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moody-alcoholic · 2 hours ago

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Cross My Heart

Part 5 - Should Have Gone To Med School

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: Medical stuff, descriptions of wounds, description of medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, blood.

AN: Why does everything I write turn into a medical drama.

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You hide the scalpel between the mattress and the bed frame. No point in getting caught with it. You’ll help Price but you won’t take them over the border. It’s too risky, you need them to trust you at least for now. Besides you’re about to maim their captain, or at least you assume he’s the captain. Gaz called him cap.

He ordered Ghost around and you thought he was incharge.

“Hey.” The voice at the door makes you jump. You turn to see Soap looking at you. He’s unarmed for once, maybe they are starting to trust you. “Sorry, I wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?” You ask heading out the room. He blushes running his hand through his hair. Christ, what's he nervous about. He moves to the side to let you out into the hall.

“For back in the vets with Ghost.”

“So he told you?”

“Yeah, he’ll never say a proper thank you. He’s a bastard like that sometimes. But you could have let him die.” He seems nervous, you have no idea why. Maybe Ghost didn't want anyone to know he let his guard down. Probably not the best look that a seasoned SAS soldier can get jumped so easily.

“No I couldn’t. Then you would have killed me.” You smile at him and head down the stairs.

Maybe you should have let him die, and run. Where though? Back to Konni? To Al Qatala? You shake your head pushing the thoughts away. You'll patch Price up then you’ll part ways. No need for you to stick around longer than you need to. Fuck the asylum in the UK, you don’t believe that would happen anyway.

Ghost is not around but Soap follows you down the stairs and Gaz is sitting on the coffee table talking with Price. He goes silent when he turns to see you, standing up and moving behind the sofa. His eyes dig into you. You swallow the nerves going over to the bag you dumped down when you came in.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask him one last time. He looks up and nods.

“It’s worse to leave it in, right?” Price asks.

“Yes and no. It’s going to hurt. There’s no anesthetic.” You say gripping the handle on the bag.

“I’ve been through worse.”

“Cap, are you sure?” Gaz leans down to whisper next to his head. You feel like you’re interrupting something.

“If you need time-” You don’t get time to finish. “No. I’m ready.” Price says sitting up straighter on the sofa. “It’s fine Gaz.” He waves the other man away but he doesn’t move, just stands back up crossing his arms.

“Take your shirt off and lie down.” You say putting the bag on the coffee table and bending down next to the sofa.

“Do you need a chair or somthin’?” Soap asks, you turn to him and shake your head. He smiles. You look through the bag, you think you have everything. You recognise everything, you managed to grab a lot. But you only have 2 pairs of sterile gloves, which means you only have 2 chances to get this right. You will get it right though.

Gaz helps Price take his shirt off, you look at the bandage on his stomach. Now you’re calmer, getting a better look at it, it’s not as central as you thought it was.

“Did you have a vest on?” You ask.

“Yeah, went right through.” Price says as he lays back on the sofa.

“You’re lucky the bullet didn’t shatter.” You press on his side where he showed you yesterday, it's starting to bruise. It really must be closer to the surface then you think.

“Lucky the guy missed.”

“Some would argue he didn’t miss.” You say, tipping your head and turning back to the coffee table. You lay out your instruments, double checking everything. What should you be worried about? You think to yourself. It’s been years since you’ve done something like this on a dummy let alone a real person.

Shock, he could go into shock if the pain is too much. He’s fit and healthy, well other than the hole in his stomach.

“I can take the bullet out and stitch both the wounds. What would you like me to do first?”

“Which will hurt less?” He asks scoffing. There’s the nerves, the break in his demeanor. You ignore it, you’d be shitting yourself too. You don’t really know how to answer that. The stitches will have to be deeper on the entry wound, but would that be more or less painful then slicing his skin open and fishing around for a bullet?

“They’re both going to hurt,” you say, it’s the truth. He sighs looking behind you at Soap.

“Stitch the entry wound first.” A gruff voice behind you says. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Ghost. Price nods and you kneel up pulling the bandages off. As you begin to undo the tape fresh blood drips out and you need to reach over to start dabbing it up. Before you take the steri-strips off you lay out your sterile gloves and reach into the bag for one more thing.

“Here.” You hand him some wooden tongue depressors. “In case you need to bite down on something.” He takes them, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m tougher than you think.” he says.

“It’s not about being tough.” You snap back. Now your nerves are showing, you take a breath. “It’s so you don’t bite your fucking tongue off and bleed out.”

He nods. You start pulling the sterile gloves on. You can do this, it’s just stitches, you've done this before, you can do it again. You turn back over to him resting the tray on his chest and pulling the last of the bandage off. It would be easier if you had 2 people, you don’t want to ask any of them for help, besides you need them around to keep an eye on him. You take one last breath getting comfy on your knees.

“Ready?” You ask turning to look up at him.

“Ready.” He says. You angle the needle squeezing the tweezers in your hands. Now or never. You say to yourself and plunge the needle into the skin.

He lasts longer than you thought he would before he makes his first audible groans. You snap to look up at him quickly when you’re done with the next pass. His eyes are squeezed closed, sweat building on his forehead.

“Almost done.” You lie mopping the blood escaping from the fresh wounds. He’s going to need at least 6 more stitches before you can tie this off. It came back to you in an instant, as soon as you made the first pass through. It’s like riding a bike you never really forget.

“Want to take a break?” Gaz asks.

“No.” He grits through his teeth. Good, stopping now wouldn't be smart, you’re over half-way done.

“You can have a break when I'm done.” You say passing the needle though again. It’s not perfect but it will hold, paired with the bandages it’s all he needs until he can get to a proper medic or a hospital.

“Would kill for a whisky.” He says trying to keep still. That makes you smile. At least he’s still joking, talking. At least he's conscious. You feel like you can hear people shuffling uncomfortably behind you, hushed voices you’re not paying attention to as you concentrate. You’ve been biting the inside of your cheek trying not to show your true nerves, you hope they can’t tell.

“Almost done.” You assure him.

“You keep saying that.” He says, his breathing picks up. This is going to be the worst part, you saved it till last. You speed up as much as you dare, you want to get this over with before he starts to freak out. You don’t like how shallow his breathing has become.

“Last stitch.” You say pushing the needle through the skin one more time. You let out an audible sigh of relief as you reach over for the scissors. “Done.” It’s all you can manage. You tie off the tread sitting back on your knees. It’s done. You look over at him, his eyes open again his head tipped back against the sofa pillow.

You reach over for the bandages and dress the wound. You get up to your feet.

“Take a break, maybe get something to drink. Water.” You say, swallowing the nerves rising in you. You need to clear your head. You need fresh air. You make a b-line for the front door pulling your gloves off as you pull it open letting the cool night air hit you.

You feel sick bending over and bracing your hands on your thighs.

“Holy shit.” You say pushing as much air out your lungs as you can. That really just happened. You just stitched up a fucking SAS officer with no ansathetic. And you’re still not done, he still has a bullet in him.

The door opens making you jump. You straighten yourself up crossing your arms as goosebumps rise on your skin. You turn to look, it’s Ghost. He hands you a bottle of water.

“Thanks.” You say reaching out and opening it.

“You did good.” He says after you’ve taken a few sips.

“It’s just stitches.” You say trying to not let your confidence falter. Can’t have them losing confidence in you.

“Are you sure taking the bullet out of him is the best option?” He asks. You turn to look at him finishing the bottle.

“The bullet could move if he does, it could hit an organ, cause internal bleeding. It’s close to the surface though, it could just be stuck below the skin. I have no way of knowing until-” the word catches in your throat. “It’s safer to remove it.” You walk up to him and hand him the empty bottle, he nods.

When you get back in the building you’re surprised at how warm it is, you’d never noticed that until now. Price looks fine inspecting the bandage on his stomach.

“Looks good.” He says. He seems perked up. Gaz looks like he hasn’t moved although now he’s holding a glass of water.

“Thanks.” You say cleaning up the stuff you’ve used and setting up the new stuff you need. The scalpel seems heavy in your hand for some reason. Your mind wonders the one upstairs.

“Ready?” You ask looking up at Price again.

“This one should hurt less right?” You squirt alcohol solution over the sight. It’s better than nothing.

“Yes.” You say pulling a mask over your nose and mouth. Maybe if he believes it it will hurt less, like a placebo effect or whatever they call it. You pull the sterile gloves on and pick up the scalpel. You let out a breath looking down at the skin.

This is not going to be fun.

“Hey.” John calls, you look up at him. “Don’t look so nervous, what's the worst that could happen.”

He could die.

“I’m not nervous.” You bring the blade down. “It’s going to be hard, but try to keep still.”

You press the blade into the skin. A groan leaves his mouth, his head presses back into the sofa pillow again. You have to act fast, mopping up the blood as it spills out. You thought you’d cut deep enough but apparently not. You squeeze the skin fleeing for the bullet. It’s still there, it's not moved. You make another incision going deeper.

You’re through the fat and it must be stuck in the muscle. You reach over for your tweezers, using your other hand to try and isolate it.

“Christ.” Price says as you dig around.

“I know, I'm sorry. Slippery thing keeps moving.” You say frowning. You manage to find it reaching for the clamp, if you can keep it still you can cut down to it.

“Got it.” You say after a few seconds of poking around. Thank god you don’t have to dig much deeper. You take the tweezers and pull it out. “Look.”

Price looks up, when he sees it he smiles.

“Free souvenir.” Soap says. You reach around dropping it with the tweezers on the coffee table. Now you just need to stitch this up. Easier said than done.

“How’d you learn to do all this if you’re not a doctor?” Price asks, you're surprised he's talking. He looks more relaxed, you look up, he's squeezing Gaz’s hand. Poor Gaz.

“I would hang out in the skills labs with the surgical interns when I was at the hospital. My father would be in surgery, my mother working. They would teach me. I used to enjoy it as a kid, playing with fake skin watching them work.”

“What happened? Why did you move away from medicine?” Gaz asks. “I got bored, wanted to do something other than be stuck in a hospital all my life.” You look up at him, he hasn’t moved. “I saw how hard my parents worked. I didn't want a life like that.”

“Is smuggling easier?” Price asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No but it's more fun.” You hear Gaz scoff, he drops Price’s hand crossing his arms, he hasn't moved but he hasn't taken his eyes off you either.

“Ever thought about the army?” Price asks. You laugh, shaking your head.

“I don’t like being tied down. I’m not into all those rules.”

“I think you’d do good.” “I think it's all bullshit.” You say trying to not snap. You focus on your stitching, you can’t get it out of your head though. Like the military is so great.

“Where’s your rescue anyway? I would have thought the UK would be desperate to get 4 SAS out of here.” No one says anything. You look up at Gaz, then over at Price.

“We’re helping Farah.” Soap says.

“Ah, that makes sense. They’re classed as a terrorist organisation right?” You look over at Price, he nods. You’re almost done, you wipe the blood away reaching over for the scissors.

“Why do you need to get into Russia if you’re helping Farah?” No one says anything. You sigh, tying off the thread. “I can’t help you if I don’t know why.”

“I thought you didn’t like to know details.” Ghost says.

“We need to find Alex first.” Price says. You pull your gloves and mask off bandaging up his wound.

“If you lost him on the border Konni will have him.” You say as a matter of fact. Standing up and picking up the trash. No one is saying anything, you throw it in the bin.

“You work for Konni right? Your last job was for them?” Price asks, sitting up on the sofa.

“Yeah, well, not anymore. Thanks by the way I wasn’t really in the mood to be getting an ear full from Makarov this week.” You stand back up looking round the room. They look different, shocked, all the colour has drained from Price’s face.

“Makarov?” He asks.

“Yeah. I mean he’s in town for something. Like I said I don’t ask, but whatever it is it’s important. Those people you killed were important.” You look round the room.

“Holy shit. You’re after Makarov.” You say as a matter of fact. No one says anything. You scoff picking the bag up off the table and throwing it over your shoulder. You shake your head again. “Look I hate to be the bringer of bad news but even if I could get you over the border. There is no way on earth you’re getting into Konni’s compound.”

“We don’t need to get inside anymore.” Price says. He stands up with a groan, pressing his hand on the side of his stomach. Gaz’s eyes follow him, his hands coming out to support him. You want to tell him to sit down. He needs to rest.

“You work for whoever pays right? How about a job so big you could retire.” Price says taking an unsteady step towards you. You swallow hard, not sure what he’s about to say.

“Help us kill Makarov and you can name your price.” He says smiling. You frown at him and shake your head.

“You’re out of your mind. What can I do?” You drop the bag and throw your hands up. “I’m not an assassin. I don’t kill people for fun.”

“Yeah, I know that. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to kill us, flee. What stopped you?” He asks, taking another step. You freeze, you’re not sure. You don’t kill in cold blood, you’ve always told yourself that. Self preservation, that's what it is.

You could have let Ghost die. Let him die in the vets and run back to the border, told Konni about them, they would have been captured but you didn't. Maybe you believed them when they said they could get you out.

Maybe you trust them.

“I think you’re better than all this. You want peace in your country, you want the war to end. You need to pick a side to do that.” He reaches behind you, someone passes him something. You don’t turn, you're nervous all of a sudden. Maybe they’re about to kill you. Making you lower your guard so you’re an easier target.

He brings the object into view. It’s the scalpel, the same one you hid in the bed.

“I think it’s time you pick a side.” He holds it out for you to take. You could take it from him right now and slit his throat. How did they even find it? Shit. Soap must have seen you. You look up at him, he has a smile on his face. He already knows what you’re going to do. You reach out and take the scalpel.

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insanechayne · 1 year ago

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~ ~ ~

#progress isn’t linear but today feels like I’m going backwards #I miss you wanting me as much as I wanted you #I miss the passion and desire and how we seemed to need each other in those moments #I miss the person you used to be back then #all I want right now is your arms around me like the old days #times like this it feels like I’ll never fully be rid of you or able to cut these feelings out of my chest #I don’t know how to move on when I keep going back to this #I don’t know how not to be attached to you or check here for you constantly #and I hate how these feelings just wreck my whole mood and keep me feeling so needy still #you’re so lucky you can turn these feelings off so easily #I wish I could do the same #personal

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what’s mine is yours

synopsis. suguru is a good best friend—he shares everything. just this once, he shares you too

word count. 2.1k (it's short i promise)

contents. fem! reader, reader is suguru's girlfriend, minors do not interact, virgin satoru <3, cuckolding, fingering, safe sex (who am i ?? jk suguru would not let satoru hit raw lol), petnames (princess, baby, and sweetheart), suguru teaching satoru how to fuck <3

notes. dash pls look away. i am horny at 1 am

satoru, for all his big talk and loud front all these years, is still a virgin. suguru finds it a tad bit funny—but out of the kindness of his heart, he decides to help his best friend change that.

how? you, of course.

“be careful how you handle her,” suguru says with a sly smile, “she’s still my girlfriend—and i have to take care of her. isn’t that right, baby?” his gaze turns to you, finger stroking your cheek gently as you whimper.

“so wet,” satoru mumbles, fingers sinking curiously into your dripping cunt, flexing slowly to pump in and out of you as you whine. his fingers are long, maybe longer than suguru’s—but not nearly as skilled.

“yeah?” suguru chuckles, “bet you like that, huh? careful though, satoru—don’t get used to this. she’s still mine.”

suguru, the ever gracious best friend, has always been one to share. he decides perhaps he can extend the favor to include his girlfriend too—but you’re precious, sweet and kind and oh so doting. he can’t share you permanently. no, it’s a one time thing—after that, satoru will have to find his own perfect little pussy to savor.

“you really get all of this? all to yourself?” satoru marvels, thumbing your clit as you gasp, your hand reaching over to clutch at suguru’s pants. his hand rests over yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles as he hums soothingly.

“yeah,” your boyfriend grins, “every day. whenever i want. right, baby?”

“uh huh,” you nod—and then you cut yourself off with a squeal when satoru’s fingertips brush against that sweet spot deep within your walls, making you flutter around him with a tight squeeze. he doesn’t find it as easily as suguru, doesn’t know how to angle and curl the tips of his fingers when he sinks into you.

and fuck, satoru thinks, suguru is so damn lucky.

“she’s a vocal one,” he chuckles, “you’ve been living the dream.”

“you should hear her when you use your mouth,” suguru chuckles—how embarrassing. you want to crawl onto his lap and hide away in his neck, hide away from satoru’s eyes that are watching you so carefully. satoru has good eyes—the best, even.

but you also like it. for some reason, when his eyes stare down at you with a darkened shade of blue you’ve never seen before, you feel the slick pooling from your core, smearing down your thighs and glossing over his fingers, wetter than ever.

satoru has that effect on people—even if he is a bit inexperienced.

“do i get to do that too?” he asks, sending your boyfriend a lopsided smirk.

suguru raises a brow, tightening his hand’s grip on yours before grunting a low, “don’t get ahead of yourself, satoru.”

“you said it yourself, suguru,” he chuckles, “what’s mine is yours.”

“not her,” suguru growls. and then, sweetly, he turns to you before pecking your forehead with a gentleness he keeps for only you. “you ready, princess?”

“princess,” satoru repeats thoughtfully, “yeah i guess you’re a bit of a princess, aren’t ya?”

“p-please,” you sniffle, tugging on suguru’s wrist, “need more, sugu.”

“yeah? he’s not doing his job, is he?” suguru pouts in sympathy, but his eyes are laced with amusement—like he’s enjoying the show in front of him. you’re sure he is, if the throbbing erection he sports is of any hint.

“hey,” satoru gasps, wounded, “i’m doing exactly what you told me—”

“here,” suguru throws him a condom, cutting him off, “put that on. you’re out of your mind if you think you’re feeling her. that’s only for me.”

“fine,” satoru huffs. you watch as he rolls the condom over his neglected cock—it’s red, swollen and aching, flushed at the tip and drooling with pre cum as he hisses when his hand wraps around it.

it’s pretty, you’ll give him that. satoru isn’t as thick as suguru, but he makes up for it by being a bit longer. he curves a bit with a thick vein running along the underside of his cock, balls heavy as they hang painfully, achingly full. he’s neatly trimmed—messy white strands of hair unlike suguru’s dark ones. you don’t know which one you prefer, if you could even pick one of you had to.

you watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his mouth parts with a low gasp when he accidentally teases the tip a bit as he clumsily works the rubber over himself. he’s sensitive at the head—just like suguru. gives those sweet little breathy whimpers when his slit is thumbed at. it’s cute, you think, maybe not as cute as suguru—but it’s still pretty adorable.

“go slow when you go in,” suguru warns, “if you hurt her, i’ll kill you.”

“she’s tough, she can take it,” satoru pats your cheek with a sly grin, “aren’t you, princess?”

“watch it, satoru,” you hear suguru growl, “don’t get too comfortable.”

“aw, it’s all in good fun, right? she’s taking it so well.”

you do take it well—you let satoru’s fingers play with your for ages, let him learn where to find that sensitive spot is in the back of your walls, let him rub your clit slowly—even if you ache for those fast circles suguru always gifts you with. and now, you’re even letting him slide into you, slowly but surely, inching his hardened cock into your impatiently wet cunt with agonizing patience.

“that feel good, baby?” suguru asks you once satoru’s buried to the hilt, splitting you almost in two as you breathe unevenly and nod. and satoru? well, he’s not faring any better—grit teeth and clenched jaw, panting harshly as he focuses on not cumming right then and there.

you’re tight—way tighter than his hand, and way warmer too. fuck suguru for making him wear the condom, and fuck suguru for landing such a perfect pussy too. he doesn’t know how he’s meant to go back to using his fist after a taste of this.

“you can move now—go slow at first, and then go faster when she’s close. she likes that. and don’t forget this,” suguru’s hand travels to your clit, giving a soft little pat that makes you whimper before he rubs it with those quick circles you love so much. “she likes when you touch this too. they all do—so when you get yourself your own girl to fuck, make sure you remember that.”

“i know what the clit is,” satoru grumbles, “i’ve watched porn, y’know.”

“i bet,” suguru chuckles, “is this your first time seeing a clit in person? pretty, isn’t it? everything about her is pretty.”

“suguru,” you whine in embarrassment, burying your head back into the pillow as much as you can, “you talk so much.”

“baby,” he insists, “someone has to humble him. he’s all bark and no bite.”

“i can too bite,” satoru grunts—and to prove it, he angles his hips to pull out, almost completely, before thrusting back into you. you cry out—clutching suguru’s hand tightly as your tits bounce. satoru let’s out a choked moan, gasping as you squeeze around his sensitive cock, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure.

it’s so good. suguru has it so good. you’re so good—perfect, even.

“f-fuck, more, need more,” you sob, and because suguru can’t help himself, his hand grabs at your tit, pinching and tugging at your nipple as he lets you squeeze his other hand in yours. “please, please—faster.”

“you heard her,” suguru hums, “she needs it faster.”

satoru’s good at fucking you—for his first time, he’s got your back arching and toes curling rather quickly. the blunt head of his cock brushes against your sweet spot with ease, long and curved enough to nudge against it with every roll of his hips. of course, no one knows how to fuck you until you see stars like suguru—but he comes to a close second.

your gasps have turned into long, wanton moans, and satoru moans in sync, head falling next to yours on the pillow as his breath fans over your shoulder with every harsh pant. his hips are rutting into you, slamming desperately as he feels you squeeze around him with every deep thrust. you can hear the squelching sound of your arousal as he bullies into your dripping cunt, smeared along the insides of your thighs. it’s messy, it’s rushed, it’s desperate and it feels so, so good.

satoru has never felt this good—and you? well….you have to admit you’ve never felt like this before either. it’s new, maybe not better, but certainly not worse.

“oh, fuck,” satoru groans, voice cracking as he whines against your shoulder, “f-fuck your so tight—‘s so good. so, so good….’m not g-gonna last much longer.”

“are you close, baby?” suguru strokes your cheek, watching as your eyes squeeze and your face twists in pleasure, “can’t have him be the only one cumming. that’s no good.”

“close! ‘m…’m so close, sugu. gonna cum,” you gasp as you nod.

if satoru wasn’t so lost on the feeling of your tight walls constricting around him, fluttering so perfectly that he almost feels like he can’t move, he might have protested that you addressed suguru and not him—he’s the one fucking you after all. it should be him you’re telling that you’re close, not your boyfriend. just because suguru is your boyfriend doesn’t mean he’s the one who gets to bear the reward for making you cum.

right now, that’s satoru.

“aw c’mon, sweetheart, you’re gonna—o-oh, shit,” he cuts himself off with a breathy moan, “you’re gonna make me cry. say my name too, yeah?”

“satoru,” suguru warns lowly.

“see? jus’ like that. yeah, pretty? say it just how suguru did,” satoru, murmurs against your ear, biting your earlobe softly.

your hand, much to suguru’s dismay, tugs from his grasp so your arms can wrap around satoru’s neck and cling to his large figure as he towers over you, fucking you mercilessly. his pace is frenzied now—that steady ache building up in his throbbing length is about to burst, and that coil in your belly feels like it’ll snap any second too.

“s-satoru, please—‘m c-close, so close,” you mewl, “wanna cum.”

he grins, blue eyes raking over your body as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harshly over it in that way you’ve been craving.

“yeah? you close, pretty? ‘s good to hear. i am too,” he murmurs lowly, finishing the sentence off with a shaky gasp as you squeeze around him.

and then you fall over the edge—he sends you hurtling into your high before you can ever register it. it’s new, satoru thinks—it makes his hips stutter for a second when he feels you spasm around his cock like that, sucking him in and squeezing around him enough that he chokes on a whimper and cums right then and there too. he thinks it’s a miracle he held out just long enough to cum after you, thanking anyone who’s listened to his prayers of lasting. it’s almost impossible not to finish immediately with how your walls hug around his length.

by now, his hips have lost any rhythm they might’ve had before, sloppily rutting into you as he desperately rides out his orgasm, thick ropes of cum spilling into the condom that separates him from fully feeling your warmth. he’s sensitive—his cock is throbbing even as he lets go of that built up tension in the form of white, hot release. you milk him until he’s almost certain he’s got nothing left to give, dry and worn out from the way you pulse so harshly around him.

“so good—m-make me feel so good,” satoru breathes in wonder as he finishes, thumb slowing itself along your clit before his body slumps over yours.

it’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s a mess of limbs as he rests over you, still quivering over your body from the aftershocks of his orgasm. it’s earth shattering—how you make him feel. has he really been missing out on this all this time?

“you’re heavy,” you grumble, patting at his shoulder. he chuckles into your neck, catching his breath.

“yeah? heavier than suguru?”

“i’m careful enough to collapse next to her,” suguru mutters from the side.

“fuck, that was amazing,” satoru rolls over, sprawling himself on the mattress next to you, chest heaving as he breathes, “i see why suguru spoils you so much. you keep him happy, huh?”

“oh yes,” suguru drawls, eyes narrowing. gently, he grabs your wrist and tugs at you, making you sit up as you eye the bulge in his pants and the large wet spot of pre cum staining the fabric. “you’ll see just how happy she makes me in a second here—she’s good with her mouth too.”

idk what possessed me to write this i rly don't. all i know is i want them both carnally

NO PART TWO — please STOP commenting that

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flwrstqr · 4 months ago

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୨୧ ❛ ENHYPEN HYUNG LINE REACTION WHEN YOU CALL THEM A PETNAME IN FRONT OF THEIR MEMBERS

﹙ 𝓹𝐥𝐨𝐭 ♡𝓹𝐫é𝐜𝐢𝐬 enha hyung line x fem!r. 𖥔fluff, headcanons ot7 works one shot wordcount` 700. 𓈃 ◌⠀⠀˖ 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐕𝐄 𓏵⠀

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 (이희승)

heeseung’s eyes widen in surprise when you casually call him “baby” in front of the other members. his cheeks immediately flush a soft pink as he glances around, hoping no one heard. unfortunately, sunghoon smirks and jake lets out a teasing whistle, while jungwon raises an eyebrow in amusement. "did you just...?" heeseung stammers, scratching the back of his neck, trying to play it cool but clearly flustered. you smile sweetly at him, completely unbothered. “what? you are my baby,” you tease, making him groan softly in embarrassment. "not in front of the guys," he mutters, voice low, though the shy smile tugging at his lips betrays his true feelings. despite the teasing, you can tell he secretly loves it. the other members keep poking fun at him, but heeseung just leans in closer to you, whispering, “you’re lucky i love you.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 (박종성)

jay freezes for a second when you call him “love” in front of the members. his ears turn a little red, but he quickly recovers, trying to play it off coolly. "did you just call him love?" sunoo snickers, and niki grins widely. jay shoots them a half-hearted glare but can’t hide the small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “what? she’s allowed to,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a hint of softness in his voice. you giggle, leaning closer to him, “you like it, don’t you, love?” his face turns even redder, and he sighs, covering his face with his hand, but you catch the way his eyes sparkle behind them. “maybe,” he mutters under his breath, clearly enjoying the attention despite his embarrassment. the members keep teasing him, but jay just wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as if to say he doesn’t mind at all.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 (심재윤)

jake’s eyes light up instantly when you casually call him “baby” in front of the members. he flashes you his signature bright smile, completely unfazed, but the guys aren’t about to let it slide. “baby, huh?” sunghoon teases, raising an eyebrow, while heeseung lets out a playful laugh. jake just grins wider, clearly loving the attention. “yeah, what about it?” he says confidently, giving you a quick wink that makes your heart flutter. you can’t help but giggle at how easily he handles the teasing. “so cheesy,” jungwon chuckles, shaking his head. jake shrugs, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. “i don’t care, i like it,” he says, his voice warm and genuine. you blush at his boldness, and despite the teasing, the other members smile at how happy he looks, knowing he’s completely smitten.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 (박성훈)

sunghoon freezes the moment you call him “babe” in front of the members, his eyes going wide as he processes what just happened. jay is the first to snicker, followed by niki, who barely holds back a laugh. “did you just call him babe?” sunoo teases, a grin spreading across his face. sunghoon’s ears turn bright red, and he stammers, “wh-what? no—i mean, yes, but…” he’s clearly flustered, trying to avoid the members’ teasing looks, but you can see the hint of a shy smile forming. “you don’t like it?” you ask innocently, leaning closer. he glances at you, cheeks still flushed, and mutters, “i didn’t say that.” despite the embarrassment, he softly bumps his shoulder against yours, as if to let you know he secretly enjoys it. the members continue to tease him, but sunghoon stays close to you, trying to hide his blush but clearly loving every second of it.

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sushiyuzu · 4 months ago

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personal transport

warning: fluff + pet name — grumpy!sylus giving you a piggyback ride while you braid his hair.

dragon's heart (sylus fanfic book)

- backup acc: @blushpawss

after a long day of walking around, your feet are absolutely killing you. you try to keep up with sylus, but every step feels like you’re walking on nails. finally, you can’t take it anymore, and you let out a loud, dramatic sigh, catching his attention.

“my feet are killing me,” you groan, rubbing your legs for emphasis. “i don’t think i can walk any further.”

sylus turns his head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “you should have worn better shoes,” he says, always so practical. but there’s a teasing tone in his voice, like he’s already predicting what you’re about to ask.

“well, i didn’t know we were going on an all-day trek!” you huff. “and you, with your stupid long legs, making it worse.”

he smirks but doesn’t say anything. instead, he stops walking and crouches down in front of you, looking over his shoulder. “get on.”

you blink at him, surprised. “what?”

“get on,” he repeats, still crouched. “unless you want to keep limping behind me.”

“oh my god, sylus,” you giggle, feeling both embarrassed and flustered. “you’re not serious.”

“completely serious,” he replies, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. “if you’re too stubborn to admit you can’t keep up, i’ll carry you. hop on, kitten.”

the nickname catches you off guard, and you can’t help but laugh. “kitten? really?”

“do you want the ride or not?” he asks, his voice deadpan, though the slight quirk of his lips betrays his humor.

rolling your eyes, but secretly a little excited, you step closer and carefully climb onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck. he easily lifts you as if you weigh nothing, his strong hands gripping your legs to keep you steady.

“you’re ridiculously strong,” you mumble, resting your chin on his shoulder. “i could get used to this.”

“don’t,” he says, though there’s a trace of warmth in his tone. “you’ll start expecting it every time.”

“maybe i will,” you tease, pressing your cheek against his cool silver hair. “you’d never say no to me.”

he lets out a small chuckle—so quiet you almost miss it—but you can feel the vibration of it under your hands. “don’t get cocky, kitten.”

the walk continues, much easier now that you’re off your feet. you find yourself enjoying the feeling of being close to him, his steady footsteps making you feel secure. you bury your face in his hair, taking in the scent of him, a mix of something clean and woodsy.

“comfy?” he asks, his voice low and teasing.

“very,” you reply, settling in against him. after a moment of silence, you get a mischievous idea. “hey, sy…”

“hmm?”

“can i braid your hair while you walk?”

sylus tilts his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder. “braid my hair? while i’m carrying you?”

you nod enthusiastically, fingers already reaching for the soft strands of his silver hair. “yeah! it’ll look good, i promise.”

he lets out a long sigh but doesn’t object. “fine. but if it looks terrible, i’m shaving it off.”

you laugh softly at his empty threat, already parting his hair into sections. “don’t worry, i’m a pro.”

as you work, you can feel sylus’s steady pace beneath you, his strong back supporting you with ease. you’re surprisingly comfortable, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder as your fingers skillfully braid his hair. it’s soft and cool between your fingers, and you can’t help but enjoy the closeness of the moment, even if he’s pretending not to care.

“you know,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence, “you make a pretty good pack mule.”

sylus huffs out a quiet laugh. “you’re lucky i’m letting you get away with that.”

“aww, come on, sy. you love carrying me.”

“yeah, sure,” he replies dryly. “it’s the highlight of my day.”

you giggle as you finish the braid, tying it off at the end. “there, all done. you look amazing.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, but you notice his shoulders relax a little under your hands. “do i?”

“yup,” you say, admiring your handiwork. “stylish and practical.”

“if you say so,” sylus mutters, though there’s no missing the slight warmth in his voice. he continues walking, the cool evening air brushing past both of you. you rest your cheek against his back, enjoying the comfortable silence that settles between you. despite his gruff attitude, you can tell he doesn’t mind the braid as much as he pretends to.

“you know, i could really get used to this,” you mumble, closing your eyes as you relax against him. “being carried around, braiding your hair… it’s nice.”

“don’t get too comfortable,” he warns, though there’s no real edge to his tone. “you’re walking on your own tomorrow.”

“we’ll see about that,” you tease, tightening your hold around his neck just a little. “i think you like being my personal transport.”

“keep talking, and i might drop you,” he replies, but his hands grip your legs a little tighter, making sure you’re secure.

you laugh softly, feeling the steady rhythm of his footsteps beneath you. and despite the teasing, despite his usual grumpiness, there’s a warmth in the way he carries you, a silent comfort that only sylus could offer.

as the sun sets in the distance, casting a warm glow over the quiet streets, you smile to yourself, knowing that, no matter how much he complains, sylus wouldn’t let you down—literally or figuratively.

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glitchfiles · 1 year ago

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only 'til dawn. [ljn]

pairing ⋆ badboy!jeno x inexperienced/goodgirl!reader

wordcount ⋆ 2.7k+

warnings ⋆ SMUT MINORS DNI!!!, softdom!jeno, smoking, shotgunning, car sex, big dick jeno, corruption, praise, light degradation, oral (m receiving), cowgirl, spanking (once), light choking, creampie...

note ⋆ i had to leave this one in my drafts for some time first because i didn't want to upload two car sex fics in a row then i wanted to rewrite it then i couldn't be asked to do that fully... so yeah, enjoy :D

"fuck," jeno drawls out as his head lolls to the side, "you're shit at this." he chuckles at your feeble attempt to give him a blowjob.

you look up at him, he seems totally unphased by your attempts to get him off, even going as far as to fish a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. the scowl that forms on your brow shows how much it dents your pride; he smirks down at you tauntingly.

"open your mouth a little more." he places a cigarette between his lips and lights the end. "you don't mind if i smoke, right?" you roll your eyes, he could have asked before. at least he had the courtesy to wind the window down.

there was no reason for you to debase yourself like this, the whole situation is beyond demeaning. you’re on your knees in the back of jeno’s car, struggling to please him and now he’s having a smoke mid-head?!

it felt as if your jaw was about to unhinge at any moment, you didn’t know it could stretch this far. the girls in the videos made it look so easy, compared to them, the way you were slobbering all over his girth was far from sexy. not to mention how you were clumsily pumping the rest of his length. not to toot your own horn, but you picked things up easily, this was a whole different ballpark to academic work.

"you're too big," you whine. your lack of experience definitely didn't have anything to do with the shoddy head you were giving. how he was still hard was a wonder, you’re sure he’s seconds away from going flaccid.

normally, he would have put an end to the whole thing. it's not like he wasn't one text away from a few girls that could suck the soul out of him. however, considering how unsavoury his reputation was, the fact that you, the university’s golden girl, and much-revered student union president, were so eager to please him behind closed doors inflated his ego more than anything else could.

he couldn’t help but find humour in how ardently you refused to acknowledge him in public at times like this; if you spotted him on campus you looked the other way. but the moment he shot you a text, you were swooning and giggling, begging to meet up. so, here you were, in the dead of night, at the back of an empty parking lot a couple of miles away from campus.

“you’re lucky you have a patient teacher, i’m going to turn you into an expert!” jeno directs you between drags of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the windows as he laughs at you being unable to get the hang of it. saying you feel frustrated would be an understatement.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you sit up, finally admitting defeat and letting his heavy cock flop down against his abdomen. if jeno were a better person, he would have stopped you a few minutes ago, but you were so eager to please him and he loved the adorable pout on your lips and how your brows furrowed whenever you were exasperated.

"then what do you want to do?" you can think of a few things, but they would be super embarrassing to say. so, you refused to answer. he sighs before slotting his cigarette between his lips, leaving his hands free to pull you onto his lap.

"wanna try?" you don't know what possesses you, but you nod.

how bad can it be?

he taps the burnt end off, letting the ashes fall out the window before setting the cigarette between your lips. it feels childish to admit, but the fact that you had shared an indirect kiss makes you smile. this doesn't last long, though; after a short pull, you end up choking.

"god, that's awful!" you squeak as he belly laughs, only stopping when you hit his chest. all he's done tonight is tease you.

"i thought so too when i first tried." he soothes you, so as to not incur any more of your light-handed wrath. "why don't we start with some baby steps?"

you're unsure what he means until his large, rough hand is placed gently under your jaw and his thumb brushes over your lower lip, "open up for me, angel."

he takes a long drag before tilting his head to the side and filling your mouth with a thick cloud of smoke. you're not sure what this is, but it feels intimate. it feels as if he’s breathing life into you. your whole body warms and tingles, your head spins, and a fire lights in your core.

once his lungs are empty, he seals it with a kiss. it's slow and passionate. his hand slides round to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. maybe it’s the nicotine running through your veins, you feel lightheaded. you let him slip his tongue past your lips to dance around your own.

the sweet flavour of your strawberry lip balm he was used to intermingled with the bitterness of his cigarette. he can't help but groan at the fact you taste a lot more like him now.

the cigarette he's momentarily forgotten in his hand gets flicked away to burn to a butt somewhere on the tarmac outside. his now free hand comes to rest on your hip. it guides your body forwards, bringing your clothed centre flush against his bare cock.

you mewl into his mouth, he swallows down the sound. he’s greedy for more and starts rocking against you. grinding out then gulping down your noises, they go straight down to his cock. it’s throbbing, you can feel how painfully hard he is underneath you. only when he’s met with an uncomfortable stickiness due to his precum seeping through his shirt does he put an end to his gluttony.

a begrudging whine fills the car as he pulls your lips away from him. the look in his eyes alone was almost enough to make you cream, it was different to the cocky, yet lewd, eye fucking that seemed to be his default. those dark eyes of his turned into endless pits of boundless desire.

warm hands glide under your sweater, tugging it over your head, off your body to let it land somewhere in the front of his car. he does the same with his own shirt, sitting back to let you admire the rippling muscles on his torso. you delicately placed a hand on his chest, sliding it down to his abdomen; it seems he doesn’t have to have his dick in your mouth to have you drooling over him.

“like what you see, baby?” the smug look on his face makes your stomach twist.

“shut up,” you smash your lips against his again before he can speak again.

jeno rushes to unclasp your bra, pushing the fabric out of his way so he can knead at your breasts; not before long, his mouth leaves you to pepper kisses down your neck then it encloses around one of your pert nipples.

“mmm, jeno!” you mewl as his tongue laps at the bud, causing your back to arch in search of more stimulation. a hand weaves itself into his inky, thick locks, pushing him to give attention to the other side. “jeno, more!”

“i love hearing you say my name,” he growls against your chest, “wanted to hear you say it all week, but you don’t even spare me a glance unless i have my cock out.”

you ignore the slight bitterness in his tone focusing on how he nips at your skin, leaving dark marks he hopes will last until he next sees you. marks that he hopes others will see and know you belong to someone; you’ll probably chastise him later over text but he doesn’t care, anything to keep him on your mind like you're always on his.

reluctantly, he detaches himself from your chest and sits back, eyeing the drying traces of saliva he left with a dazed smile.

“what next? tell me.” his hands delicately caress your hips, your cheeks begin to heat up and you avoid his eye contact. “don’t act all coy now, where’s the girl that begged me to drive her out here and fuck her dumb?”

you were still clinging onto the last dregs of your virtuous good girl persona - the last white spots on a canvas he had first found unsullied. your first sin had been naivety, too easily seduced by a good-looking face and the sweet nothings he whispered in your ears but he had been more than happy to lengthen the list.

you wondered if this was how you had always been - or was he corrupting you. he broke down every conception you had of yourself and no one outside of the car you both sat in would believe this was you - you barely did yourself. some would say he was ruining you, but he’d never make you do something you didn’t want to, this was all you.

“please…” you let your head fall onto the crook of his neck, voice barely above a whisper. “want you inside.”

“a smart girl like you can be more descriptive than that.” he strokes a finger down your back, leaving a trail of heat on your spine, in hopes of prompting lewder vocabulary. you take a moment to chew your bottom lip and swallow down the last bit of dignity you had.

“please, fuck me.” you weep against the shell of his ear, “fill my pussy up, i need you so bad, jeno.”

“sound so pretty when you tell me what you want.” his low-toned praise makes you shiver as he flips your skirt up and raises your hips. he pushes your panties to the side to position his cock at your dripping entrance. taking a second to tease your slit, making sure to brush over your swollen clit, only to hold you still when your hips jerk forward.

“look at me, angel.” you perk up for him, “so beautiful,” he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear. his gaze holds yours firmly as he brings you down on his bulbous tip, stretching you out slowly.

you struggle to keep your eyes from shutting. your mouth hangs open letting out hushed gasps as you sink down an inch at a time. he thinks you’re the prettiest creature he’s ever laid eyes on.

“keep going... yeah, just like that... so good...” his soft gaze, light touch and encouraging words make things easier. he can feel your walls begin to relax and hungrily accept his girth.

“‘s so fucking big,” you wail out, not even having taken him fully. you couldn’t quite yet without his help, though you’ll get there eventually - he’d make sure of that.

“i know, baby, but you take me so well. can you move for me?” you nod shyly, lifting yourself and dropping back down as far as you can with a long whine. up and down, you split yourself open over and over.

jeno’s hands press into your flesh, silently encouraging you to take more of him. you work your hips faster, earning a deep groan from him as his head falls back. instinctively, your mouth attaches itself to his neck, mimicking the way he had kissed and sucked at your own earlier.

“for such a sweet, innocent girl, you sure do ride like a slut.” he breathily laughs as his hand comes down on your ass with a sounding slap. “like the way my cock stretches this tight cunt out.” there’s no hiding the way your walls clench at the sharp sting. you try to find refuge from your embarrassment by hiding your face in his shoulder, but he quickly takes ahold of your throat, forcing you to sit up straight.

“don’t hide from me,” he tells you warningly and squeezes your neck lightly. once again your eyes lock, his stare as intense as ever. your teeth sink into your bottom lip and you rest your hands on his strong chest, adopting a faster pace.

he lets out moans which you naturally reciprocate, however, you embellish yours with his name; you feel his cock twitch at the sound of it. the look in his eyes turns wild as his fingers dig deeper into the meat of your ass, forming a nearly bruising grip; with the other hand, he’s careful not to cut off airflow but forms a hold that leaves you feeling dizzy.

“you know exactly what you do to me.” he chuckles, “you were fucking made for me, made for taking my cock, weren’t you? yeah, so perfect, angel.”

your legs begin to shake, his words and his cock are quickly pushing you towards the pinnacle. you try your very best to work through the overwhelming pleasure and the ache in your thighs, wanting to get him off since you failed at sucking his dick. but you can't seem to power through it, tears well in your eyes as everything becomes too overwhelming, it's far too much.

“need help, baby?” his soft spot for you wins, “did such a good job for me. i’ll take care of you, make you cum all over my cock. want that?”

“please, need to cum so bad.” his hand leaves your neck and places itself and your other asscheek. he plants his feet firmly and then rams up into you.

your brain goes blank in an instant.

he’s deep. so deep. too deep!

you cry out, nails digging into his broad, muscular shoulders to anchor yourself. the tears that had threatened to leave your eyes before stream down your face, staining your cheeks. your whole body quivers as his cock lays kisses on your cervix with each thrust.

“jeno, oh my god, right there!” you practically scream. his face screws at the feeling of your walls constricting, getting tighter by the second and making it harder to move; he powers through by jackhammering into you with more force.

it feels like you could break at any moment, he's bouncing you on his cock like you're a ragdoll and you're too weak to do anything but take and enjoy it. all it takes is a few more thrusts before you’re creaming all over him. your body seizes as your eyes roll back, and his name tumbles from your lips incessantly in pleasured sobs.

it’s hard to keep you in one place as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, but he handles your squirming body with ease using his strength. the most ungodly wet squelches fill the car as he races towards his own release, your sticky mess clings to both of your thighs.

“shit… pussy’s sucking me in so deep, gonna cum.” his chest rises and falls dramatically, he can barely breathe. his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to paint your insides pearly white.

a heavy groan rips through him as his balls tighten, he nestles his cock nice and deep as he pours hot spurts of cum into you. he fills you with warmth; you feel complete for a moment. unfortunately, all good things must come to an end eventually.

you could almost start crying again when he pulls you off of him. his praise on how well you took his cum as it dribbles out of your cunt makes up for it, though. his tongue swipes across his lips as he watches it drip all over his cock, unbothered by the fact half of it is soiling his leather car seats too.

the sound of your wild breathing is all that fills the car for a moment until his lips find yours one last time. breathlessly kissing you, there is less vigour than before but just as much passion. your heart warms for a moment at the almost bashful smile on his face as he rests his forehead against yours and wipes the tears that still cling to your soft skin.

this feels right, perfect even, but it only takes a few words for him to fuck it all up.

“wanna come over to mine?” jeno regrets his words immediately, the expression on your face sour at the thought of someone spotting you walking into his dorm or one of his loud-mouthed roommates blabbering about you spending the night together.

give jeno a hand and he’ll end up taking the whole arm.

you pull away from him suddenly remembering who you are.

“don’t be ridiculous, you know i can’t even be caught dead with you.” you grimace at the mess between your legs as you reposition your panties; then, you search for the clothing he had strewn around the car.

you don’t even look at him when you demand him to. “just drop me off where you usually do.”

jeno grins even at your cold-hearted rejection. not just anyone could say they had a place between your legs; he’s sure he’ll have a place in your heart too soon enough…

★ thanks for reading! my inbox is open for feedback and requests! :3

#jeno smut #jeno hard hours #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct hard hours #📂 ..\ .◜◡◝

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emmyrosee · 2 years ago

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Bakugou is, for all intents and purposes, a massive baby.

God forbid you leave him for ten minutes before he starts wandering around the house looking for you. Mercy on you if you go out to the grocery store and don’t take him. And how dare you even consider get up to get a snack when he's in the bathroom, letting your shared spot get cold.

These things, he can not let go easily.

Naturally, this slips your mind every once in a while because a peaceful life with Bakugou Katsuki doesn't exist. When you forget, he makes it his mission to force you to remember his clingy ass.

Tonight, it would appear to be no different.

It's 02:30 when you snap back to reality, bleary eyes blinking to get your bearings back.

The lamp on the side table blinds you momentarily, there's music coming from the tv- credits, you deduce, from the show Denki had raved to you both about. When you angle your head up, you're met with a firm jawline that lets out a loud snore from the slight disturbance.

Katsuki never was good at staying awake during these things.

Smiling up at him, you're quick to place a tender little kiss on his chin, watching as the corners of his mouth twitches slightly. Gently, you slip out of his arms and cover him with the blanket, using the parted lips releasing the smallest little snores to ensure his slumber. He smacks his lips and turns slightly on his side, as if chasing the warmth you'd taken away, and you click the tv off to keep him in the dark. You shuffle your way into your bedroom to get your own rest; you shiver once you slip under the covers, the fabric cold from the lack of use and lack of Katsuki's body heat.

The minute you do warm up, however, you're out like a light, and you remain so for a few hours.

But then, there's someone at the end of your bed. You feel them, and it wakes you just barely. You shift the blankets higher on your shoulder for protection from whatever your subconsious picks up, and just when you feel normal, something speaks.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

The raspy voice coming from the foot of your bed is more than enough to snap you from your sleep, but it isn’t until you see the massive, bulky frame that your heart sinks and you scream, you scream as loud as you can, immediately scrambling to the corner of your bed.

“Stop screaming, it’s me.”

Your shaking hands immediately shoot to the lamp next to your bed and upon flicking it on, you’re greeted by a sleepy Katsuki, blanket around his shoulders and sleepy scowl on his face, as if you’re the one who just inconvenienced him.

“You freak! What are you doing!” You snap, quickly rubbing your eyes to knock the sleep from them to properly scold. He merely shrugs and smacks his tired lips, indifferent to the previous heart attack he’d given you.

“Left me alone on the couch,” he says, dropping the blanket onto the floor before crawling into bed next to you, casually. “We were snuggling. You abandoned me.”

“You-! I was-! Why-!”

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he says, burying his face into his pillow and making a grabby hand for you, “c’mere, wanna spoon.”

Your heart, still pounding in your chest, finally lets breaths of air in, your hands trembling as you flick back off the light. You’re still mad, now shaking with fury, and as you roll to have your back facing him, you try to take deep breaths to calm down and not smother the man you somehow chose to love with a pillow.

“Hey,” he grumbles, tugging your sleep shirt. “Come here.”

“I can’t fucking stand you, Katsuki. I don’t even want to be in the same bed as you right now, you scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “Jus’ wanted to be close to you.”

“And you thought threATENING ME AT THE END OF OUR BED WAS A GOOD WAY TO DO THAT?”

He goes silent, and you almost think he’s given up, and just as you blink your stinging eyes, he suddenly rolls on top of you, knocking the wind out of you at his heaviness.

“Katsuki!” You scold, but it’s shrouded in laughter, an absolute contrast of how you just were talking all of ten seconds ago.

“Now you can’t leave,” he says, cockily. “You wake me again and I will kill you.”

“You woke me up just now! You could’ve easily come to bed like any sane person!”

“….”

“Katsuki!”

“Cant hear you, I’m asleep.”

“KATSUKI!”

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

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Just a Little Touch

perv!eddie x innocent!plus size!reader

summary: Eddie touches you and you decide that it's far better than masturbation.

cw: MDNI (18+) masturbation, fingering

you can find part one here!

You haven't seen Eddie since you masturbated for the first time. You’ve honestly been avoiding him since you don’t want to admit that he had been part of your late night fantasies every night since. He’s perfect for it as you imagine him as the person who’s doing all the touching. It’s his fingers that are inside you. It’s his voice that encourages you with every pump of your fingers, telling you how pretty you look.

Now that you’ve started, you can’t seem to stop. You’ve been getting yourself off every night and you’re not sure why you hadn’t before. It definitely helps with your feelings towards Eddie and you’re so tired afterwards that it’s so easy for you to go to sleep afterwards. It’s a win-win in your book.

Eddie hates that you’ve been asleep every time that he’s walked past your trailer the past few nights. He’s been working later at the car shop since someone quit and even though he’s making more money, he hates that he has to miss seeing his pretty girl through her window. It’s his favorite part of the day and he’s wondering if being employee of the month for the third consecutive year is even worth it anymore.

But tonight, he’s lucky because he just so happens to walk past your window when he hears a loud moan coming from it. He peeps inside and sure enough, his favorite show is on. And you’re even prettier than before, as your back arches off the bed. Your hard nipples are poking through your thin tank top and Eddie feels drool pooling in his mouth as he thinks about how badly he wants to suck on them.

He seems to black out when he goes through with what he does next because one second, he’s outside, and the next, he’s crawling through your window. He drops to the floor with a loud thud and you’re pulled out of your trance, the moan that was about to spill from your mouth dying on your lips.

You immediately pull your hand from your paintes and stare at Eddie who’s already staring back at you in horror. He clearly didn’t think this through. He goes to leave when he sees how startled you are, but you get onto your knees on the bed and grab onto him, preventing him from going any further.

You turn him around to face you and slowly inch your slick covered fingers towards his mouth. He’s quick to open up and an involuntary moan falls from his lips as the slick drips onto his tongue. He licks and sucks on your fingers slowly, trying to savor the flavor as it’s easily the best thing he’s ever tasted.

You pull your fingers from his mouth with a loud pop and before you can register what’s happening, Eddie is pushing you down onto the bed, pinning you to it with his hands. His mouth finds yours in a hot kiss as one of his hands trails down to your sopping wet panties.

“Has anyone touched you like this?” Eddie asks against your lips and all you can do is whine in response.

“No,” you finally tell him and Eddie pulls back with a devilish grin.

“Do you want me to?” Truth be told, he’s never done this, but he’s read enough smut to know exactly how it’s done. Okay, and maybe he did some research as a form of manifestation that you’d let him. And clearly it worked because here he is.

“God, yes,” you breathe and Eddie smiles even wider as his fingers move back and forth across your slit causing another whine to fall from your lips.

“Eddie, please,” you beg and Eddie loves the sound of that. It’s even better than he imagined and now he thinks he’s going to have to hear it every day in order to survive. Somehow, he doesn’t think you’d have a problem with that.

He watches your face as he slowly pushes his fingers inside of you, a loud escaping you already and he’s barely down anything. Oh, he’s going to have so much fun with this.

You’re already soaked and all he can think about is licking his own fingers clean after he’s given you as many orgasms that you can manage and then he’s going to eat you out, fully intending on cleaning out every bit of slick from you because he’s only gotten one taste and he needs, craves more.

His fingers pick up the pace, moving a little faster, but that doesn’t seem to be good enough for you. He’s not going hard or deep enough. You want to feel his rings, the cold metal inside you. You want him to stretch you out to prepare you for his massive cock that he’s inevitably going to pound into you over and over until you can’t take it anymore.

“Harder,” you demand. “Faster.”

“As you wish, princess,” he nods and does exactly as he’s asked. He goes as hard and fast as he can, making sure to fit all of his fingers inside you since he’s sure that’s what you want. You grab onto his arms and give his biceps a squeeze, holding onto him for dear live as he fucks you with just his fingers.

“Eddie, oh my god,” you moan and Eddie’s sure he’s going to come just from hearing it. He watches your back arch as you moan again, your nipples on full display through your very thin t-shirt. God, you really are going to become a full course meal for him and fuck is he starving.

You’re reaching your orgasm but Eddie isn’t going to let up. He wants to see just how many times he can make you come from just his fingers. And you come with his fingers still inside of you, pumping as fast and hard as they can go. Your back arches again as you throw your head back. This orgasm is far better than any of the ones you were able to give yourself and now you’re convinced that you’re going to have to have him do this exact thing before you go to bed every night. Because there’s no way you can go back to masturbating when Eddie’s just given you the best orgasm of your life.

You look absolutely spent so Eddie removes his fingers and hovers them over your mouth and he moans as you lick and suck on them, removing every last drop of your slip from his digits. And once you’re done, he removes his fingers slowly then places himself on top of you, kissing you until you’re both breathless as he tells you that you’re his good girl. Yeah, there’s no way that either of you can sleep now.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #perv!eddie #perv!eddie x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader

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genderless-naper · 3 months ago

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give it your all

trafalgar law x bestfriend!reader

themes: modern college au, best friends, jealousy, confession, wall sex, slight body worship & cockwarming, no protection/pull out, female reader, 18+

after failing an exam, you confessed to law how jealous you were of his natural intelligence. in return, he accidentally reveals how much he wants you.

nsfw, smut, wc: 3k, lowercase intended!

you walked into your room with frustration radiating off you. you just finished a midterm exam, but none of the topics you studied for was actually on the test. you spent countless hours studying to get a good grade only to be doomed to fail. law was sitting at your desk doing his work. you found him in the same place you left him.

you threw your bag on the floor and crossed your arms. it was enough to catch law’s attention. he continued his work as he spoke up, “did it go well?”

the annoyance you had built up from starting the exam to getting back to your room was let out all at once, “that professor is such an asshole!! i swear it’s like they’re trying to set us up for failure. nothing they mentioned on the study guide was on the exam. it was talking about topics we didn’t even review in class!”

law placed his pen down, and swirled the chair so he faced your agitated figure, “you’re probably overthinking it. i’m sure you did great. i helped you study a lot last night, and you had all the concepts down.”

you groaned, “you’re not listening. surely i failed that midterm. nothing mentioned in class was on it.”

you rubbed your arm and felt a bit jealous of the man sitting in front of you, “i wish i was naturally smart like you…”

law tried to help you feel better, “don’t say that. you have lots of things going on for you.”

“like what?? failing a midterm i stayed up all night studying for?”

he cleared his throat and put more thoughtfulness into his replies, “it’s just a midterm y/n-ya. don’t beat yourself up about it. also i was mentioning other things your good at.” law paused to think of some of your strengths and virtues, “you’re great with people and super outgoing. you have like every guys on campus wrapped around your finger, and you go on dates all the time.”

you rolled your eyes, “that doesn’t mean anything though. i care more about failing my classes than stupid boys.”

law shrugged, “well it’s not fair in my eyes. i wish i could do that.”

you tilted your head, “you can do that though law. you just need to go out and find people you like talking to.”

“i wasn’t referencing you. i was referencing them.”

confusion led you to ask, “what do you mean by that.”

law answered without thinking through his response at all, “those guys you go on dates with get to have that side of you, and they don’t even realize how lucky they are.”

you paused for a minute to take in what he said. it was an accidental confession that law had no intention of letting out. you held his eye contact in an attempt to find out if he was telling the truth.

after a stretched out silence he cleared his throat, “i didn’t mean to say that. forget about it.”

you raised your brow. how could you just forget about it?

“how about you elaborate on that instead?”

law turned his back to you, trying to focus on the previous work, hoping the situation would disappear on its own. you, on the other hand, wouldn’t let it go so easily.

you walked to his seated figure, and reached over to shut his laptop. you turned his chair back to face you then leaned down while holding the arm wrests. laws golden eyes gazed into your intensively as he tried to understand what your motive was at that moment.

“elaborate.” was all he heard. he found it hard to form a verbal response especially when you pressed him so hard about it. he didn’t quite know what to tell you that also wouldn’t affect the friendship you two have built.

so he didn’t say anything. he kept quiet. you leaned down dangerously close to him while holding his gaze. he sighed in defeat knowing there wasn’t a way to escape you at that point. he decided to speak, partially because he was also over hiding how he felt about you, “it’s not fair that they get to have your interest like that. i’m the one that sits with you every night before your exams to help you study. i’m the one who gets you to do your work when you don’t want to. yet they’re the one’s you’re always interested in. i’m honestly over it y/n.”

law gets up from the chair and packs his things back into his bag. it seemed pointless to stick around anymore. he figured he ruined things enough.

“where do you think you’re going?” you grab his packed bag to throw it back to its original place on the floor. the fact that he thought he could leave after dropping a bomb like that infuriated you, “you don’t just get to do whatever you want to. you’re staying.”

you knew the chances of him actually listening were slim. you were determined to make sure he didn’t leave, so you walk towards him until he’s backed up against the wall.

law started to become mildly irritated. he didn’t understand why you were doing all of this. if you wanted to shame him for what he said then why pull these antics? just as he was about to object against your actions you spoke instead, “why haven’t you ever made a move then?”

law rubbed his temples as he responded, “why does that matter? it’s not like you’re interested anyways. you’re always eyeing other people that aren’t me.”

you immediately dismissed his response, “has the thought ever occurred to you that i probably do that because of you? you’ve never once showed any sign of romantic interest. how could i go after you if i didn’t know you wanted me??”

law’s eyebrows turned knitted as he dissected your statement in his mind. he was certain his ears deceived him, “are you saying..?”

at that point an increase of agitation grew within you. you soon realized that now would be the best time to take action. the likelihood of an opportunity like this happening again are slim. before you could mentally decide your words beat you to it, “do you want me to show you what i mean? clearly it’s too difficult for you to understand with just words.”

the bold statement heightened your heart rate, and could’ve sworn that the tattooed man before you could hear it as well.

it’s always difficult read law’s thoughts on normal circumstances, but right now it was clear to you that he only wanted you.

he let his hands travel and place themselves on your waist. in one swift motion he substituted his position against the wall with yours. before you could realize it was now you who was pressed against the wall. law’s towering golden gaze was fixed on examining you as if you were a research project he was being graded on. you simply knew he was determined to get full marks.

“let me show you instead. i’ve had to keep myself in check for so long just for you.”

you smirked as you pulled his collar down so his face was leveled with yours to respond, “give it your all then trafalgar.”

your green light what the exact thing the man was looking for. although he liked you, more than he’d admit, he never thought about the dirty things he’d do to you. he always suspected it was unlikely to occur.

yet here he was desperate to pull your clothes off like a starving animal.

soon he discarded your garments leaving you exposed to his eyes. the only items obstructing his view were your bra and panties. still the man wasted no time admiring your body. you allowed his hands to roam, to feel, to touch any part he desired. the freedom bestowed upon him anxiously thrilled him.

“you’re so gorgeous y/n, i could stare at you all day long..”

his breath was caught as his eyes were lost in your beauty.

he was unaware of how long he spent just starring at you until he saw that you seemed to be at a state of unease.

he leaned down to press his yearning lips against your collarbone. it was a sweet kiss, but powerful enough to send shivers down your spine.

as he made his way to your shoulder you lean close to his ear to speak, “take everything off already, please law..”

“give me a second to take you in y/n.”

and that’s exactly what he did until your patience for him started to run thin. it felt like fire was erupting off your skin. he was tormenting you with every second he put off.

his hands glided up the natural curve of your spine, and effortlessly unhooked your bra. you let it slip and hit the floor soon, following with your panties, and kicking them to the side.

law’s inked hand made its way to the front of your figure to explore the new region on display. he held your breast with care as he leaned down to lick your bud. he dragged his tongue over and over your nipple feeling it harden from his repeated actions. you rested your head against the wall permitting shallow breaths to leave you. law’s gentle grip eventually turns into grasping motions that squeezed at your tissue. he made sure to give the same attention to the other side by switching back and fourth. moments when he pulls back to catch his breath he whispered how in awe he was of your every minute detail. the praises that fell from his mouth drove your desire for the man to increase making you more impatient by the second.

finally satisfied with your captivating body he put to work with discarding his own clothes. when pulling off his shirt his muscles, inked by tattoos, would naturally flex giving you a show that was irresistible to look away from.

he shared your eye contact as he raised his hand to his mouth to lick his middle and ring finger. he held them together as he sentenced them to please you between your thighs. he placed them above your clit, applying standard pressure, and began to massage in circular motions.

the sudden gasp from your lips indicated to him of the pleasure being received from his fingers.

law chuckled because of your sudden reaction, “i’m barely touching you and you’re acting like this. should i go a bit harder-“ law simultaneously applied the indicated pressure, “or should i go faster y/n?” the man increased his circular haste. asking for your decision meant nothing to him at that moment. it could’ve been considered more of a warning than a question.

you tried your best to not let your moans get the best of you, but it was difficult when your mind could only focus on how good the man’s fingers felt. you hadn’t noticed his member rising with anticipation ready to make you a moaning mess.

law adjusted his motions to reach back and fourth to your hole. realizing his licked figured would ultimately serve no purpose because the wetness you exhibited was far more useful. he used it to his advantage in order to prepare you for what was yet to come.

he spoke in a low tone, “are you ready y/n-ya? lets get to the real fun already.”

you nodded fast agreeing with him. you were unsure how much more torture of the clit you could take before your orgasm engulfed you.

law averted his attention on his own growing discomfort. the member in desperate need of relief appeared swollen at the tip, and veins carved out the sides of his length. law pulled away his fingers from your clit to hooked a singular arm under your leg and keep it lifted. he held the leg up exposing your wet core, and pressed you harder against the wall with his body. his length naturally pressed up against your core, and was barely consumed in your folds.

he shifted his hips back and fourth to drag his member along your heat. he aimed to cover himself in your slick, so entering wouldn’t be such a task, and he could focus on what truly mattered.

you on the other hand was being driven by heightened arousal. you wanted nothing more than to be fucked into oblivion. exasperated from the situation, you decide to take the initiative. you reach to his hard member and position it to your hole. you push yourself down enough to fit the tip in.

the size of his member stretched your entrance more than you expected. he questioned if you were okay only to which you managed a hum. you were too busy biting down your lip to form a proper reply.

he motioned that he would soon start, to which you nod your head giving him another green light.

he passed his member in and through your walls. he felt your walls naturally squeeze his member, and the warmth increasing the blaze on his skin. he watched as you shut your eyes and meekly groan due to the unfamiliar length.

he paused his movements to let you regain your composure. law removed fallen strands of hair and tucked them behind your ear before speaking up, “you’re gonna do great y/n-ya. i’m gonna start, is that okay?” the man waited for your approval, which you happily gave, and started to rock his hips slowly. surely he wanted to pick up his pace, but he wanted you to adjust as well.

law felt unsettlingly sexually attracted to you. the slow pace he set eventually caused him to curse himself out in his mind. he wanted to pound you right then and there, but he just had to be so considerate of you. he figured the best thing to distract his mind, and so he pressed his like against yours. it was the first time he ever kissed you. he never predicted your first kiss would happen after he was balls deep in you.

your lips shared warmth, and it caused your bodies to further align. every slow thrust drew you both into a deeper and more passionate kiss. you two were in a war zone and the kiss served as paradise.

the natural depth of the kiss blurred the lines of sense in law’s mind. without realizing he responded to his body’s natural sexual thirst by feverishly picking up the pace of his hips. you had to pull away to voice out your pleasure through moans. your eyes squeezed themselves shut. he saw the pain, but also the pleasure. his forehead rested on the wall next to your head, and he grunted in your ear like a dog chasing a high that felt so far away.

no more holding him back. he pushed every regressed emotion felt into his thrusts. they hit you harshly like the force of a tsunami. at that moment you fully realized just how much law was holding back just for the sake of the friendship, and how much he simply didn’t care anymore.

the constant sensation of his member grazing your walls edged you closer to your climax, “fuck law, you feel so fucking good~”

his name rolling off your tongue in moans made him feel cockier than he should’ve been. the man that once dreamt of you every night that week was finally getting what he wanted. he wasn’t going to let any moment fleet away from him.

his thrusts, now set at a monstrous pace, forced you to your orgasm faster than you’d anticipated. your nails dug into his skin, and you vocalized your pleasure through your moans. although it was clear you had reached your goal and had no more reason for the continuous pace, law had no intention of stopping. law growled into your ear, “why do you feel so fucking good y/n~?”

he didn’t miss a beat. that is until he climax snapped like a twig. his white substance launched into you, and filled you up leaving you warm from within. it took a while for you to the catch your breaths. the sweat caused by the shared experience made you both feel sticky. you spoke up once you felt like you were no longer desperate for oxygen, “are you gonna pull out..?”

law looked at you through half-lidded eyes. it was clear his orgasm exhausted him. his own words felt like they blurred together, “just forget about it for now…” he kept his member fully inserted in your warm heat.

he used the last of his efforts to pick up your other leg. he carried you to your bed, and you both collapsed onto it. not once did his member withdraw from within you.the natural exhaustion you felt led you to doze off instantly. law was on the verge of following you before he was taken out of his own conscious.

the sound of a notification popping on your phone alerted him. he reached over and grabbed the phone to read what it was.

your midterm grade results had came back. curious of your results, law input your password in to check the grade. he smiled at the green box holding the ‘93%’ in it. he was glad to know you would wake up with good news.

he put the phone back down and tiredly whispered to your sleeping figure, “i told you that you would do well…”

masterlist

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houseofpsychoticwomxn · 10 days ago

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⋰ ⋱✮ minors dni — suggestive ✮ ⋰ ⋱

♡ notes; been thinking about davids clark since the trailer — movie not out until july be damned, i had to write something

⋰ ⋱✮

Clark Kent is easily amused, throwing on a little red lace was more than enough to get a blushed reaction out of him, happily crawling into his lap as soon as his laptop was out of the way.

Superman is harder to read, harder to get ahold of. the second he was in the suit he gained a determination even the passionate, mild-mannered journalist couldn’t grasp.

Of course it didn’t usually make much difference to you, only really seeing the superhero side of him on a screen or in the paper the next day, but it was intriguing. call it curiosity, fantasy, greed even — you couldn’t help but wonder if that side of the man you cared so deeply for was doing more than just protecting you. what if he was holding something back?

you worked up the courage to say something about it when the familiar headline came across the tv; Superman saves! he looked as charming as ever, smiling and waving at the crowd of cameras and heads surrounding him. he was looking right at the camera intentionally, like he was looking right at you.

the blue and red covering him accompanied by the still somehow well-kept hair looked better every time you saw it. the reporters lucky enough to be there were going on and on about how incredible it was but truthfully it was hard to pay attention. the lack of breathlessness, the way he played it off as not a big deal like he didn’t just save the city again, the size of him towering over everyone else, all of it had you completely dazed.

you were all over him as soon as he stepped through the door, standing up on your toes to reach him for a kiss.

“hello to you, too.” a big hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you away from your impromptu attack on his own, tilting his head at you when you frowned in protest.

“I’m all sweaty and gross, let me take my suit off first, alright? then you can kiss me as much as you want. promise.” he punctuated his words with a kiss on your head, unnecessarily picking you up for just a second to move you out of the way before you tugged his wrist to stop him.

“wait, I actually- kinda wanted to talk to you about that.” you let go of his wrist as quickly as you’d grabbed it, anxiously clasping your hands together as he turned back towards you.

“about..?”

“that.” you pointed to his suit like it was obvious, nervously looking up at him.

“my suit? what about it?” you nodded, collecting the words in your head that seemed much more rational when he wasn’t standing over you.

“i think you should keep it on.” he didn’t seem to quite understand what you were getting at, large hand moving over his face in thought as you searched for a way to say it without flat out begging him to keep the suit on and bend you over.

“keep it on.. for you? like, here?” he looked around your shared apartment, eyes wandering over the living room like he was looking for clues until he got back to you, dancing around your words.

“just for a second? you’re always so.. i dunno, different, when you have it on.” you were speaking to him like you’d just gotten together this morning, your eyes stuck on the way the fabric shaped his arms.

“yeah, that’s sorta the point, honey. that’s just to protect my identity, to protect you.” he crossed his arms when he noticed the direction of your pointed gaze, daring you to say just what you meant.

“i know, but don’t you think that’s still you? like that’s just some deeper part of you?” it was glaringly obvious that you really just wanted him to throw you around a little bit — rough you up for the sake of your own filthy desires, but he wanted to give you time to rethink it, and just as bad, he wanted to hear you say it.

“what are you asking?” he stepped closer to you, boots not yet discarded by the door creaking the hard wood floor under them.

“i want to see it. to feel it- that part of you, i mean. i just.. don’t want you to feel like you have to hold anything back from me, clark.”

“sweetheart. that’s real nice but-“ he was trying to avoid the obvious; he didn’t want to really hurt you. it was hard enough avoiding deep bruises from his hard to manage strength just being clark, letting go completely seems almost irrational.

“you’re a lot stronger than me, i know. i can handle it. let me show you, please?” you took his steady hand, your own shakier than you’d like to admit — but you weren’t scared. you’d thought about it for so long it just excited you, clark was always so gentle and sweet with you — and you loved it! but he’d also do just about anything you set your pretty little mind on, and this was no exception.

“that’s really what you want?” he was just about as close as he could get now, listening intently to your heartbeat speeding up as his hands closed around your waist.

“please.”

#oh my god I love him #he’s such a sweetheart bless him #also I have zero clue how this would work logistically but ignore that <3 #also MEOW #this was longer than intended #oops!#˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ blurbs #clark kent #clark kent x reader #꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ clark k.#superman x reader #superman 2025 #clark kent x you #david corenswet x you #david corenswet superman #˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ thots

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after-witch · 8 months ago

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The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Glass House [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: You get your period and Mahito wants to run a few tests.

Word count: 3465

notes: yandere, consensual relationship, reader is on their period, mentions of other people's torture and death, humiliation relating to period, Mahito being Mahito is his own warning

It’s not often that Mahito bothers with your bathroom. Only, in the past, when you’ve been in it--naked and wet and usually mid-shower, as he apparently finds it entertaining to see what noises you make each time he surprises you.

(Once, after comparing him to the killer in Psycho, he’d demanded to then watch the film. ‘But I didn’t stab you and you didn’t bleed chocolate syrup,’ he’d said, simply, after the scene in question.)

Today, though, he’s decided that there must be something interesting in there, because he’s spent the better part of 5 minutes rummaging--you can hear the sound of items being moved--in the closet and, judging by the sound of rustling, he’s now fiddling with the trash can.

“Hey,” he says, finally sauntering out of the bathroom. When you turn to greet him, a sarcastic remark about having fun digging through the trash on your lips, your heart stutters.

In return, Mahito simply blinks at you.

“What’s this?” He asks, dangling one of your used pads from his hand.

The smear of dried blood in the center of the white pad feels accusatory, out of its proper context in the trash can. A bit of toilet paper sticks to the end of it, remnants of the ball you created to cover up your mess.

“Oh fuck,” you say, reflexively. “Put that down! That’s--it’s--”

“It’s blood,” he says, giving the pad a sniff. “Smells funny though. Why’s it in your bathroom? Why’s it on this thing? When did you get hurt? Why were you hiding it in the trash?” The questions come simply, nearly rapid-fire. He probably says them as he thinks them.

Your cheeks burn something awful by the end of his questions, and your answer comes out half-stuttered. “It’s--I didn’t get hurt. I’m on my period.”

One of his fingers is stuck to the bottom of the pad, and he peels it off deftly, holding it closer as you wish you could snatch it from his hands and forget this ever happened.

“Oh,” is what he says, eventually, with a quiet hint of curiosity. “I guess I’m lucky then. I’ve been wanting to study human menstruation for a while now.”

The word study sticks to your chest, but you aren’t able to peel it away so easily. You don’t want him to study you; don’t want to be under his scrutiny in such an obvious way. It’s easier to pretend he knows about people, about humanity, when you’re firmly playing at something closer to a normal relationship.

As if anything about this was normal.

“Can’t you study one of your… experiments?”

Experiments. Oh, what a simple, inoffensive word for what they really are--you shake that thought away as easily as a mosquito, though it never truly leaves the room.

At this, Mahito’s eyebrows raise, and the edge of a smile tickles his lips.

“Oh,” he coos. “That’s awfully selfish to say, even for you.”

He closes the distance between the two of you now, and you don’t bother resisting when he gives your chest a poke--thankfully with the hand not currently holding your used pad--and encourages you to sit back down on the sofa.

“I want to see.” Simple and clear, like most of the things he says to you. His directness with you is something that does make him stand apart from most people. If he wanted attention, he told you so; if he wanted to be left alone, the same. There weren’t mind games with him or--or hell, if there were mind games, you were too stupid to notice them and that was just fine with you, because the alternatives of your past relationships had been far worse.

“Why?” You ask, if only to delay the inevitable.

Mahito shakes the pad on his hand, smiling a little at the way it sticks, before he peels it off and sets it on the coffee table. He sighs. “Movies never show it. They always show the woman eating ice cream or screaming at her boyfriend or cuddling with pillows, but they never show what’s actually happening down there.”

You squirm without moving.

“It’s just blood.” Your tone stays flat, uninterested. If he thinks it’s boring, he might move on. “Nothing special about that.”

Mahito’s smile reminds you of an eel.

“Then show me.”

It’s not a request that you can parry off, so you don’t bother; instead, you spread your legs, pulling up your skirt so that Mahito won’t do it himself. You might just lose the garment entirely, if it was left up to him.

Mahito claps, then crouches down in front of you, getting far too close to your pad-clad underwear for comfort. He takes a sniff and you’d like to die on the spot.

He gives the pad a poke.

“Why do you put this in there? What’s it called again?”

You close your legs a little--instinct--and he holds them open for you. It’s easier that way, you think. Easier when he takes control and you don’t have to fight your instincts.

“It’s a pad,” you force out. “I put it there to absorb the blood.”

He tilts his head. “Why?”

Your nose wrinkles at the question. “So it doesn’t get on my clothes or everything I sit on.” A ghost of a memory pushes through your brain--blood stains on school bus seats and church pews--and you force it down.

Mahito tilts his head, and you think he’s about to ask what you’re thinking about, but instead he sighs and rests his head against the edge of your thigh.

“Humans are so squeamish.” His fingers reach up and climb up your leg, dancing on your inner thighs, towards the pad. You twitch--it tickles--and he smiles. “Does everyone use pads?”

“No,” you say, as he grips the top of your underwear and begins to slide them down. You do move, now, but not to oppose him. It would be pointless. Instead you hike yourself up a little, so that your bare privates aren’t touching the couch. “Some people use tampons,” you finish, as if you’re not sitting here, hunched on your sofa, while a curse pulls down your underwear to get a look at what’s underneath.

Mahito glances up at you. He wants you to elaborate.

“A tampon is like a cotton stick, I guess? You put it up--there--and it absorbs like a pad. But from the inside.”

“Oh!” The edge of Mahito’s fingers play with the pad on your underwear. “I guess some of my experiments have been on their period, then. I wondered what those were.” He pouts, just a bit. “Maybe that’s why some of my experiments haven’t been working out right. I wasn’t taking menstruation into account.”

The thought has your stomach roiling. But you don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to think about it--what Mahito does, when he’s not here, and how what he does is just as much a part of him as the moments when he’s snuggling with you in your apartment or fucking you into your mattress.

When you look back at him, he’s grinning.

“You’re squeamish, too. About my work.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Don’t worry. It’s cute on you.”

With that, he gives up all pretense, and peels the pad away from your underwear in one swift motion.

“What are you doing?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Keeping it.” He sets it next to the already used pad. In contrast, the pad he’s just peeled away still has mostly brighter red blood on it, rather than the dull, brown old blood from the bathroom trash can. “I want to see how long it takes for you to bleed through your underwear. And some more things,” he adds, casually.

Oh, you think. This is too far, too weird. It’s puncturing the bubble you’ve created around you and Mahito in a way you don’t like.

“Mahito, I am not--”

In an instant, his eyes are on you. It’s a look that says, “You are,” and your lips feel like they clamp shut without hesitation. Something low climbs into your stomach and takes root there. When your shoulders slump, defeated, he pats your knee in appreciation.

“We’ll have a slumber party this week,” he tells you, voice getting more giddy as he goes on. “For three days? Four? However long you bleed.” He stands up and begins to survey your apartment, but for what you don’t yet know. “I can get a lot of experiments done in four days.”

You don’t have the heart--or the stomach--to deny him.

When you were thirteen, you once got your period in the middle of class. You didn’t know it until you leaned forward in your desk to get a closer look at what the teacher wrote on the blackboard--your needed glasses at the time, and didn’t yet know it--and one of the boys behind you let out a distinct tween boy guffaw, snickering just loud enough for everyone to hear: “Dude, that’s fucking nasty.”

And then you’d felt it--wetness clinging to the inside of your black pants. And you’d scooted back, looked between your legs, and there it was: a smear of red on the dull grey chair.

You were too embarrassed to do anything but sit back down, cheeks so hot that you began to sweat, and listened as everyone behind you began murmuring about your period. You had wanted to die for almost two weeks, and for the rest of your school career, you wore a sweater around your waist just in case you started without warning.

That incident, as life-defining as it had been, was not as embarrassing as what you’re going through right now.

“Mahito,” you mumble, voice thick from your tightened throat. “Is this really necessary?”

Mahito, seated at a folding table he’s hauled into the living room, glances up at you. You, naked as the day you were born and perched awkwardly on top of a porcelain bowl that Mahito had shoved underneath you.

“Which part? The bowl or you being naked?”

“Both,” you blurt helplessly.

Mahito smiles. It’s such a pretty, awful little smile. “The bowl is,” he admits. His eyes leer over your body, awkward as it must look right now. “I just like to look at you.”

God help you, you feel flattered; the warm flush in your skin tingles with the new emotion. Mahito’s praises never failed to make you feel like that, even in the midst of something like this.

Mahito abandons the table and squats in front of the sofa, peering in between your spread thighs at the bowl underneath. You squirm, and he smacks the inside of your thigh sharply. You stop moving.

“I thought it would come out faster.” His tone is soft, low. Detached to everything but mild curiosity. Like a child studying an insect in a chair. “But it’s more… oozing than anything.”

“Don’t call it oozing,” you say.

Before he can answer, a timer resting on the folding table dings delightfully. Mahito doesn’t waste time and yanks the bowl out from underneath you, leaving you to land flat on the sofa with your bare ass.

“’Hito!” You whine. “It’ll stain!” Thoughts of having to get the smeary blood out of your couch override the desire to keep your whining to a minimum, lest Mahito get annoyed with you. But, you think, it doesn’t matter much now. He’s not even paying attention.

Instead, he whisks the bowl over to the table and places it on the scale to weigh.

He sighs out something like disappointment. “It’s not that much blood at all, really. I don’t know why women complain about it so much in movies.”

He wasn’t paying attention to your whining earlier, but he does hear your incredulous intake of breath at his words. He glances back at you, confusion written on his face.

“What? It really isn’t. Now, when someone loses a limb, that’s real blood loss. And it spurts out, instead of oozing.” He nods, affirming his thoughts to himself. “That would be something to complain about.”

“It’s not just the blood,” you say, half absent. Your mind drifts to when and where and how Mahito might see someone lose an arm. Did he cut it off? Or another curse? Did the blood droplets spray over his face? Did the person die right away or--

While you were lost in thought, Mahito left his post at the table and returned to crouch in front of you, now sitting flat on the sofa despite the inevitable stains.

“Go on,” he says simply, all the while pushing your thighs apart with his hands. There’s a bit of blood smeared on the inside of your thighs and he leans forward to give it a lick. The awful feeling nesting in your stomach bristles.

“Don’t.”

Mahito blinks up at you. “I want to,” is all he says, before he does it again.

The look he gives you--Will you try to stop me?--is met with you dropping your chin, just in time to see him smile. He gives another lick. “Tell me what else makes you complain when you’re on your period.”

You think about the sneering boys behind you at school, the way one of them tapped you on your shoulder and said, voice full of glorified condescension, “Aren’t you even wearing a pad? That’s nasty.”

Instead, you rest your hands on your naked stomach and murmur out the answers Mahito wants to hear.

“Cramps.” You swallow, forcing yourself to taste the ghost of your milkshake from lunch this afternoon and not the bile that wants to come up. “From the um, uterus contracting. It can hurt really bad.”

One of the girls in the class discretely handed you a pad, but your embarrassment had been so awful that you pretended not to see her, even when she waved it in front of you. “What a bitch,” she’d murmured to a friend afterward.

“Back pain,” you continue, voice cracking. “And you can get tired. You want to eat but can’t… or you don’t want to eat at all, sometimes. It’s just… a lot of stuff.”

Your body jolts when Mahito puts his hands on your stomach--he wouldn’t transfigure you, he’s said that, and you remember his words well. But it doesn’t stop you from imagining.

“Is that why women get angry when they menstruate?” The mild glare you give him is met with the most innocent of expressions. “What? It’s what all the movies say. Though the man usually gets hit with something after he says it.” He smiles, as if daring you to hit him. You don’t.

Instead, you keep talking. Maybe it’s a way to ground yourself. Maybe you just want to talk to fill the space where dead, disfigured women, corpses created at Mahito’s whim, exist.

“Your hormones can fluctuate.” You smile a little at the forced nostalgia. “Sometimes I get really upset over dumb things. Especially when I was younger. One time, I sobbed because my mom said she was going to get fast food for dinner and she changed her mind.”

Mahito rests his elbows on your thighs, digging into them harshly. His hair tickles your skin, and you wonder, idly, if he’ll get your blood on the silver strands.

“Do you want to cry now?” He asks, almost sweetly. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Do you want to cry? No. You might, though, if things keep going the way they are. So you dig your teeth into your lip and shake your head.

“No. This is just… embarrassing, I guess.” To be naked. To be bleeding. To have Mahito sitting there, your blood on his tongue.

Mahito quirks his head, then scoots back to pry your thighs farther apart so he can get a better view of your bleeding privates.

“I don’t see why humans get so embarrassed about their bodies. It seems silly.” He rests his chin on his elbow for a moment, hums, then hoists himself up and returns to the table where he’s got a few used pads and the bowl still lined up.

“Mahito?” You ask, while he’s tinkering with his findings. “Can I put my clothes on now. And a pad?”

“No,” he answers, voice light, without even looking behind him. “I need to put this inside you first.”

You do move to get up off the couch now, a pang of fear shooting through your stomach, but you stop when he turns around with a wrapped tampon held aloft. Where did he get it--the thought flickers, and turns into something more pressing: Why does he have it?

But you know the answer, don’t you?

“I don’t use tampons.” A useless thing to say, but you say it anyway.

He simply blinks at you, and crouches back down in front of you, parting your thighs like air.

“They’re uncomfortable,” you try, louder.

This time, he stops moving, and a little bit of hope flickers through you just long enough for him to furrow his eyebrows.

“But when I make my penis, it’s much bigger than this, and you don’t say it’s uncomfortable.”

Your mouth opens to answer, and your tongue sticks to the inside. It’s stupid to argue with him when he’s got his mind set on something. So you don’t.

When you don’t continue to complain, he nods, then unwraps the tampon and skims the back of the wrapper. At least he’s reading the damn instructions, you think, in the instant before he awkwardly shoves the tampon inside you--too rough and hard, and you whimper as it pinches in an entirely awful way.

Mahito’s lips quirk. He checks the back of the wrapper again, tsks at himself, and pulls it out. This time, the insertion is less chaotic. It’s still sore, but no longer painful. Just… uncomfortable.

“Aw.” He pats your thigh. “You did great. Let me start the timer!” He jumps up, hair swinging as he rushes to begin the timer for whatever phase of the experiment he’s on.

“Can I put some clothes on now?” Though you’re no longer hoping to avoid staining your sofa, it wouldn’t be awful to be a little less vulnerable in the moment.

Mahito taps his chin with his thumb, considering. Then he shakes his head. “I want you naked. But we can cuddle on your bed for this part, so you don’t get crabby!”

There’s no time to voice a complaint or offense; he hoists you up, some of the blood that had smeared against your bottom rubbing off on his arm as he carries you into the bedroom. He doesn’t seem to mind; he simply plops you on the bed--fuck, your comforter--and hops on to wrap himself around you.

Silence stretches around you, even as he wraps his arms tighter and presses his nose against your neck.

“Are… we done after this?” You venture to ask, quiet and tired.

Mahito talks into your neck, cold breath--is it even breath?--ghosting your skin. “Oh, no. I have lots of things I’d like to find out this week.” You can feel his smile pressing into you. “You’re being very helpful, you know.”

“I am?”

Mahito hums against you, and sniffs your hair. His answer is so light and sweet, the contrast makes you feel a bit sick.

“Earlier, I’d considered just grabbing someone to experiment on instead, but since you’re being so sweet about everything, I figured I’d just use you instead.”

The dread in your stomach puffs up, its sodden hairs standing on end.

“So you saved me from having to find at least one woman to test my questions on. Maybe two,” he adds, voice still light. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

“Nice?” You ask, voice hollow.

Mahito presses a smooch to your neck. “Don’t most people feel nice when they do a good deed?”

A good deed, to stand in for women who might have otherwise died horribly. For women who would have spent their time not thinking about humiliating childhood period experiences but their families--their partners, their children, if they had them.

A good deed to snuggle with Mahito, while miles away, someone was begging for death from underneath a mass of twisted flesh.

“I guess.” Your voice cracks, but it doesn’t bother him. You suppose a lot of things don’t bother Mahito and so often, you try not to let them bother you.

He sighs against you, and presses his hands lightly where you’d laid them earlier to indicate your cramps. His fingers dully stroke against the spot, and you wonder what it would feel like for his fingers on you not to bring mild comfort and the growing tingle of affection--but terror and pain and fear.

You wonder, too, if Mahito ever thinks the same thing.

#mahito x reader #yandere #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere mahito #yandere jjk #afterwitch writes

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eli0004 · 10 months ago

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Some random Levi relationship HCs

Summary: Just some random lil Levi things I’ve had on my brain lately :D

Rating: 18+ [Minors DNI]

A/n: I can do a part two if anyone is interested

If you compliment him on his appearance, say you like his hair when it’s longer in the front, tell him he looks lovely in that shade of green, he will never forget that shit. He’ll start leaving his hair longer and wearing your favorite colors on him more often, because he loves knowing you’re finding him attractive.

When Levi catches you checking him out, he acts appalled, absolutely flabbergasted, how dare you objectify him like this. He’ll roll his eyes and scoff, waving you off like he can’t believe you’d be so openly perverted like this, but then you’ll spot the blush spreading over his cheeks, and if you’re lucky, you might even catch a glimpse of his lips curling up in a playful smirk as he turns away from you.

He’s not always “stoic”, he just has a very dry sense of humor. Sarcasm, deadpan jokes and teasing actually make him chuckle occasionally, and he loves when you go back and forth with him.

He doesn’t have a great social battery, but when he loves you, he wants you around regardless. Sometimes his favorite moments are sitting together in comfortable silence, and having you rake your fingers through his dark hair, or scratch his back.

I think he has a pretty normal sex drive, but sometimes he needs a lot of foreplay to get comfortable, because the second that sex starts to feel like mindless fucking rather than an expression of love, he feels unnerved and off put.

He’s such a giver, that if you give him something back he’ll be absolutely touched. Make him a bracelet? He’ll never take it off. Bring him something he forgot on his way out the door that morning? He’s thinking about putting a ring on your finger. Cook him his favorite meal? He’ll melt into a puddle of soft sappy feelings.

Honestly, he’s really just a hopeless romantic. Once upon a time he was a little boy that day-dreamt of finally being loved, being held, and doted on. Up until now, he was starting to get used to the idea of being alone, so he’ll do anything to keep you happy and content with him.

I think levi is a switch, but he leans towards submissive because, again, he loves being doted on. He likes sensual touching, thumb against his cheek, fingers gripping his thighs, running your nails down his abdomen and feeling it tense up. He fantasizes about that kind of thing. He wants your hands all over him.

He gets super turned on by possessive behavior, in and out of the bedroom. Bite him, yank on his hair, ask him who’s cock this is, he loves that shit. If you get jealous easily, he’ll roll his eyes and tell you you’re being immature, but he’s such a bad liar because his ego is soaring. He’ll be walking around with a little more confidence that day.

If you keep eye contact and tell him you love him during sex, he might bust on the spot.

In the colder months, he tends to become depressed easily. He benefits from having someone who won’t allow him to shut himself away.

Husband material, marry him immediately.

#attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot smut #aot headcanons #aot x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman smut #levi headcanons #levi x reader #levi aot #snk levi #levi attack on titan #sub levi ackerman #subby levi #captain levi

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oreo-creampie · 1 year ago

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“𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: incubus!sukuna, witch!reader (sukuna's only), monster fucking, double dick, fingering both holes, sukuna cums on you, sukuna's hand mouth and stomach mouth, dacryphilia, mocking, light pain kink (Sukuna’s only), double penetration (anal and cunt), sweet soft choso, reassuring and checking in if your ok, riding, choso has a dick piercing, size kink, daddy/beautiful/little witch, praise

𝐟𝐞𝐲: so after almost starting a bedroom fire with my laptop’s charger I have no laptop for the next however long. So after a lot of tears and some frustration then self care to calm my ass down here we are! Because AIN’T NOTHING GONNA BREAK MY STRIDE AIN’T NOTHING GONNA SLOW ME DOWN OH NO I GOT TO KEEP ON MOVING!!! Also I took Kento out because I’m just not that into him anymore 🤷🏽‍♀️ so it would come across passionless

𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

“You’re lucky you're hot." The look of hunger in his eyes made it clear you'd invited a ravenous predator into your home. You want to be his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.

It's overwhelming the way Sukuna is fondling, biting, and stretching two of your tight, wet holes with his thick fingers. You're a toy in his large rough hands, laying beneath his massive muscular 8-foot tall stature.

He could easily rip you apart. The power imbalance turns you on as much as the sweet painful pleasure of his hands' mouth biting the soft squishy fat of your breasts. His warm tongues flicks your sensitive nipples. Pleasure and pain are becoming one and the same.

Thick tears trickle down the sides of your face. Sukuna’s smirk spreads, showing his sharp fangs. "You're being such a crybaby after having the audacity to summon me?" You can feel Sukuna's lust growing with your tears. His lust is heavy, intoxicating consuming, and hot, blurring the lines where your emotions lie.

Fucking three thick fingers into your squelching, quivering cunt. He remarks with a groan, "My little witch is an empath?” He has the excitement of someone opening a gift.

“Focus on my lust more, let it mix with your’s and drive you mad. I’ll fuck you till your body can’t keep up and you pass out." Closing his eyes, his jaw-dropping with a loud groan. Your sensitive cunt clenches from seeing his muscular body tremble over you through his large muscular body.

Looking down at you with more hunger than before. "You just keep tasting better." He's stroking your sensitive, puffy clit with his stomach’s tongue. "I can feel how close are as if I'm about to cum." It's getting harder to separate your lust from his. And you don't care to anymore.

The second you allow yourself to plunge into the deep end you're creaming. Squirting for the first time onto his thick fingers. "Feels-feels so gooood! Wanna keep cumming, gonna cum, wanna cum, gonnnnnn!” He groans fucking your spasming, squirting cunt through your peak.

Gliding his fingers out of your ass. Pushing down his pants, stroking one of his thick, tattooed veiny cocks. Urging thick white cum to shoot out onto your belly. "Lucky for you it takes a several times before my cocks go off. Heh I can’t believe you got me off just by cumming. You’re little cock sleeve body was meant for mine." Your eyes widen, your jaw dropping in disbelief. How are both supposed to fit?

Jerking your hips away in overstimulation as his tongue rubs your clit faster. He grabs your thighs firmly holding you in a mating press. "Did you think there would only be one?” He drags his fingers through his thick cum on your stomach.

No wonder he wanted to stretch you out with three fingers to loosen up both your holes. Yet it doesn't stop you from claiming, "You're too big, it's-" He stuffs his cum coated fingers into your mouth.

"Ok and?" He lines both cocks up with your holes, whilst tightening his grasp on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere. “Your slutty little holes are going to take me anyway, and I’m going to fuck them till you’re gapping.” Roughly rocking his hips forward, thrusting both cocks in. Both tips start with a soft round point making it easy for him to glide in.

He slips his fingers out of your mouth to hear your cries from the gradual stretch of his cocks. Getting thicker with each inch till it reaches the knot-like base. Your holes offer resistance too unable to take it just yet.

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

Pushing his boxers down, you bite your lip tensing up beneath him. His pale thick veiny thick pierced cock is beautiful but intimidating. And ever since the first picture you’ve wonder how the warm metal is going to feel inside you.

Choso looks you over, concern etching into his handsome face. A wrinkle forming between his thin brows. His voice is gentle and comforting. “Is this ok? Do we need to stop and cuddle?” But your nervous bubble up all the same.

Glancing to the side, biting your bottom lip. He gently cups your cheek, swiping his thumb, trying to soothe your jumble nerves. You look into his loving purple eyes, the warmth and admiration within them captivating.

Breathing in filling your lungs then breathing out, "Youlookedtoobiginthosepictures." You had amassed a collection of pictures and videos showcasing his beautiful veiny cocky. From cum shot, to jerking off, to pre-cum dripping from his cock you had it all. You’ve gotten off to Choso more times than you care to count.

Refusing to let your nerves stop you now when you so close to having your first time with Choso. "I want you to fuck me, I'm just worried it won't all fit. Or that it will hurt. You’re so big Cho.” His cheeks flush pink, his dark eyes widen, biting into his bottom lip.

Choso leans down, kissing forehead. “How about you ride me beautiful? I’ll only move if you ask.” The answer is easy to give.

“Please daddy.” For the first time nickname slips out effortlessly. His compassionate, caring and understanding nature. Choso gently kisses you groaning loudly. The sound makes your cunt clench around nothing.

Whining aching to have your sensitive cunt filled up. Whilst your nerves trickle into excitement over just how big your boyfriend is. His broad chest and shoulders, well defined abs. His thick, sculpted arms, and muscular thighs. A thick, long heavy being cocks like his is suiting for his stature.

Parting your lips for him to glide his tongue past. Slipping your fingers into his soft, dark hair. He grabs your hips, squeezing your squishy hip’s crease.

Pressing his warm, thick cock to your soft, soaking wet cunt. Rutting his hips, rubbing his warm cock head on your sensitive clit. Breaking away, looking down at you wondering,

Choso is incredibly sexy with his hair down and messy. “Are you sure you want this beautiful?” Reaching between grabbing his cock lining him up. His eyes widen the second his fat head touches your quivering hole.

“Nnn I do! Want you so badly daddy!” Choso glides just the tip in his abs clenching as he restraints himself from thrusting deeper into you. Shifting your hips from the pleasurable stretch of his cock head gliding inside. You can feel the soft ridges line of his cock head slipping inside you.

“Darling, you’re so wet and soft.” Picking you up by your hips, without moving you on his cock Choso carefully switches positions. Placing you on top his lap, straddling his thighs, loosening his grasp on your hips.

Rocking your hips, focusing on the feeling is his warm cock head stretching your cunt. “That it’s beautiful, take your time taking Daddy’s big cock. You going so good. You feel so good!” He clenches your hips, digging his heels into the bed.

Getting used to being so split open, just his cock head alone feels too good. Rocking your back back, splaying your fingers on hus “Daddy! I wanna be stuffed full of your beautiful, thick cock.” Taking a little more, groaning as his warm barbell glides into you. Choso trembles, jerking his hips up.

Rubbing your clit, making your sensitive cunt clench. “Sorry beautiful. How are you feelinggnnnn!” You bounce your hips, gliding him in and down. The beautiful look of pleasure on Choso’s handsome face getting you off.

Moaning, “I’m so full of your cock daddy! It feels too good. Please move, slowly.” Planting his feet, gently guiding you with his hips. Gliding half his cock into you, letting your cunt get used to being so full before giving you another inch. Watching your expression for any hint of pain.

strawberry brat all works

“it’s too tight” toji, suguru, satoru & choso

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cloudcountry · 2 years ago

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nrc when you dodge their kisses

SUMMARY: The NRC boys try to kiss you, and you dodge. How dare you!

CHARACTERS: All NRC Students

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: You already know what I'm gonna say. Azul you're gorgeous and I want actually I NEED you to hmu!! I would treat you so right!! Just one kiss please!! You can tell I'm Azul biased and I am not sorry!!

~~~~~

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts immediately turns as red as his hair. He apologizes profusely for assuming you’d be up for a cheek kiss and you have to resist the urge to hug him. You tell him to calm down, that it was a joke. His relief is evident, but you can tell there’s something else on his mind as he stares at you, so you offer him your cheek again.

Trey Clover apologizes immediately, his cheeks flushed pink. This is one of the only times you’ll ever see him rattled, slightly embarrassed that you’d dodged his display of affection. He shakes it off pretty easily though, much to your chagrin. Smooch him.

Cater Diamond knows what you’re playing at. He holds your face still and gives you two big smooches on your cheeks, telling you he loves you before rushing off to class. He’s going to dodge you the next time you try to kiss him as payback.

Deuce Spade looks heartbroken. He apologizes and vows to ask before doing anything like that next time. He asks if he’s made you uncomfortable or if anything is wrong, and when you tell him it’s a joke he gets so relieved. Don’t scare him like that again!

Ace Trappola whines incessantly. Anyone would be lucky to kiss him and you just dodged him! Like he was chopped liver! Is that what he is to you? Huh!? It’s hilarious because he will not SHUT UP until you give him Two (2) kisses to make up for the one he missed and the time he spent lamenting over it.

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar narrows his eyes and stares at you. You pretend you don’t notice, continuing to walk inside your classroom that he’d so kindly walked you to. Except he doesn’t leave. “Herbivore.” Leona calls, and even though he didn’t touch you, you freeze. “You forgot something.”

Jack Howl assumes you’re not in the mood and shrugs it off. Well, that’s what it would seem like if you weren’t an expert in Jack Howl Communications. His ears are lowered and his tail isn’t wagging as much anymore, and you know it’s because he’s worried. The next time you see him, you cup his face and give him a kiss on the cheek, just to watch him perk up again.

Ruggie Bucchi’s ears flatten almost immediately. He immediately assumes he’s done something wrong and starts bringing you a bunch of snacks to make up for it. He’s laughing on the outside but dying on the inside. He will literally only touch you again when you initiate or until you tell him it’s a joke.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto wants to run away, and he almost does. The world crashes around him and his mind immediately runs to his octopot and all the mockery he faced and how you are the last person he wants to see him that way. You immediately notice that the small joke hurt his feelings in a way that you never wanted to hurt him, and grab his face to kiss him gently. “I’m sorry honey. You were going to miss.” you murmur as you pull away, rubbing circles on his cheek with your thumb, “Had to make sure you didn’t.”

Jade Leech pretends to be wounded. He refuses to accept any affection from you for the next five hours because you broke his heart so bad. Maybe next time you’ll think before you deny the eel the attention he rightfully deserves!! If you try anything, he’ll dodge it with a “oh, I’m sorry. I’m busy. Come back later.” JADE STOP.

Floyd Leech is another whiner. You dodge his kisses, he’ll pout and whine for hours. No amount of kisses you give him to make up for it will be enough. Ten, fifteen, twenty kisses, on his forehead, cheeks, or lips…won’t be enough. He will hold this over your head.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-Asim blue screens and tries to figure out what he did wrong. He apologizes quickly and asks if you want him to keep his distance from you today. He doesn’t phrase it in a dramatic way like some of the students on this list. Instead, his words are genuine and warm, with only your comfort in mind. He’s very observant so he’ll be able to tell if you really do want your space!

Jamil Viper rolls his eyes and goes about his day. He immediately assumes that you’re playing a prank on him, and he fully intends to do what you did to him but doubled. You lean in for a kiss the next day, he dodges it. You try to hold his hand, he moves it at the last second. Just apologize, he’s so petty.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit narrows his eyes and stares at you. He doesn’t like playing your silly little games and will immediately ask if that's what you’re doing. No matter your response, he rolls his eyes and lets it go. If you want any of his affection, you’re going to have to initiate next time.

Rook Hunt doesn’t realize you’ve dodged until his lips don’t land on yours. He’s already closed his eyes when he stumbles a bit, his eyes flying open in surprise. You stand behind him with a mischievous little smile, and he immediately knows what you’re doing. He cries out some monologue about your cruelty before giving you a forehead kiss.

Epel Felmier narrows his eyes and refuses to give you kisses after that. His ego is hurt and you’re responsible! You’re going to need to promise to never do it again and give him a kiss to make up for it. How dare you make him out to be a fool!

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud wants to crawl into a hole and die. He finally gained the courage to kiss you goodbye for the second time this week, and you dodged him! That was so cringe he thinks he’s going to explode. He only feels a little bit better when you grab his face and kiss him twice - one on each cheek.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia is frozen, his eyes wide with surprise. You’ve always been receptive to his advances, and now that you’re not he doesn’t know what to do. Recovering quickly, he smirks and looks you dead in the eye. “I suppose you’re avoiding my affection today? Fine. I shall fulfill your wishes, Child of Man.”

Sebek Zigvolt jumps away, his face flaming red. He immediately starts yelling about how he wasn’t trying to give you a forehead kiss, he was just checking over your shoulder to make sure nobody was about to attack you! Cup his cheek and kiss his forehead - watch him get even redder.

Silver blinks slowly before nodding, telling you he understands and he hopes you have a good lesson. Assuming you want your distance, Silver doesn’t initiate any affection for the rest of the day unless you give him explicit permission.

Lilia Vanrouge follows your dodge and lands a kiss on you anyway. He laughs loudly at your surprise, booping you on the nose before practically bouncing off to his next class. If you want to give him a kiss, he’s going to dodge and stick his tongue out at you now.

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idkdudethisisntpermanent · 3 months ago

Text

Over the Limit

jenna ortega x female reader

summary: In a town divided between two rival street racing crews, you’re caught between your cousin’s crew, the Sinners and Jenna, a mysterious girl from the Vipers who’s more than just a pretty face. Both of you need something from each other, but as the stakes rise, you’re left wondering: what makes your heart race more— the thrill of the competition or the girl who’s impossible to ignore?

word count: 6.7k

A very special thank you to @ortegalvr for giving me the very much needed nudge to start moving my work to Tumblr. And to @cobaltperun for being so patient and thoroughly answering all my questions, essentially giving me (a Tumblr noob) a dummies guide to Tumblr. Appreciate you both!

————

Why is it that some of the best feel goods in life can just as easily kill you if you indulge in it too much?

Alcohol, drugs, illegal driving... love?

Fortunately for you, you only indulge in only one of those.

There's just something so satisfying about watching your car pick up speed; watching the little arm on the speed gauge reach it's full potential. If cars are able to reach those speeds then they should, it's a fact of the matter. And when you're surrounded by cars all your life and the only reason you have a livelihood is because of those three thousand pounds of steel, you're bound to make some fun out of it.

You push down on the accelerator with more pressure, reaching speeds of almost 180 km/hour when you see the flashing blue and red lights in the rear view mirror.

The feds.

"Took them longer than usual." you thought out loud.

Now there could be two reasons they're after you. The obvious, speeding. But then there's also the fact that you stole the beauty you're driving from the town's richest neighbourhood, Summer Valley.

Of course stealing it is not enough for you, so you made some tweaks here and there in the garage so this ride could be even more illegal than it already is, and now you're selling it to an off the grid buyer.

Escaping the police wasn't something new, it's become routinely. You'd be more concerned if the cops weren't on your tail during a delivery.

You make a sharp turn right into a short alleyway marking the start of this high speed chase.

Being the exceptional mechanic that you are, your work on this car has given it a larger than usual turn radius which allowed the turn to be much smoother, giving you a good head start.

"Why are these fuckers in the middle of road!" You yelled panickily, upon seeing the herd of people in front of you.

You don't know when people decided to ditch the sidewalks and walk in the middle of the road, but clearly, you missed the memo. You were forced to sound the horn a few times, and luckily the pedestrians were responsive and didn't cause you to lose your lead on the cop, but it may have alerted them—if you were lucky enough to lose them in the first place.

Once you finally got out of the alleyway, your phone started ringing, stealing your focus from the dark road in front of you to glance down at your phone for a millisecond.

Anton. Your cousin.

Anton Y/l/n. Your older cousin of three years. He was an impulsive firecracker that has the tendency to rope you into his shenanigans, not deliberately of course. Despite his flaws he'd do anything for family. You like to joke around and call him Dom Toretto, and those jokes have only gotten worse after he buzzed his head after an unfortunate grease spillage accident that was entirely his and your fault.

That five letter name is the most anxiety inducing noun known to man in your books and everytime you answer the older guy's call, you feel as if your gambling your mental health. He could either be calling to tell you about a huge car gig that he scored for you both or that he owes a million dollar debt.

You legit never know.

You groan and answer the call, putting it on speaker and tossing the phone to the passenger seat.

"What now?" you yell over the sounds of acceleration and police sirens.

"Come to Chester and Dan's lane." He says straight to the point, not questioning the noises he hears on your end of the phone. "After your delivery of course." At this point he's used to his little cousin getting chased down by the cops too.

"What's happening at Chester and Dan?" You ask looking at the side view mirror, squinting at the piercing blue and red flashes.

"Sinners are doing a couple rounds before the big race tomorrow. Join us, it'll be fun."

You sigh at your cousin's billionth attempt to get you acquainted with the Sinners. He's been trying ever since he first started as a general member of the club to now, the leader of the street race club.

"We'll see, I'm kind of in the middle of something," you shout over the sound of the tires screeching from a sharp turn you just made.

"Ugh! I'm not gullible like the other fucks in your life. Don't 'we'll see' me thinking it'll keep me satisfied and off your back for a while."

"I'm busy."

"Just step on the gas you pussy, going past two hundred won't kill you."

With a roll of your eyes, you think that you've entertained Anton's wishes enough and hung up the phone with the determination to lose the cops and deliver the 1969 Ford Mustang you're driving in one piece.

Twenty minutes later, a handful full of sharp turns later and momentarily stopping to let a group of duckling cross the street, you were finally at your destination.

"Car looks good to me," the off the grid buyer who introduced himself as John said with an approving nod after surveying the vintage black vehicle for quite some time.

You let out a breath. You've made your fair share of deliveries over the years, and just like Anton's calls, you never know the type of customer you're gonna get.

Some customers complain about the price of parts, or a scratch on the car that doesn't exist or they go back on their word and attempt to haggle the price to something ridiculous.

"Nice work kid," John says handing you the promised amount you both settled on a couple weeks prior. You didn't have to count the stash of cash to know that all of it was there.

"Finally," you sigh, smiling at the wad of cash in your hands and running your thumb along the bills, walking towards the direction of home.

Suddenly a car pulls up. "Give me the cash or give me your life. Your choice." Before you can register the words, you're met with the barrel of a pistol pointed at you through an unrolled passenger side window.

You knew you weren't a fighter nor were you confrontational. Even though you grew up in the tougher parts of the town, your brain is what got you out of your predicaments. If you were a fighter you wouldn't be spending your life stealing, fixing and selling cars.

Laughter interrupted you from handing over the cash. Confused, you focus on the face holding the glock, and all previous thoughts disappeared and was now replaced with relief and anger.

"What the fuck Anton!" you angrily say, hopping into the passenger seat of the car next to your laughing cousin.

You knew better than to question the fact that your cousin had a gun. When you're the leader of a street race club, you need protection. Especially when all the other club owners own a gun, and fights always break out.

"You should've seen your face," he slips out in his fit of laughter, beginning to drive off as his cousin settles in his car.

"I thought you were street smart, you know better than to walk around this time flaunting your cash."

"I can handle myself, but yeah I should've been more careful. I was just a little excited finally getting paid," You admit, recalling the rut you've recently been in and the struggles you and your mother have recently been facing to make ends meet.

Anton acknowledges the response, "You know you could always ask me for help?

"My mom wouldn't take it."

Anton let's out a loud sigh, "No offense dude, but I don't get your mom's deal. She acts as if I'm the reason our dads are dead."

You wince at the mention of your dead fathers. Sometimes you wonder how Anton could talk about this stuff so easily. "You just resemble Uncle so much, and to be fair you are following the same path as him."

Anton's father and yours, who were brothers, founded the Sinner's Race Club. Anton's dad had always been your father's right-hand man in races, often riding in the passenger seat. During a high-stakes race meant to settle a territory dispute, the brakes on your father's car failed, and both men were pronounced dead at the scene.

Since then, your mom understandably kept you away from cars, Anton, and anything related to the race club. She forbade you from getting a driver's license and doesn't even know you have one. Hiding it wasn't difficult, though, given that your family has more pressing expenses than a car.

"Alright, we're here," Your cousin announces, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I still think you should show up tomorrow. Sleep on it."

You step out of the car, once Anton puts the money you made from your sale in a spare backpack he had. So your mom wouldn't ask questions.

"How was your shift?" your mom asks from the couch as you walk through the door.

"Fine, just sore from lifting all those boxes," you lie smoothly.

"Hmm, get to bed early tonight."

As you head toward your room, her voice calls out again. "Oh, and Y/n," she says, making you turn back. "That better not have been Anton dropping you off."

You stay silent and head to bed, unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

————

"How the hell does your mom not catch on? She really thinks some warehouse gig's got you pullin' in forty grand at a time?"

You wipe the sweat of your brow, while you grab a car wrench. "She doesn't know I make that much, I help pay the rent and get food on our table. The rest I save."

"Smart. So, what's the big plan? Get outta Brimstone? Buy yourself a mansion in Summer Valley?" Mason sneers condescendingly.

This morning, you woke up to a text from Anton that convinced you to at least help prep the cars for tonight's big race, even if you don't plan on showing up. Now, you find yourself at the Brimstone Sinner's garage, the garage where you do your car modifications which sits at the edge of Sinner territory.

The place is buzzing with other club members scattered around, working on various cars. You, Anton, and—unfortunately—Mason, a friend of Anton's, who somehow wormed his way into the conversation, are huddled by the main cars, making sure they're in prime condition for the race.

"Ay! Stop distracting my best mechanic!" Anton shouts over the hood of the car to Mason.

Before you knew it you were rolling under the car via the creeper to work on the underside of the car. As you were finishing up you suddenly heard the garage go dead silent, but you didn't know why since your view was limited.

You hear Anton break the silence, "You got some fucking nerve walking into my garage asshat."

As you were lying on your back you could see about one foot from the ground up. You couldn't see who it was, but you could tell where they were from. The grey Dior dunks paired with the most unfashionable pants ever told you everything you needed to know.

Someone from Summer Valley is here.

Then came the laugh. That short, arrogant chuckle, the kind that practically exhaled wealth. Privilege. The very thing you despised.

"Just wanted to see you pussies before you lose all your dignity—oh and your garage. I'm already imagining what I'm gonna do with the place," the voice laughs again.

The conversation around you fades as your mind fixates on a single phrase. Lose the garage? Your hand curls into a tight fist, knuckles turning white. Did your dumbass cousin actually gamble the garage for tonight's race?

You try to focus your hearing, trying to see if anyone else is upset by the fact. But it's silent, they're unfazed, indifferent to the fact that Anton—the club's supposed leader—might have just wagered the club's most valuable asset. Property. You let out a sharp exhale. This is exactly what you couldn't stand about racers. They're all thrill-seeking junkies who only care about going fast. Does no one else here realize the gravity of losing this garage?

Anton snaps you back to reality. "Percy you ain't riding tonight if you're dead. Now get the fuck out before you catch a bullet."

Percy.

Leader of the Summer Valley Vipers. Just another privileged trust fund brat, bored one summer, who saw that the kids on the wrong side of the tracks had a race club and wanted in. So formed his own club. For the Vipers, racing was a hobby. For anyone from Brimstone? It was survival.

Once the obnoxious figure in those ridiculous pants left the garage, you rolled out from under the car, wiping grease from your hands. A quick glance around told you that everyone had already returned to their tasks, like the tense exchange with the Viper hadn't even happened.

Jaw clenched, you stomped over to Anton and gave him a firm nudge—just hard enough to make your frustration clear. "What the hell, Ant?"

Anton, mid-conversation with Madison—one of the club's members—turned to face you, exhaling a cloud of smoke. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"What? Seriously?" you snap. "What was Pissy going on about, losing the garage?"

He let out a long, drawn-out sigh before flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Relax, Y/n. It's just to raise the stakes, nothing serious."

"Nothing serious?" you say, mirroring his words once again. "This is my fucking livelihood, I can't live without this garage Ant? Where else am I going to fix cars?!"

Anton calmy takes one last drag, puts out his cigarette, and gestures for you to follow him outside of the garage, away from the rest of the club members.

Once you were outside Anton wasted no time in getting to the point.

"I'm only gonna say this once, Y/n. Don't ever talk to me like that in front of my people again. I run this crew."

His gaze softened slightly as he added, "I know we're family, but out here, I gotta be their leader. You get me?"

You nod understanding the politics of running a club like this. It wasn't simple and it wasn't like Anton was being rude to you.

"Now kid, listen to me very closely." Anton starts, his eyes narrowing, words firm.

You hated when he called you "kid," and Anton damn well knew it. He was only three years older, but you decided to bite your tongue this time, sensing he had something important to say.

"You don't take risks," he said, his voice steady.

You opened your mouth to cut him off, but he quickly held up a hand, his words rushing out before you could get a word in. "—hold on, let me finish! I know you think stealing cars, making illegal mods, and dodging the feds is risky—and yeah, it is... for most people. But not for you. You're too good at it. It's not a risk when you know you're always gonna pull it off. You're in your comfort zone. You don't even flinch anymore."

You crossed your arms, shaking your head. "I don't need the gamble, Ant. Why would I put myself in a position to lose something—everything?"

"But why wouldn't you?" Anton fires back passionately.

For a moment neither of you say anything.

"That's the problem, Y/n," he said finally, his voice low. "You don't take real risks anymore because you're afraid to lose. But sometimes... you gotta lose something to really win. You know what I'm saying?"

You frowned, not fully understanding. "What's that even supposed to mean? I'm not trying to play some high-stakes game just for the thrill of it."

"That's not what I'm talking about, kid. I'm saying there's more to life than just getting by. You can't just keep doing the same shit because it's easy and familiar. You gotta challenge yourself, push yourself outta that comfort zone. That's where the real reward is."

You shifted uncomfortably, not liking where the conversation was headed. "So what, you want me to throw myself into danger for no reason? What are you really getting at, Ant?"

His gaze stayed steady, not backing down. "I'm talking about the garage. Everything we've built. If you keep playing it safe, we'll stay small. But if we take some risks? We could grow this into something huge, we could run the city, Y/n."

His words hung in the air, heavy. You hesitated, feeling the pressure. "And what's the catch?"

A slow smirk crept onto his face as he leaned in. "The catch is, we go all in, or we lose it all."

Your head shook slightly, confused and uneasy. Anton sounded insane right now, with all this talk of taking over the city. "I don't know," you muttered, your voice wavering.

"I'm not saying you have to. Maybe this," he said, gesturing around the garage and the cars. "...isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive Y/n/n? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

————

"Just get home safe, and grab me a pack of cigarettes on your way," your mom says, her tone casual. You exhale, relieved she let you leave without too many questions.

After your talk with Anton, and spending hours tuning up cars for the race, you head home, but your mind lingers on what your cousin said earlier. His words hit deeper than you care to admit—he was right. You've been stuck in your comfort zone for far too long, and you can't even remember the last time you did something that pushed your boundaries.

So, here you are, lying to your mom about getting called in for a late night shift when in reality, you're on your way to the race between the Sinners and Vipers.

Anton was practically beaming when you told him you were finally coming to the race. He couldn't wait to give you a ride to the track.

"Took me, what—six years? Finally got you to show up," Anton shakes his head, laughing as you slide into the passenger seat.

You ignore his teasing, cutting straight to the point. "You nervous?"

"Nah, fuck no. Pussy's a trash driver—he's got nothing on me."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, this is a title race?"

You didn't realize the leaders of both clubs were squaring off tonight. A title race meant more than bragging rights—both sides were gambling big, this race could mean life or death for both clubs.

You were about to ask what else Anton had on the line besides the garage, but the car suddenly surged forward, the burst of speed nearly throwing you out of your seat.

"What the hell! Slow down!" you shout, gripping the armrest tightly.

"Relax, I'm not even hitting two hundred yet—"

The older driver begins to roll his windows up, a sign that he wants to go even faster. The world outside blurred as the engine roared, drowning out the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

"Anton. Stop." Your voice is steady, firmer than ever leaving no room for argument.

The driver sighs, gradually slowing the car down to legal road limits. "You need to get over it eventually Y/n."

Those were the last words said for the remainder of the ride, you didn't want to argue with your cousin before he has one of the biggest races of his life. He knew why you were antsy with the going beyond a certain speed limit. He knew. Of course, he knew. The crash. The speed. The helplessness you felt back then. You gritted your teeth, willing yourself not to dwell on it, not to bring it up again.

You finally pull into the track, and your eyes widen in awe. It's like you were stepping onto the movie set of Fast and Furious. The area is packed with custom cars, their paint jobs gleaming under the glow of neon lights and street lamps, unique to fit the personality of each driver. Engines roar and rev, filling the air with a pulse that matches the energy of the crowd. People are everywhere—leaning against cars, laughing, shouting over the music blasting from speakers.

The race course itself stretches down a wide, abandoned road, littered with warehouses and graffiti-covered walls. Smoke drifts in the air from burning rubber, and the smell of gasoline is thick. You can feel the intensity of the competition buzzing in the air. This wasn't just a race—it was a spectacle, alive with adrenaline and danger.

Anton slowly turns into beneath a large abandoned overpass that you've often heard was a hotspot for racers and ragers. You pan your eyes across the windshield and immediately spot the rival race crews: a sea of black jackets to the right and a wall of red to the left, each group eyeing each other with the tension only moments from snapping.

You were so caught up in the moment you didn't even notice Anton turn the volume up as he played I Don't Fuck with You by Big Sean while rolling past the Viper's crew. Typical Anton—always stirring the pot. The Vipers glared but didn't act, clearly aware of who you were. You both look at each other and laugh as you join the rest of your crew a bit further into the underpass.

As your cousin parks the car he grabs something from the back seat and tosses it onto your lap—a black leather jacket.

You stared at it for a moment. The design was unmistakable. A large, detailed skull with flames rising behind it, symbolizing both danger and speed. The club's name, Sinners, arched above the skull in bold gothic, tattoo-style font. The club your father founded. The legacy you never wanted.

Your chest tightened as you ran your fingers over the smooth leather. Putting it on would be more than just an outfit choice—it would be an open declaration of association. Your mom would kill you if she ever found out.

Sensing your hesitation, Anton laughed. "Relax, I can see the steam coming out of your head from here. You don't have to wear it, alright? Just throw it over your shoulder or something. People need to know who you're with, that's all."

With that, you both stepped out of the car, and the cheers erupted. They were loud, wild, and unmistakably for Anton—he was their leader. But as the energy surged through the crowd, you couldn't help but wonder if a few of those cheers were meant for you. After all, it was your first time showing up to a race.

As you slipped into the crowd, a few familiar faces greeted you with nods and casual grins, clearly surprised to see you here. You exchanged small talk with some of the members, their conversations a mix of race gossip, bets, and tales of past victories. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, but as the minutes ticked by, you felt the need to break away, the noise and energy overwhelming you.

Stepping out from the cluster of people, you wandered toward the edge of the underpass, taking in the scene. The place was massive—graffiti-streaked pillars towering above, just like the one you were leaning against.

You took this moment to observe the Vipers. You've always had the displeasure of seeing the odd one or two while you were out doing your runs, but this is the first time you've seen the entire crew together. Your eyes land on a certain member. Percy. The only one that had a leader patch on the right sleeve of his jacket, an absurd attempt to assert dominance. You laugh at how lame this guy is. Anton exudes leader, he didn't need a patch on his sleeve reminding everyone he is one.

As you continue making your observations about the Vipers, from the corner of your eye, you noticed movement—someone else seeking the same kind of quiet as you. You glanced over, and there she was, leaning against the opposite side of the same pillar as you. The roar of engines and the blaring music made it easy to miss each other until now.

She was alone, her red jacket slung casually over her arm, a cigarette between her fingers. The contrast of her dark hair against the dim lighting made her stand out even more, and for a moment, she hadn't noticed you.

You tried not to stare, but there was something magnetic about her presence—like the calm before a storm. She flicked her eyes in your direction and froze, her gaze locking onto yours as if she wasn't expecting company either.

She glanced up at the black jacket draped over your shoulder, then at her own red one, casually slung over her arm. With a raised eyebrow and a playful smirk, she broke the silence.

"Guess neither of us is feeling the uniform tonight, huh?" she said, flicking ash from her cigarette, her voice low and surprisingly soft.

Of course her voice had to be the sexiest thing you've ever heard. You remained silent, not because you wanted to, but you didn't know how to respond. This is the first time you've ever spoken to a Viper—a hot Viper at that. You didn't know how to interact with a pretty girl, let alone someone who should be your sworn rival.

"Didn't think anyone else would find this spot," she sighs, not sure if she was saying it to you or outloud to herself.

You pushed off the pillar slightly, offering a small shrug. "Needed a breather."

She smirked, exhaling smoke slowly. "Yeah? Thought you Sinners thrived on chaos."

You glanced at the jacket hanging over your shoulder, then back at her. "Guess I'm not like the others." You weren't going to explain to a stranger that you technically aren't a Sinner but you also are.

She raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Clearly." There was a pause, then she gave you a once-over, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "So, what's a Sinner doing hiding out here, away from the action?"

You crossed your arms, feeling the pull of the conversation. "Could ask you the same thing. Vipers don't usually stray from their pack."

She let out a soft laugh, the sound almost lost in the night air. "Maybe I needed a break from all the posturing. You know how it is."

Posturing. What an interesting way to put it you thought to yourself. She wasn't wrong, but it was an oddly honest thing to bring up barely thirty seconds into the conversation. As intrigued as you are, you're also cautious.

You glanced her over in return, taking in her outfit—black combat boots, short black shorts, and a plain white tee, almost identical to the one you were wearing. It was shocking to see a girl from Summer Valley dressed so simply. But the simplicity suited her. She didn't need to be extravagant to stand out, if it wasn't for the jacket on her arm, you would've totally mistaken her for a flag girl, the ones who countdown the race. You've always heard that they're the most beautiful girls on the track, but clearly it wasn't the case tonight.

Your eyes met again, and something unspoken hung in the air between you. Two people from rival crews, both stepping away from the world that defined them.

She held your gaze. You didn't know what it was behind those intense brown eyes. Hatred, curiosity, attraction, a cry for help? You couldn't tell, but you also didn't want to define it. Defining it may mean having to look away. And you didn't want that. Maybe she didn't either, you doubt she would force herself to stay here with you if she didn't want to.

The universe however, had other plans. The voice of one of the flag girls crackled through the megaphone, cutting through the tension. "The big day is finally here!" The rest of her corny speech faded into the background as your focus remained on the girl in front of you. She tore her eyes from yours, sighed, and glanced back at her club.

"I have to go. See you around, Greaser."

"Greaser?" you echoed, raising a brow.

She smirked, giving you a slow, deliberate once-over before turning away.

As much as you wanted to watch her walk away, curiosity tugged at you, pulling your gaze down. You glanced at yourself and chuckled softly—faded blue jeans, white tee, and a black leather jacket. Yeah, you did kind of look like a greaser tonight.

But then you saw it. A grease stain on your shirt. You chuckled softly. So that's why.

You decided it was time to head back to your group. You return a bit more upbeat than when you'd left. As you approached, you noticed Anton climbing into the car you'd been working on earlier with the crew gathered around, wishing him luck before the race. That's when he spotted you at the edge of the crowd and waved you over. The group parted, and soon you were standing face to face with Anton.

"You look happy. Having fun?" he shouted over the roar of his engine and Percy's nearby.

"It's been pretty cool," you replied with a shrug, nodding along—though it wasn't the race itself you were enjoying, but who it had brought here.

Anton hummed in approval before dapping you up and pulling you into a quick hug. "I'll see you in a bit," he grinned, hyping up his team one last time before sliding into the driver's seat, Mason settling into the passenger side.

As Anton shut his door, your eyes drifted to the car next to his. You watched Percy with his crew, their energy almost a mirror of your own. But then you saw something that left you utterly confused.

The mystery girl. She was on her tiptoes, arms wrapped around Percy's neck in a hug that felt way too intimate for your liking.

Is she his girl? Disgusting. More thoughts crept in, but you quickly shut it down. She was a Viper, and you'd only talked to her for ten minutes. You didn't get to feel some type of way about it. She was just...intriguing. Nothing more.

You shook your head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Focus on the race, focus on Anton. You told yourself.

You take a step back and settle in a spot between Madison and Hunter as the flag girls strutted to the front of the starting line, their boots clicking against the asphalt. One girl raised a checkered flag high, her red lips curled into a seductive smile as she glanced at both drivers. The other girl held the megaphone to her lips.

"Racers, are you ready?!" Her voice echoed across the lot, the engines revving in response.

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!" Time seemed to slow. The crowd held its breath, and for a split second all that existed was the hum of engines, the gleam of metal, and the flashing lights.

Then, with a flick of her wrist, the flag girl swung the checkered flag down, and the cars exploded off the line.

Anton's car launched forward, while Percy's stayed right on his tail, neck and neck. The crowd erupted into cheers, the sheer speed of the cars leaving only a blur of metal behind them as they tore down the street.

With the cars gone you had nothing left to distract you from your thoughts. What were you genuinely doing here, you ask yourself.

Your eyes wandered back to the spot where you had last seen her. That girl—the one who had slipped into your mind with just a few words and a lingering look. Now, with Percy racing down the track, she stood with another Viper. This one was taller, with short hair, and they were both laughing, completely at ease with each other.

You laugh in disbelief shaking your head. This didn't seem like posturing to you, she seemed like she had fit right in. But again you catch yourself thinking, why were you even upset? She never said she hated her crew, she never said anything that implied she was like you, and now you wonder if you interpreted your interaction with her to something you wanted it to be rather than what it actually was.

The thought crept in, unwelcome. Maybe you were projecting your own loneliness, your desire to feel seen, onto someone who didn't even feel the same way. Someone who was just passing time in a moment. She was a Viper, fully a part of this world, while you were just an outsider passing through.

You turned to Madison and Hunter. "I'm gonna grab a drink. You guys want anything?"

They shook their heads, and you made your way to one of the cars stocked with drinks in the trunk. You opted for a soda rather than a beer.

You leaned against the car, slowly sipping your soda and trying to clear your head. The night had taken a strange turn—what started as excitement was now muddy with emotions you weren't sure how to handle. The hum of conversation and the occasional laughter from nearby crews were the only sounds cutting through the noise in your mind.

Then, suddenly, the atmosphere shifted.

It was subtle at first, a ripple of unease passing through the crowd. You heard hushed whispers and saw people glancing toward the far end of the lot. Then, like a wave crashing down, the sound of sirens pierced the night.

"Cops!" someone yelled, and the panic spread like wildfire.

People scrambled in every direction, grabbing their things and sprinting for their cars. Engines roared to life, and tires screeched as racers and spectators alike tried to escape before the police descended on the scene.

You tossed your soda to the ground, adrenaline surging through you as you looked around for Madison and Hunter, but they were already sprinting towards the opposite direction with the rest of the crew. You turned to follow, but something made you stop.

She wasn't moving.

In the chaos, you spotted her standing in the middle of the lot, frozen, her eyes wide but not making any attempt to run. She wasn't panicked—she looked more...indifferent, like the flashing red and blue lights didn't mean anything to her.

Without thinking, you darted towards her. Your heart pounded in your chest as you weaved through the fleeing crowd, the sound of sirens growing louder by the second. When you reached her, you didn't hesitate—you grabbed her arm and pulled her.

"Come on!" you shouted over the noise, but she barely reacted, her feet stumbling as you dragged her away from the open lot.

You didn't stop until you reached the mouth of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. You pulled her into the shadows, pressing your back against the wall as you caught your breath. She was in front of you, calm in a way that made no sense considering the chaos unfolding behind you.

She gazed at you, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she was catching her breath. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

You shot her a look, exasperated. "You're welcome."

The distant sound of police radios crackled through the air as you both stood in silence, waiting for the madness to pass.

"You really should be more careful," you said, trying to break the silence. "It's not safe out there, especially with the cops around."

She shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I guess I'm just used to it. But I appreciate the concern."

You couldn't help but feel a mix of admiration and curiosity. "So, what do you usually do in moments like this? Just... stand around?"

Her laughter was light, almost melodic. "Well, not exactly. Usually, I'd just blend in and keep my head down. But you've thrown a bit of a wrench in that plan."

"Is that a bad thing?" you asked, intrigued.

"Not necessarily," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's definitely unexpected."

You took a step closer, feeling the distance between you narrow. "And here I thought I was just being a good Samaritan."

"Good Samaritan, huh?" She raised an eyebrow, playful yet cautious. "Seems like you might be getting in over your head, then."

"Maybe I like the thrill," you shot back, trying to keep the mood light. But beneath the banter, you both knew the stakes were higher than either of you wanted to admit.

"Well, be careful what you wish for," she said softly, her expression shifting momentarily to something more serious. "Not everything is as exciting as it seems."

You paused, trying to decipher her words. There was a depth to her that hinted at more than she was letting on. But before you could ask, she turned her gaze back to the alley,

Your phone suddenly dinged, breaking the tension. You glanced at it and saw a message from Mason.

"Seems like the cops cut the race short. Your crew lives to see another day."

You chuckled, but she didn't respond, just watching you with her doe eyes. You thought about what it would be like to give in.

But just then, the light caught her wrist, glinting off the expensive bracelet she wore. The sight of it sent a jolt through you—a stark reminder that she was from Summer Valley, a Viper, and probably a handful you couldn't handle.

The realization hit hard, and you felt a rush of uncertainty. She was part of a world you didn't want to dive into, no matter how intriguing she might be.

You decide to walk off, out of the alley.

"Hey! Where are you going?" she called out, jogging to catch up.

"Home. The cops seem to be gone," you replied, keeping your tone light, words short.

The brown-eyed girl looked confused, she thought you were building a connection. Now you were suddenly dismissive, leaving without a word, and you could see her trying to process it.

"...Wait, um..." she stammered, hesitating as if searching for the right words.

You turned back, sensing the moment hanging between you. You had a feeling you knew what she was going to say, and a knot formed in your stomach.

You took a step back, breaking the spell. "I really should go," you said, your voice firm, not giving her a chance to speak. You turned away, leaving her standing there, a mixture of confusion and disappointment on her face.

With that, you turned and walked deeper into the night. You could feel her watching you, but you kept moving, the weight of your decision heavy in your chest. But telling her your name would mean chaos.

As you navigated the alley, Anton's words echoed in your mind. "Maybe this isn't your thing, and that's fine. But you've got to find what is. What's your purpose, your drive? What makes your heart race? What's worth risking everything for?"

You were sure it wasn't her. As much as you felt a connection, you couldn't get further involved with the race world. She was just a pretty girl you met, and seemed to have some semblance of intellectuality. You know how this ends and its not pretty. You had responsibilities waiting at home—your mom counting on you, the weight of family expectations pressing down like a heavy fog. You had to figure things out on your own, even if it meant leaving her behind.

You can't just be the calculated person that you are and then immediately start taking risks because your cousin told you to. This was your nature. Careful.

Still, a part of you wondered if the real risk was not in chasing the girl but in denying yourself the chance to discover what could truly make your heart race.

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