms with a contented sigh. “Is this alright?” He murmurs softly.

Cuddling into his hold, you nod as your eyes start to close. “if you hear my parents just wake me up and hide under the bed.” You say faintly, melting into his arms as he keeps you warm.

Smiling against your hair he places a kiss to your forehead, his hand reaching up to rub your upper back soothingly. “Don’t worry.” He whispers against your skin. “This is our little secret.”

[bunbun-mochi]

Tantrum - Queen of Onychinus

Sylus x MC (Fluff, a bit of smut, MDNI)

Warning: mentions of death(Sylus killed someone), mentions of sex, MDNI

Word Count: 1787, no proofreading

Preview: You got upset that Sylus decided to choose work over you. Not that you were in any trouble, you just wanted Sylus to be by your side. So you decided to throw a tantrum by going through a series of event just to show Sylus how upset you are.

I am extremely angry. My beloved husband still decided to go tend to his business in the N109 zone even though I begged him to stay home with me. He has left his poor wife at home all alone.

I might be overdramatic, but I believe I am being underdramatic.

Angrily, I grabbed my outerwear, shoved my wallet that contained that shining black card in my purse, along with one of his luxury car keys, and slipped on my high heels all the while I called several porters to the mall.

Since he doesn't want to spend time with me, then I shall spend time with myself!

I drove myself to the mall. The mall is the largest mall in Linkon. I parked my car and walked toward the first store.

I didn't even check any of the price tags. I see whatever is nice, I told the staff member to pack it with me.

A wedding dress, even though it's not my wedding? Buy!

An expensive wine bottle? Buy!

A luxury watch that I'm not gonna wear? Buy!

Whichever luxury brand I see, I go in, pick out several clothes, purses, and jewelry I like, and ask the staff to pack them for me.

Although I'm in a bad mood, my husband is taking all my anger, not those poor staffs.

Within a couple of hours, six of my porters are already struggling to carry all my bags and I already checked all the stores I wanted to. Let's go home, I'm already tired.

As I walked through the mall, I saw a lingerie store. I looked at my husband's card and then the lingerie. Then I have the evilest idea.

My dear husband will get notifications of where his card are being used at. Oh, my dear dear husband, hope you are looking forward to this.

I smiled wickedly as I walked into the lingerie store.

Sylus was prepared to enter a meeting when his phone ranged. He checked the caller ID and recognized it's from one of his bank. The specific bank that had one of his black cards.

Scowling, he picked up the phone. "Hello."

The other side sounded slightly panicked. "Mr. Sylus! I believe there could be fraud involving your card. There had been many purchases made in a short spam time, totalling up to nearly a hundred million."

Sylus narrowed his eyes. This is a first time he got a call saying someone is committing fraud using his card. "Where was the card used?"

"It's at a shopping mall in Linkon." The speaker listed some of the places in the mall where the card was being used. Sylus smirked. He immediately recognized that the stores were all where his beautiful wife would go.

As the list goes on, Sylus laughed. People around him were shocked to see the infamous leader of Onychinus have the ability to laugh.

"Let those payment go through. I know who made those purchases. She sure is very angry with me, spending this much already."

"I understand. I apologize for wasting your time. You have a nice day." The speaker said.

"One more thing," Sylus started. "Send me notifications whenever this card is being used. I'm very interested on what my wife is spending on."

"Yes, Mr. Sylus." and the call ended.

Sylus looked at his phone and smiled. His wife is throwing a tantrum. Although he doesn't like it when his wife gets upset because it breaks his heart a little seeing the sad faces his wife makes. But if she is spending his money the way he wants, maybe it's not so bad after all.

Sylus slid his phone back into his pocket and walked into the meeting room.

There are several bodyguards guarding the area. Two guards behind the man sitting across from Sylus. Two more guards behind Sylus, as if they were afraid he would do any funny business. All the while Luke and Kieran are outside the meeting room. His phone vibrated every fifteen minutes, indicating a purchase was made. He looked at his phone screen and took a sharp breath.

A purchase was made in a lingerie store. Sylus smirked. Feeling his pants feeling tighter as he imagined what lingerie she would get and what would she look like in it.

His phone vibrated again and he checked his phone again. A text message from his wife. He unlocked his phone and an image immediately popped up. His beautiful wife wearing nearly nothing except a deep red lingerie. The cloth that covered her breasts was so thin he could see her nipples through the picture. And her nether area was completely uncovered.

Sylus immedietly locked his screen, remembering there are guards behind him.

Oh, sweetie. You have no idea what you are doing to me. Because of you, I had to kill someone tonight.

Sylus slowly stood up, turned around, and faced the two guards. Their faces were slightly red.

"How much did you see," Sylus asked, voice deeper and more threatening.

The guards stood there, frozen.

"I'll ask again. How. Much. Did. You. See." Sylus cletched his fist, his voice become even more threatening.

"I-I-I-We-We-We didn't see much!" One guard stammered.

"Didn't see much indicated you had saw it." Sylus smirked. "Like what you see?"

The guards opened and closed their mouth like a fish, unable to know what to say.

"It doesn't matter." Sylus eyes darken. "My wife is so merciful. Allowing you two see a body of an angel before I take your life."

The guards started to stammer some apologies, but it fallen into deaf ears as Sylus used his evol, turning the two guards into nothing but red dusts.

Sylus then turned to the man sitting across from him. His eyes widened in fear, afraid Sylus would do the same to him as he did to the guards.

"I'm going have to end the meeting shorter than usual. My wife is calling for me." Sylus said, then immediately left the room.

Luke and Kieran stood outside the meeting room, nearly jumped when the door opened. Confused on why their boss left the meeting early, they followed Sylus.

"Boss, what's the problem?" Luke asked.

"Someone is demanding me to come home now." Sylus answered.

Luke and Kieran looked at each other and smirked. "Ah. We see."

Sylus can hear their teasing voice behind the mask but chose to ignore them. He cannot waste any more time. Someone is desperate.

I sent a selfie to Sylus of the lingerie I brought, hoping it would make him understand how much he fucked up.

Oh, but he doesn't know what else I have planned. I am so evil.

I grabbed the bag containing the lingerie and walked out of the store. "I'm done for today," I said to the porters and they all sighed in relief. I walked out to my car, with the bag containing the surprise for Sylus. I sat in the car and texted Tara.

Me:

Tara, bestie! You know the movie you always wanted to watch?

Tara:

Omg, yes! I have time tonight!

Me:

Let's go. My treat!

I smirked as i toss my phone to the passenger seat. Oh, my dear husband. You're in for a treat.

I parked the car at the front of our mansion. I already saw Sylus' car at the distant toward our personal parking lot. I left the car running as I walked out the car. I opened the front door, leaving it opened just in case. I walked toward our shared bedroom.

Sylus was on the sofa near the window. I walked over and he smirked as if he knew what I wanted to do. I dropped the small lingerie bag onto his lap and gave him a small peck on his lips.

"I'll wear it in a few hours." I said.

Sylus blinked in confusion and I took that moment to bolt out of our shared bedroom, ran down the stairs, out the front door and jumped into the car. All the while my phone ranged with the specific ringtone I had for Sylus.

I laughed as I drove away, back to Linkon.

That's what you get for choosing the meeting instead of me.

I parked in another city, just in case Sylus have a tracker in that car. My phone dinged with notifications.

Sylus:

Sweetie, what is the meaning of this?

I demand an explanation.

I know you can read this!

I smiled as I sent the final text for him.

Me:

See you in a few hours! Don't miss me too much.

I pressed send and turned off my phone and left it in the car.

I called for a taxi and met Tara at the movies. Feeling satisfied with the gift I had for Sylus.

The movies were good. I bid goodbye to Tara after we left the movie theaters. I called for the taxi and got back into my car. Then I took my sweet time and drove home.

"Boss is very angry." Kieran said. "What did you do?"

"I did what every good wife would do." I answered as I turned on my phone.

Then several dings of messages popped up.

Sylus:

Oh sweetie, you are a cruel woman.

I will make sure you regret what you did today. I moved all my meeting and work I have to do this week to next week. Hope you are ready.

I gulped. Uh-oh.

"Um, I forgot something in the car." I nervously said.

Before i could turn around, red mist covered by body and immediately dragged me into the bedroom.

Sylus was in bed. Furious. His eyes glowered as he shut the door and plopped me onto the bed. As soon as his mist let go of me, I quickly got up to try to run out the bedroom, but Sylus immedetly grabbed my waist and pushed me back onto the bed.

"H-Hello, Sylus, " I stammered.

"Hello, sweetie." Sylus smirked. "Hope you had fun."

I nervously chucked, "uh, how was the meeting?"

Sylus smile faded. "Changing the subject won't save you, kitten. Hope you know that."

Oh dear.

The entire bedroom, every piece of furniture, Sylus and I all done on it. The wall, the coffee table, the bathroom, the nightstand, the window. Everywhere. I swear we did all the positions in the book. We might've even made new positions. My back hurts. I can't feel my legs. Sylus is a monster.

I think I might get pregnant.

If I knew he could do it for an entire fucking week. I groaned. If I knew Sylus had that much stamina that could last for an entire week, I wouldn't have done this to him!

dividers, templates, headers, and banners are from @uzmacchiato

[impalanna]

Title: Foggy Windows Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Warnings: Mentions of violence, swearing, p in v, smut, dirty talk, SO MUCH SMUT, name calling, rough sex, Dean using you Summary: You and Dean go on a hunt together. You two don't even get to the location where the hunt is without having to pull over and, you know. Authors' notes: For @shadysoulangel :) This is based off of an imagine that I did (click here to access) I hope you guys enjoy! ;) Word Count: 2,837k

Dean rubbed his eyes, not ready to go out on this hunt but wanting to get out of the bunker for a little while. He was pent up, in every since of the word. You were asleep beside him, which made him look down at you and smile. He loved waking up before you did. It meant he could look at how peaceful you are, curled up beside him. He adored you.

You always knew when eyes were on you, even when you were sleeping. It always woke you up when someone was watching you. You stirred awake, meeting Dean's eyes. "You watching me sleep, perv?" You giggled at him, getting on your knees to lean up and kiss him gently. "What? You gonna watch me shower, too?" You asked him in the sexiest tone you could muster up.

"Damn right I might, sweetheart." He smirked at you, eyeing you in his old T-shirt and your underwear. He is so goddamn hot. You thought to yourself as you went into the bathroom and closed the door, taking off your clothes.

You slipped into the shower and began washing your body, the thoughts of how tense Dean seemed when he was hunting taking over your mind. You wanted to get him to relax, to breathe for just a minute, but he isn't going to listen to you if you ask him to take care of himself. So you had an idea. You would take care of him, in the only way he'd let you.

You knew it was summer and it was hot, so you could get away with wearing your shortest shorts without making it seem like you were trying to get his attention. You smiled to yourself as you moisturized and then went to your closet to pick out your top. You knew just the one. It was black, which was Dean's favorite color on you, with a low cut neck and it was cropped. Perfect for staying comfy and perfect for getting him to focus on how bad he knows he wants you.

You walk out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, down the hallway and into the kitchen where Sam and Dean were eating their cereal and drinking their coffee. He saw you, and choked on his corn flakes. Sam gave him a confused puppy dog head tilt and then turned around to see you, then rolled his eyes. "Can you guys get a room?"

You smirked to yourself as you went to the cabinet to get a cup. There were cups already out, but you loved how cute they looked turned upside down beside the coffee maker so you never messed with them.

"Morning." Sam said in a yawn, his head in a daze due to the lack of sleep. "No breakfast?"

"You know I never eat breakfast, Sam." You said in a happy tone. You were telling the full truth when you said that.

"Oh yeah… guess I forgot." He said slowly again, watching you make your coffee to your liking. "Hey, we've got a hunt but I'm going to see a friend, you think we can take it on with Dean? It's about a day's drive from here."

"Sure, that's fine." You smiled at Sam, "Who's your friend?"

"Uh, no one, just, uh -"

"He's gonna go get laid." Dean cut him off. Sam shot a look to Dean that would kill if it could. "What? She's no prude." Dean said in defense of himself.

"Oh hell yeah, Sam! You go! We'll take this hunt, we need some time alone anyways." You looked at Dean and said, "let me go grab some stuff to take on the road." And left the two brothers with their thoughts.

"Mhm, yeah sure, princess." Dean didn't think you could hear him but you did, and goddamn did it put fire in your veins to hear it.

Damn you loved it when he called you princess. He knew that, too.

You hopped into Baby as you took your bag off your back. You knew exactly how you were going to get him to break for you. He was going to fuck you like he hasn't fucked in years.

Dean gets into the Impala, his eyes trailing your whole body as he sits down. He was primarily focused on your chest. You were playing on your phone but you knew exactly what he was doing, and you knew what you were doing, too.

"So what kinda music are we listenin' to?" Dean asked about a minute into the drive. His voice was, if you had to put it in a word, dark. You didn't say anything but you pulled out a tape he made you a few years ago. He labeled it "foggy Windows" because when you guys would have sex in the Impala, the glass would fog up.

He smirked at this. "What are you tryin' to do, sweetheart?"

You didn't say anything again as you slid the tape into the player and let it play. You smirked as "She brings me love" came on. You leaned close to Dean, facing him with a huge ass smile on your face.

"You need it, sweetheart? You baitin' me?" His voice was low as he slid his right hand up your leg. "I wouldn't be mad."

"And what if I am?" You asked with a smirk. "Maybe I'm just that horny for you."

The tires squealed as he came to a hard stop. "Say it again. Tell me how much you need me to fuck you." His voice was shaky as he spoke, his eyes wondering from your lips to your chest.

"Dean I need it so bad, baby. I need you to fuck me." Your face was going red under your makeup, as it did you thanked yourself for putting it on this morning.

Dean pulls Baby into the closest empty parking lot.

"Good girl. You're so good for me, doing what I tell you to do." He smirks and shuts the engine off. You could tell how hard he was just by looking at him. His cheeks flushed, his jeans a little too tight, and he had an adorable smirk on his face.

"I can be even better." You said slowly. You had no idea where your confidence was coming from but you were just glad it was there for you when you needed it.

"Get in the back." Dean demanded you, "Don't open the door to get back there. I want you to climb over my seat. Just don't damage my headliner." He said sternly.

"Yes, sir." You said as you climbed over his seat, making sure you purposefully put your ass in his face as you did so, which made Dean slap your ass as hard as he could. "Good girl."

"You're so good for me, princess." You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second.

Dean opened the door and climbed on top of you, closing the door behind him. He immediately looks down at your chest. "Goddamn, baby, I know why you wore this shirt." He said, grinding against your leg.

You smirk and bite your lip, "Yeah? You like it, daddy?" You ask as you squeeze your boobs between your arms, making them almost pop out of your shirt.

"Fuck, (y/n), you have no idea." He says as he starts kneeling them through your shirt. " I've been wanting this for a while." He says, leaning down to suck on your neck.

You gasp at the feeling of him all over you like this. 'Since I've been loving you' by Led Zeppelin starts playing in the background, making you moan. You knew that when this song was playing, Dean was going to fuck you good. it wasn't because you two were "together" or whatever. He really did love you, with everything he had. He told you one time on a hunt, a hunt that almost killed you. And he knew damn well that you loved him with everything you have too.

"Dean, please, baby. I need it so bad. Need to bounce on you." You wanted to ride him so badly.

"Oh, fuck, sweetheart, You want to bounce on my cock, baby? You want to make me cum for you?" He moaned in your ear, damn near panting because of how bad he needed you.

"Yes, Dean, please." You beg him, hoping he'd give into you. But he didn't.

"Sweetheart, you know I love to please you, right?" He asked breathlessly.

"Yeah baby I do, why?"

"Because I'm not going to give into you. I need to let off some steam. I need to have you the way I want you right now. I need you to be a good little slut for me." He was so fucking needy, and fuck, it turned you on.

You couldn't say anything to this, but you nodded your head. At this he slid off your shorts and threw them into the front seat.

"Baby, no underwear?" He asked, it coming out as a praise rather than a question.

"Yeah baby, all for you." You couldn't help but sound desperate. You needed him, bad.

"God, you're such a good little slut for me." He growls into your ear, his hands roaming around your body until he meets your clit.

"Fuck, fuck yeah Dean I'm your slut." You moan as he rubs circles on your clit, almost pushing you off the edge.

"You're so wet for me too baby, must really want me." He grunts as he sucks on your neck, close to your earlobe.

Dean couldn't hold back anymore. He was so hard his jeans were hurting him. He slides his jeans off and pulls his shirt over his head and he strokes his cock a few times while looking down at you. "So fuckin' gorgeous, (y/n)." He moans as he strokes himself, precum leaking from his tip.

Dean positions himself at your entrance. He looks up at you, and you know how good he's about to fuck you. He slams into you, and you pull him down onto you. Your name falling off his lips like sin. "(y/n), you're so fuckin' tight for me, baby. Feels so damn good."

You loved it when he'd talk to you like this. It would send you over the edge. You dug your nails into the skin on his back as he slammed into you, not giving you any time at all to adjust to his huge size. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you let him rail you, moaning into his ear, "you fuck me so good, this pussy is all yours, Dean."

"I know she is." Dean said, as skin was hitting skin, the sounds of this filling up the Impala. The windows fogging even though it's a billion degrees outside, which Dean was a saint to leave the ac on because of this.

The way he would refer to your pussy as "she" instead of you, always made you feel, weird, but good. You loved it when he said this. Part of you thought it was because you liked the way he didn't look at you as just a sex outlet. Yeah he loved your sex but he loved so much more about you and valued so much more of you than that. And even after all these years, after all the sex you guys have had, you're still amazed that he thought this way.

You clenched around him when he said this to you, your legs wrapped around his waist as he rode you out. "You better wait and come for me, sweetheart. I'll tell you when you can come." He purrs into your ear,

"Yes, sir." You moan in response. He slows down and gets off of you, changing things up and doing exactly what he's been fantasizing about doing to you.

Get on your stomach, baby." He demands, but there was always a tinge of gentleness in his voice when he took control like this; unless he was mad at you.

You nodded and got on your stomach.

"Good girl. Now bring your knees to your chest, princess." This was hard but it wasn't the first time he's made you do this. "Yes, daddy." You responded.

"Good fucking girl. Now, arch that back for me and spread those sexy ass legs." He moans. "Oh and put your hands behind your back so I can hold onto them." He smirks.

"You do as your told, after bringing your legs to your chest you arched your back and spread your legs. Dean puts a thumb into your asshole and starts to pound into you again, not letting you adjust this time either.

"Ohhh fuck, such a good slut. You're such a good little slut for me, aren't you princess?" He asks breathlessly, his thumb in your ass making your head spin. "You like it when I fill you up like this? Both your holes filled up by me, (y/n)?" He was so fucking close and it was obvious.

"Yes, daddy I LOVE it when you fill me up like this. You fuck this tight little pussy so good, I'm your little slut." You are screaming at this point, his cock slamming into you so hard you almost forgot where you were. The only thing that was on your mind right now was Dean.

Dean pulled out quickly and sat down on the leather seats, looking at you and panting. You looked so disappointed it was adorable. "Did you cum?" You asked, hoping he didn't yet. You liked to ride him when he and you both came, and he knew this.

"Bounce on me. Get your fine ass over here and ride daddy's cock, you slut." Dean demanded, his eyes dark with lust.

You didn't hesitate. You took your shirt off that you've been wearing this whole time and you hopped on him, sinking down on him. "Fuck yeah, so tight for me and I've been using you for over an hour now, baby. Your pussy is perfect." You smirked at this and started riding him, rolling your hips and moaning his name.

"You're perfect, sweetheart, All of you is perfect. Every last inch of you, (y/n)." He moaned as you rolled your hips faster. You took your bra off and threw it in the front seat. You then grabbed the top of the bench seat behind Dean and started to bounce on him, your tits making a slapping sound on your skin every time they'd come back down to reunite with the soft skin under them.

Dean was losing his mind. Your body moving like this on him, how tight you are, the sounds you were making, the way you looked riding him, he was lost in you. He was in a daze. You leaned forward to kiss him gently. You were so close and he was too. He grabbed your ass and started fucking up into you. "You like that, sweet girl? You like it when I grab your ass like this and pound you?" He moaned into your ear as he took control yet again.

"Yes daddy I do, please fuck me harder, I'm gonna cum." You moaned loudly as he pounded you relentlessly.

"So fuckin' good for me, slut. You better come for me, bitch. Cum all over my cock, (y/n). I wanna feel you squeeze me." He demands behind clenched teeth.

You didn't hold back, you let out moan after moan, begging him to fill you up, telling him his cock made you feel like a perfect little slut. “Mmmmmm, Dean you fuck me so good.” You moan as you’re looking at him, his eyes locked on yours and a sexy fucking smirk playing on his face.

Dean pulled you off him and threw you onto the seat. He was careful to make sure your head wasn’t going to hit anything before he threw you. He quickly got between your legs. "Wanna watch your tits bounce like this while I fuck you, sweetheart." His movements were powerful and sloppy. He was moaning your name, pinching your nipples, and fucking you; hard. Harder than he ever has.

You scream his name, holding onto the edge of the seat for support. You are bouncing and moaning, your breasts moving all over the place as his cock pounds into your dripping wet cunt.

"So pretty like this baby." He moans and grabs your neck gently. He moans your name, "Fuck I'm gonna cum for you, sweetheart. Gonna fill up your perfect little pussy." He grunts loudly, his grip on your neck tighter now. He cums deep inside of you, his dick all the way into you, reaching your g-spot. "Ohhhh yeah baby, fuck yeah that's good, Fuck I'm cumin'" He moans as he spills deep inside of you, his thrusts slowing down as he empties himself.

"I love you, baby." You say breathlessly.

Dean leans down and kisses you, soft and slow. "And I can't live without you, baby." He says, panting.

[briefalpacashark]

~Ghost of the past~

When returning to your hometown you faced with some unpleasant memories.

================================================

You stared. Your eyes locked on the projection in front of you. You sat with the boys all in a little meeting room as Price walked you through your next mission.

“Australia?” Soap asked.

“That's right. We got a lead that there a weapons cache. One of makarovs. We head in. Clear it out and take a few prisoners for questioning,” Price explained.

“Excited to go home lass?” You looked over the photos of the familiar landscape. Your expression was blank as you comprehend what Price was telling you.

“Lass?” Everyone's attention turned to you. 

“Huh?” You asked, snapping out of your little trance.

“You alright?” Gaz asked, giving your side a little nudge. Your usual bright smile graced your lips as you leaned back in the chair.

“Of course. Sorry Jonny. Was in my own little world. Whadya say?” you asked. You could feel it. The anxiety creeping up your spine. Ticking the back of your ribs.

“Asked if ya excited to go home?” Soap repeated with a grin. You smiled bashfully nodding your head.

“Of course. Where about we going?” you asked Price. He smiled warmly happy with what he was about to tell you.

“We're actually going to your old base, you got family down there, don't you?” he asked. The fear gripped your lungs, stopping any hope of breathing. You nodded.

“You got any hot sisters?” Soap asked. You chuckled, shaking your head. 

You were going home?

“Sorry Jonny. Only got a brother,” you said.

“Damn,” he faked disappointment as Gaz chuckled. Price smiled at the interaction.

“Who we working with?” you asked. 

“Australian special forces. Not sure what team yet,” he stated. 

That's fine. You thought. There were plenty of special forces units. The chances of meeting your old team were slim. But it was still there. You nodded, readjusting in your seat. You could feel the room getting small. The air getting thicker. You didn't take anything else in after that. Your forced smile stayed upon your lips the entire time. And inside your mind was a mess. A storm of past events that had haunted you for many a day and in the dark of night when you searched for sleep. 

“Doc want to come up here and give us a brief. We’ll be out in the bush and Laswell said you might know an insider's thing or two,” he gestured you up. All the fear and anxiety you felt was pushed way down low, locked away and covered in a black curtain. After all there was no use in worrying about something you couldn't change.

“Alright,” You cracked your knuckles slaughtering over to the white board.

“Rule number one!” You took a marker writing the word death in big letters.

“Anything and everything can and will try to kill you. And when I mean everything, I mean everything. No matter what, check your boots every time before you put them on. One bite from a funnel web and you're dead,” You took on a half joking half serious tone as you slapped the board.

“I can almost guarantee that you will come across a snake. Half of them are venomous, the other half aint. But they both will leave you alone if you leave them alone. You see a snake, you stay still, let him pass and then walk away. DO! NOT! PESTER! THE WILDLIFE! They can and will fuck you up,” the boys grinned as you emphasised the next words.

“Rule number two,” You wrote the word etiquette.

“When meeting someone or walking past someone you will be asked this question. Howya goin? Translated, it means how are you going. This is not a question. It is not an innovation to have a conversation. This is a greeting. The only appropriate response to this greeting are as follows,

Not to bad.

Could be better.

Good mate.

You can then have the option to say, yourself? It gives them the option to answer the same question. Do not feel offended if they dont answer,” You stated. 

“You will be called every name under the god damn sun. You will be called a cunt. It can be used as the greatest sign of affection and the greatest insult. It's all based on how they say it. Pay attention to the tone,” you said.

“You haven't called us cunts before. That mean you don't love us?” Soap asked.

“Speak for yourself,” Price spoke up. You grinned, turning back to the board. 

“Do not call anyone champ. That is the worst insult you can give, it will get you punched,” you wrote the word champ and put a larger x across it.

“If you are driving and someone gives way to you, always and I mean always give them a nod and a two-finger wave,” you explained demonstrating the movement.

“And for the love of god beware the drop bears,” you took a deathly serious tone as you wrote the word.

“The fuck is a drop bear?” Gaz asked. You turned staring deeply into their souls,

“They're about as big as a dog. Corse grey fur, one the most vicious animals you will meet down under. They hide in trees and drop down on unsuspecting prey, on unsuspecting people. They'll rip you to shreds faster than any of the bears here. Tear your face right of the bone” Inside you were howling with laughter as the flashes of fear you saw in the boys' faces. “Alright, that about covers it. Follow those rules and you should be fine,” You smiled cheerily.

On the flight over you found yourself staring deeply at the other side of the cargo area. It was actually happening. You thought about opting out of the mission. Using some bull shit excuse that excused you from attending. Price would have allowed it. 

And leave your team all alone? You smiled, shaking your head. No matter how scared you were, you would never abandon them. After all you had faced worse. Much worse.

But you didn't know if you could face them again.

Them?

Your old team. Every face is still fresh in your mind, as if you had only seen them yesterday. Leaning back, you closed your eyes as the plane started to descend. The fear was fighting to break free.

“You've been awfully quiet,” Your eyes snapped open, and you looked to your left where Ghost sat. His gaze was forward facing his arms crossed over his chest.

“Nervous I guess,” you chuckled. He slowly looked to you his eyes burning into your own seeming to look for whatever secret you were keeping. 

“How long has it been?” he asked.

“Not long enough,” with his eyes boring into yours you felt as if the truth was trusted out from your chest. He hummed, seeming to get everything he wanted from the interaction before returning to his quiet self.

The plane landed and the back ramp opened up. Heaving your bag onto your shoulders you let the boys take the lead, hoping to use their tall asses to keep you hidden. The hot Australian sun of the great QLD hit you all like a wave. You had gotten used to the rain and shady weather of the Uk. You all walked out and onto the tarmac.

“Hot as balls in ear,” Soap commented.

“Captain Price!” Your group made your way over to the soldier that had been sent to greet you. He was a colonel. A well decorated one by the look of his badges. You were glad when you didn't recognize him.

“Colonel James, I presume?” Price asked as they shook hands.

“You presume right. Welcome to Australia, come on,” he nodded you to follow. As you walked you began to feel eyes set upon you. You saw familiar faces mixed in with the crowd. Some recognized you. some didn't.

“I know Ghost is scary, but anyone feel like they're getting more looks than usual?” Gaz asked as he looked around.

“Yeah,” Soap agreed. You kept your eyes on Ghost back hoping to just get inside as soon as possible.

“Fucken hell,” Your blood ran cold at the familiar voice. 

“Ah. Captain. This is Major Adam. He leads the squad you'll be working besides,” the colonel just confirmed your worst-case scenario. “Also known as the Bloody Hells,” your hand instinctively tightens around the gun you carried casually in front of you. You wouldn't believe your luck, actually you could believe your luck. Trust lady luck to throw such a twisted day at you. 

“They wernt fucking about with you lot,” Major Adam stated as he looked Ghost up and down.

“Major,” The colonel warned.

“Come on mate. We're gonna risk our necks with these boys. I think we can dispense with the formalities. Call me Adam. none of that major shit,” Adam went through the lads introducing himself. And they in return.

“Isn't there supposed to be one more of you?” Adam asked. You prayed with all your might that Ghost would stay where he was. That you could hide behind him for the whole mission if possible. Only he looked back towards you stepping back to put you on full view. Adam eyes dropped from Ghost to you. Everything froze as he gave you a kind sad smile. He did look different in the slightest. Still the same drop-dead gorgeous face. Perfect bone structure and curly black hair. His face brought back a flood of memories.

“Y/N,” the way he so tenderly used your name made you want to puke. You clench your jaw as you debate on what exactly you should do. 

“Major,” You gave a curt nod.

“You two know each other?” Price asked calculating your reaction.

“She's a part of our team,” Adam stated simply.

“Used to be. This is my team now,” You nodded to the boys. Adam smiled with an understanding nod.

“Of course. But can I just say a goodbye would have been nice. Hell, even a reason as to why you left,” You couldn't believe the audacity of the man in front of you. He knew exactly why you had left. And he knew you knew. That sweet little smile he wore twisted ever so sinisterly at its edges. 

“Oh, Sargent Y/L/N?” The colonel asked.

“That's her name. She prefers to go by Maddog though,” Adam chuckled light heartedly.

“Mad dog?” Soap asked, turning to you. The boys were all watching you, unsecure of what to make of your behavior. 

“Old nick name,” you stated simply. From the moment he had arrived you had yet to take your eyes of Adam. Yet to release the tight hold you had on your weapon.

“Well, it's an honor. Heard a lot about your work from my brother. He's a medic as well,” The colonel gave you a kind smile.

“Maybe you could give the kid a few pointers,” Adam suggested. 

“Maybe,” you bit. You just wanted it all to be over. You wanted to get out of there. You wanted to get away from the interaction. Away from him. An awkward silence passed over the group as Adam stared at you.

“Well let's get you situated,” The colonel gestured your group forward. Adam gave you all a nod as you passed. Only his hand snapped out gripping painfully tight onto your upper arm.

“Welcome home sweetheart,” Adam smirked as he whispered the words. Your eyes narrowed into a glare. 

“Let go,” you ordered. His smirk widened but he refused to move. 

“What? Didn't you miss me?” he asked.

“Doc!” you both turned to the group who had walked a few steps away. Ghost had already turned to you having been the first to notice your missing presence. The rest turned to the call. The boys could all see it. How rigid your body was. How posed it was to jump into combat at a moment's notice. How white your knuckles had gotten because of your tight grip.

“Behave. Wouldn't want your new friends getting hurt,” the warning Adam gave you had you ripping your arm from his grasp.

“I could say the same to you,” you whispered back before jogging up to your team giving them a reassuring smile.

As you were unpacking your things you could feel the gazes of the boys on your back.

“Sooooooo,” Soap trailed off.

“He was the lead of my old team. Things didn't end on good terms,” you answered quickly.

“Things?” Soap was trying to lighten the mood with his teasing tone. You were surprised when you practically slammed your locker closed.

“I'll be back soon,” you rushed the words out as you left, keeping your back to the boys. As soon as you closed the doors they shared looks.

“She's been a mess since you told us we were comen here,” Ghost announced.

“So you noticed too?” Price asked, readjusting on his cot.

“Should we be worried?” Gaz asked. They had never dealt with this side of you before. 

“That Adam guy seems nice,” Soap shrugged.

“Too nice,” Ghost muttered.

So there you were. ACDC music blasting in the shed you currently resided in. At the moment you were gutting an old truck. Tearing it apart screw by screw, bolt by bolt. It was a part of the engineer's program you guys had. New recruits had to build it completely from scratch. That meant it had to be taken apart first. It was the job everyone hated. Yet since the start of your military career you had one day been volunteered for such a task. You found a strange solace in the task. Solace you so desperately needed as your emotions decided to play trip wire with your body. It was night by the time your team came to find you. You peeked at them around the truck. You expected questions, Soaps prying nature to take over. Instead, they found scattered items to act as seats as they cracked open a few beers. Definitely not army regulation. They didn't pry, they knew you didn't want to talk about it. It brought a warm fuzzy feeling to your belly. They were there to support you. To show you, you weren't alone.

“Need a hand?” Ghost asked as he offered you a beer. 

“Sure, grab a spanner,” you took the beer, cracking it open and sculling it. Praying to find a calm in the effects of alcohol.

“What are we fixing?” he asked, looking over the half dismantled truck.

“Not fixing, pulling apart. All of it,” you stated licking the foam from your lips. You had failed to notice Ghost gaze as it trailed over your face, your lips, and your neck and upper chest that glistened with sweat. 

“Seems simple enough,” he nodded.

“That's not wise. Ghost and vehicles don't mix,” Soap spoke up. A small smile worked its way onto your face as the other laughed. 

“Don't worry Ghost. I trust ya,” you whispered jokingly to him offering him a wink. He gave a grunt as he got to work. He was wearing a short sleeve, giving you a perfect view of his muscles that rippled under his skin with each movement. As you worked you stole glances at his tattooed sleeve. 

“See something you like love?” your eyes snapped up to his face thinking you had been caught out. Only his gaze was focused on the machine in front of him.

“Nah, just something shockingly ugly,” you joked. Again, you could swear his mask tilted into a smile.

“You just smiled,” you stated proudly.

“I don't smile,” he shut you down quickly. 

“Sure,” you nodded not believing him in the slightest.

“Is she here!?” you frowned at the demand. The yell echoing through the shed.

“Woah kid. Slow down,” Price stood to meet the soldier that had just run to them.

“Is she here?” he pressed. You stepped out from behind Ghost spotting a member from your old team. Jamie. Sweet kid. Red hair and a baby face. Good heart. When he saw you, his face crumpled, his body filled with guilt. And relief?

“So you're really alive?” he asked. The boys gave you confused glances at his statement. You became very invested in getting the grease stains off your hands. “It would seem so,” you muttered. It was silent as Jamie simply stared at you.

“What do you want Jamie?” you asked softly. Too softly. Tears started to gather in his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered. Your eyes snapped up at the words. 

“I'm so sorry,” he kept repeating the words as you stalked forward.

“Shut up,” you demanded.

“I- I didn't want to. I should have never done it. Im so so sorry,” the words tumbled out of his mouth in a jumbled mess.

“Get lost Jamie,” You ordered.

“Mad dog please,” he begged.

“I said get lost!” you snapped.

“Please, I know it was wrong. I just. I was scared ok. And we were given orders. I- I didn't know what to do,” he was begging at this point.

“Oh you were scared were you?” You asked sarcastically. His mouth clamped shut. You had been sacred. Terrified. That fear lived in your heart, forever embedded into your memory. And what had he done for it. Nothing. “Come on,” you tried to drag him away. Tried to hide whatever would come to light from the boys. Only Jamie stopped pulling back from your grip. 

“He said you were dead,” he whispered. Your hand snapped out gripping tightly onto his collar.

Your mind plunged you back to that fateful day. The day you were standing on hell's doorstep. Bloodied and bruised from your efforts to save your team. The day your team fled in the safety of a helicopter. The day they saw you. Each and every one of them saw you. Alive and fighting for your goddamn life all alone. The day they left you to die. Jamie knew the words he had just said were a lie. His face wouldn't have scrunched up in such an ashamed way if he didn't.

“Doc?” Price called you softly. They weren't sure what you were about to do. But they all stood at the ready.

“Let's talk about this elsewhere,” you demanded once again, going to pull him away.

“No,” he pulled back again. “I'm not leaving until you listen to me,” He stayed. Fine if he wanted to have the conversation you'd have the conversation. 

“What did you come here for Jamie? Forgiveness?” You asked softly. He was still the kid you took under your wing. He was still the boy you had fought beside. Shed blood beside.

“Forgive what? Huh?” you asked. You wanted him to answer. To admit what he had done.

“Please,” he begged. Your resolve wasn't easy to break. But Jamie always had a special place in your heart. He reminded you of your little brother. That made it all the more painful.

“Were human Jamie. We all have moments of weakness. Of cowardice,” you whispered. “I won't blame you for that. I'll forgive you for that,” you stated. You saw the slightest hope in his eyes.

“But I'll never forget,” you finished diminishing that hope.

“A moment of weakness is understandable,” you added. You released his collar fixing it. 

“How long has it been since we last met?” you asked.

“About two years,” he answered in slight confusion.

“Damn long time for a moment of weakness huh?” you asked bitterly. Shame consumed him as he cast his eyes to the ground.

“Fuck of Jamie,” you ordered softly. He walked off without a word of protest, his tail tucked between his legs.

“And Jamie,” you called after him. He turned awaiting your next words.

“He's gonna get you killed,” you said. He didn't acknowledge your words, but you could see they had wormed their way into his brain. And a little part of him knew you were right. 

You could feel the boy's eyes bore into you. Trying to make sense of what had just happened. 

Silently you walked back over to the truck, picking up your discarded wrench and getting back to work. 

“You alright love?” Price asked. The boys were shocked when you showed them your usual bright smile. They were surprised at how normal you could act, but they all knew the smile on your face wasn't accurate to what you were feeling inside. 

“I'm fine, boys,” you said.

“I'd like to be alone for a bit, if it's alright you you lot?” you suggested casually. 

“Yeah, yeah. Course,” Price nodded, gesturing for the boys to leave.

“Well be back at base if you need anything,” he added before walking off. You waited till you couldn't hear the foot falls before you dropped your head into your hand, the tears flowing from your eyes like a tap. 

God, what had you gotten yourself into. 

Your soft sobs echoed in the shed, being just loud enough for the boys to hear.

It was late when you walked into the tent. You knew the boys would have woken up with your arrival, but they stayed in their sleeping positions. You looked over them. How many times had they risked their life for you. How many times had they saved you. 

They had saved you.

Joining the 141 saved you. 

And you were damned if you were to let anything happen to them.

“Price,” you walked over to him. He opened his eyes quickly sitting up.

“Need anything love?” he asked. 

“We can't go on this mission,” you said. He frowned, glancing at the others who had all sat up.

“Whadya mean?” he asked you to elaborate.

“Adam’s a snake sir. He will fuck us over without a second thought if it means getting what he wants. We can't trust him. And we can't go on this mission. It's too dangerous,” you spoke firmly. The only betrayal to the hard font you put on being the red puffy eyes from crying.

“That's not really an option Doc,” he said.

“Then make it one,” you pressed. He pressed his lips together, sighing. You had never asked anything of him. You had trusted his every order, his every choice. “Doc, we all have history. But we are soldiers. Shit goes wrong all the time,” he was trying to reason with you. Trying to make you see that whatever lovers quarrel you had with Adam meant nothing. That's what he thought it was. He would never be able to guess the severity of what had happened.

“Please Sir. I'm begging you, Please don't make us go on this mission,” they hated how frail you sounded. How broken. Price wanted at that very moment to give into you. To do as you said. But he didn't have the full story.

“If I'm gonna do this I need the full story doc,” he gave you the ultimatum. He needed proof to ditch the mission. Reasonable doubt. After all he was a soldier, a good one at that. He couldn't ditch a mission just because one of his soldiers asked him nicely.

“I,” your words got caught in your throat. You wanted to tell him everything. 

But you couldn't.

“I can't say sir,” you admitted.

“Then this conversation is done,” he spoke softly, finishing the discussion. At that moment you hated how rational he was.

“Yes sir,” you whispered, walking over to your bunk and sitting down with your back to the boys. After slipping off your boots you got into bed.

The next day everyone was ready. When the boys had woken up you were nowhere to be seen in the barracks. 

“You think she'll come?” Soap asked as he checked his weapons. To their left the bloody hells were doing final checks as well.

“Don't know,” Price muttered. A soft silence washed over the group as you walked up to them. You wore a simple desert mask that covered the bottom half on you face your eyes blank of emotions. The boys took notice of the guilty bewildered looks the other team gave you. “Well good morning beautiful,” Adam smiled brightly. You paused looking over his face. You had made many memories with the man in front of you. Many sweet and beautiful. But they were all bitter now. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out an old patch. The bloody hells written in red upon it. The edge was stained with blood, the other side burnt slightly. 

“Thought it was time I gave this back,” you muttered holding it out to him. He refused to take it.

“Once a member of the bloody hells always a member,” he said. You huffed.

“Nah mate,” you shock your head, throwing it to his feet.

“Lets get it done,” you said, knocking knuckles with Jonny before getting into the back of the truck.

The mission was a simple one. Get in, clear the base. Collect data and dispose of the weapons. It was going well. You were with your boys. That was until you weren't.

“Tims been hit. Our medics down. We need you MadDog,” you ears rung at the comms. You were currently in a hallway. Price turned back to you.

“This is Doc, what is your position, over?” you asked into the comm.

“West side, next to the green building,” he responded.

“That's the cleared area,” you muttered.

“Take Ghost with you,” Price ordered.

“No, you've still got enemies to face. It's a cleared area, I'll be fine,” you said. You were right and he knew it. He also knew you could handle yourself.

“Look after each other ok,” you ordered before taking off in the direction you had come from.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

================================================

[bitter-me]

Hey ! I wanted to ask for a Caelus (if you write for him) x male reader. The reader is like Alastor from Hazbin Hotel (or Medicine Pocket of Reverse 1999 if you didn't watch Hazbin Hotel/not comfortable with it).

Just some general headcanon about how they would be together.

Ignore it if you don't want to write it !!

Have a good day/night.

Caelus General Headcanon

Caelus | M. Reader as Alastor [Hazbin Hotel]

----------

"Salutations! Good to be back on the air!"

----------

First of all, the whole Astral Express will be telling him to stay away from this guy called, the Radio Demon.

They told him stories, tales, legends, all in efforts of trying to keep their newest member away from such a powerful being. One they shouldn't anger.

He kept that in mind of course, but somehow when he met you face to face he didn't even think that you're the one he's been warned about. You're just so.. friendly. With that constant smile and old time-y humor.

Penacony is an interesting place after all, so perhaps this deer-like man isn't that bad. You seem friendly enough. Plus, he wanted to have friends in this new place.

The moment he found out who you truly are, he was skeptical and felt a little betrayed. Someone he thought he could trust is... actually the last person you should ever trust.. He cut all communication after that, he just needs.. a little space.. some time to think through all of that..

Over the course of a few days, maybe even weeks. You two became acquainted once more. Long-story-short, you two started dating! Knowing how the others might react, you two kept it a secret.

How did you two meet? At The Reverie. You were walking through the corridors until some guy ran into you. How brash.. You were about to give him a piece of your mind. I mean—who in the universe has the audacity to do that to you? The Radio Demon. That is until.. you saw how pitiful he looked. Like a kicked puppy. So you decided to show mercy and leave the poor guy alone.

The second time you guys meet will be at the Dreamscape, more specifically the Golden Hour. He saw you walked out of the tailor and decided to approach you, apologizing for crashing into you and offered to treat you to some Penacony's delicacies as an apology.

Being the "kind person" you are, you accept his apology. This little apology is practically your first date.

He loves your radio voice, it has a certain appeal to it. He could listen to it all day. Even if he doesn't understand what you're saying, he will still listen just because he loves your voice.

If you tell him you have a radio program, he would listen to it all day just so he could hear your voice.

You became overprotective of the Trailblazer and so.. you sent one of your shadows to follow him. Doesn't matter what star system he's in, you'll make sure your shadow follows him and ensure your beloved's safety.

This unintentionally became a whole running joke amongst the Nameless, because no matter how many trash cans he digs through, how many times he goes through danger headfirst, how much he would do things out of impulse. Caelus never get sick nor injured. If only they knew..

Anyone who dares touch you will face the consequences, but anyone who dares touch Caelus will meet their maker.

You would sometimes send gifts with your shadows or in some rare occasion, you'll teleport to where the shadow was just to spend some time with your handsome boyfriend.

But whenever Caelus wanted to introduce you to anyone, you immediately disappeared without a trace. Where did you go?

The reveal of your relationship is filled with surprise and dismay from everyone. Caelus? Dating the Radio Demon? Did they hear that right? The Radio Demon?!

The first few weeks, maybe even months after the reveal they're still worried about Caelus. This is you after all! The Radio Demon! Why should they let their guard down around someone like you?! You could kill all of them in an instant! Especially with that smile of yours.. that uncanny smile that seems to be permanently plastered on your face...

But as time passes by, they see how you treat your beloved boyfriend and maybe.. just maybe.. you're not as bad as they originally thought..?

Will beg you to lend him your staff. He will also beg you to let him touch your ear/hair (?)

He will be your anchor, the one who will keep you grounded to reality and not go full demon mode on anyone. As much as he finds it hot whenever his boyfriend uses his powers to their fullest potential, he doesn't want anyone getting injured or dying.

He would spend a long time at the Data Bank just to learn about old history to impress you and would definitely try learning old slangs too.

He would 100% learn how to waltz just so that he could waltz with you at the Parlor Car. The phonograph plays slow music as the two of you dance along with the vast starie galaxy.

You're a demon, yes, but you're still an old soul. So he figures you would like these stuff more than let's say... Aetherium Wars. So he's going to try his best to learn these old time-y things just for you!