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angel-writes-skz-here · 2 months ago

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Seduction

Prof Minho x Student! Reader Synopsis: Minho's harsh words come back to bite him. A surprise guest visits you on campus, and life alerting decisions are made Warnings: SMUTTT, masturbating (m & f.), unprotected p in v (be safe!), pet names, oral (f receiving), angst, i think that's it. A/N: Omg i'm so surprised with how much love this lil fic has gotten! Thank you guys so much! Part 4 will be wild but for now, relish in part 3! As always, leave a comment to be added to the tag list!

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Consequences

Minho was a cold, calculated man. He didn’t normally take unnecessary risks, he wasn’t one to usually give into carnal desires whenever they hit, but y/n? She made him tick; and that terrified him.

He was so volatile around her, despite the way he held onto his composure. He let her suck him off under his desk in public for crying out loud. And the worst part, he wanted it just as badly if not more than she did. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her. The way she felt wrapped around him, the way her walls squeezed him as if she was made for him and him alone. His body ached for her, and to keep himself from going down a path he knew led to nothing but destruction, he used who or whatever he could.

He sat on his couch, cock in hand as he thought of you. The way your body was always exposed in some way or fashion, the way you showed him your panties or cleavage when ever you could, to try and rile him up. The way your hips swayed simply when you walked and didn’t realize he was paying too close attention. The way he would watch as your lips curved up in a smile when he seen you around campus with your friends. The way he would do anything to hear you laugh uncontrollably, like the day he shot you a look for it because it was disruptive.

Your name falls from his lips as his hand quickens, hips lifting into it like you’re above him. It doesn’t take long for him to finish, and he doesn’t have long, before he has to be back in time for your class.

He walks in, eyes flitting to your seat, a sickening feeling in his stomach. He tried to reason with himself. You weren’t taking the hint; he didn’t want you.

Err

He couldn’t have you. Which to him meant he couldn’t want you, because he knew himself too well. As good as he could resist, it couldn’t last. He tried being nice, tried to correct you softly, but you wouldn’t relent. He had to be mean. Had to be forceful. He had to scare you. That’s what he reassured himself of every time his heart ached when he thought of the look on your face when you left his office.

His class starts to file in, noticing you’re not in at your normal time, he furrows his brows, deciding the leave the door open an extra few minutes. Minho begins class, eyes constantly flitting from your seat to the door, ultimately leaving the door unlocked for the full length of class, just in case.

As he drones on, he can’t help but wonder where you are. Since the beginning of the year, you hadn’t missed a single day of his class. Maybe you were sick, maybe you just needed time.

However, as one day turned into three weeks, Minho was getting worried despite his better judgment. He’d emailed you a week ago saying you needed to come to class or you would flunk out. He never heard back, never seen you on campus, and his worry was eating away at him.

Had he been too harsh?

Was he too mean?

After yet another missed class he pulls out his cell phone dialing your number. Today he had to take attendance, and it was the second of three you could miss. He tried to be lenient, give you time, but he still had a job to do.

He waits, listens to it ring and hears your voice.

“Hey this is y/n, leave your message at the beep.”

Beep

Minho ponders hanging up for a moment, but clears his throat.

“This is Professor Lee, I’m calling to inform you that you need to come back to class. Your grade is quickly dropping and I’m willing to help you make it up, but you need to be here to do so. I expect to see you tomorrow for class, you can’t afford another missed attendance or you will fail my class.” He hangs up, guilt blooming in his chest.

You feel your phone vibrate seeing a voice mail you pick up the phone and press play. Minho’s voice cuts on and as quickly as it began, you cut it off. You holed yourself up in your room for a few days before going to your other classes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to Psychology. Not yet.

His words still ring in your head.

‘Y/n that’s all it was, I used you for my own personal release. Because that’s all you were good for.’

The last sentence cuts deep. Sure, it was a one-night stand, you told him to use you, but you were never supposed to see him again. He was meant to be a good memory; a ghost. Nothing more.

He didn’t have to look so wicked when the words fell from the lips you desperately wanted to kiss. The words echo in your skull, tears welling up in your eyes once again.

Later that night you hear a knock at your door. You drag yourself out of bed, hair a mess, eyes puffy, clothes frumpy.

You open the door and see a face you weren’t expecting.

“Hayden?” you ask shocked.

“Hey, y/n.” he smiles.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I missed my girl, and wanted to come see you.” He pulls you into him, kissing the top of your head.

“Technically I’m not your girl,”

“Y/n, we’re on a break while you’re here. You’re still mine, and I’m still yours, regardless of any meaningless one-night stands or stupid drunken mistakes.” He reasons as he walks into the dorm with you. Guilt pangs your chest; even if you are a single woman.

“But I’m here, so let’s do something. I missed you like crazy.” He cups your face placing a kiss on your nose. That’s when he sees your face. Your eyes red and puffy, and the little sniffle you do.

“Woah what the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine. Come on, I’ll get dressed and we can go get something to eat. You gotta be starving.” You smile.

Minho is in his office late that night, thoughts of you weaving through his mind. He really has started to miss you, in spite of your teasing, he missed your presence. Something about you, while entirely frustrating, was fun. Challenging even. You weren’t like the other girls who would pine from afar.

You aren’t turned off by his harsh exterior, or you weren’t, until you were.

He exits his office, heading to the student center to grab a bite to eat before making his way back home. He steps inside the large cafeteria-esque room eyes scanning the room to see his array of choices when his eyes land on you for the first time in weeks.

And you’re with someone.

A boy.

He feels a pang of jealousy rise up. He hasn’t seen you in weeks, granted not that he deserved to for any other reason other than he was your professor. But still, his curiosity peaked. He could see your body shake with laughter as he walked to your table; social graces be damned.

You feel his presence before you see him, and when he walks up to the table, your body goes rigid.

“Ms. Y/L/N. Glad to see you’re still alive.” He says sarcastically.

“Professor Lee,” you say as you can feel your ex boyfriend’s eyes on the two of you.

“I’m Hayden,” he speaks up reaching out to shake Minho’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” he flits his eyes to the boy.

“I hope you being out and about means I’ll be seeing you in class tomorrow.” You quirk a brow before scoffing at his audacity and shrugging your shoulders.

“If I have it my way, this pretty little lady won’t be going back to class.” Hayden smirks and Minho’s body goes rigid, his own brow lifting before he turns his attention to your ex.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, this lil vixen here’s got me going crazy. She may be too sore,” he snickers and you are helpless as you watch Minho grab him by the collar and pull him up, their noses touching.

“Do. Not. Speak. about her like that. Do you understand me? Or we will have problems.” He seethes. Hayden’s eyes are big as saucers.

“It was a joke man,” he stammers before Minho lets him go. Hayden’s face is in utter shock as your mouth hangs open.

“Ms. Y/L/N I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” Minho says with a nod of his head as he walks away like nothing happened.

You and Hayden share a look.

“What the hell is his problem,” he shoots a glare Minho’s direction. You follow Hayden’s eyes, noticing the way he stands there in line, cool, calm and collected; your heart racing in your chest.

“No clue,” you lie.

The next day you walk in the door as Minho turns to make his way to it. You see a faint smile on his face, until Hayden walks in behind you.

“My seat is up front, so sit here and chill.” You tell him. You make your way down to your seat and sit down opening your laptop.

Minho starts his lesson, eyes flitting between you and Hayden the whole class. It goes by smoothly, no disruptions, no teasing from you, you’re rather stoic and composed. Nothing like what your professor is used to. Minho finds himself missing your antics.

The bell rings, and Hayden walks up to you helping you pack your things away before you turn on your heels to leave.

“Y/n!” Minho calls out. You sigh.

“I need to speak with you this afternoon, please come by during my office hours,” he casually requests, “Alone.” He narrows his eyes at Hayden who looks confused.

“Yeah, whatever.” You say as you take his hand in yours, Minho’s stomach in knots at the sight; disgust filling his entire being. He’s losing his grip on reality little by little, only this time, it’s not due to your teasing.

You knock on Minho’s door.

“Come in,” he calls out to you.

“You wanted to speak with me?” Minho’s eyes rake over your body, noting the sweatpants and loose t shirt, tied up hair and glasses.

“What no short skirt today?” He asks, brow quirked.

“Excuse me?” Your brows furrow as your voice is sharp and warning.

“You heard me.” He says without looking away from his computer.

“Have a seat, we need to discuss your grade.”

“Am I failing?” You ask with a certain air of reservation as you sit in the leather seat. The thought of him bending your math teacher over the very desk he’s sitting at plays in your head, harsh emotions daring to pop up

“Almost,”

“But I’m not?”

“Technically no,” Minho sighs.

“Then there’s nothing to talk about.” You stand up and make your way to the door.

“Y/n,” he breathes pinching the bridge of his nose.

You don’t turn around, you can’t.

“If you miss one more class of mine you’ll have to retake it and you being here on a student visa means you don’t exactly have the time to do that. You need to get your grade up.” He scolds lightly. A hint of softness in his voice.

“I have homework, Professor Lee. If I’m not failing, I’ll be fine. No one said a diploma needed an A plus average.” You go to turn the knob but a hand presses against the door. You can feel the heat radiating off him just behind you.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you,” he says in your ear, voice sincere. You smile cynically.

“Why? All I’m good for is to be used.” You bite back. He sighs.

“Y/n, please.” His hand tentatively moves to your hip. Your breath hitches as your eyes shut, the way his hand feels on you is unreal. It’s like a livewire; electric and dangerous.

“I need to leave.” Your voice is quiet. He moves his lips to your ear.

“Please come back to class. I don’t want to see you fail.” He pleads and for a moment you think he’s sincere. You shutter as his breath hits you and his lips ghost your ear.

Without another word, you open the door and quickly escape his grip; head spinning in confusion.

Over the next week Hayden stays, the two of you getting visibly close again. He meets Duri, follows you to other classes, stays by your side almost 24/7. But as time does, it goes and the week comes to an end.

“I’m just saying, you could come back home with me, if you wanted to.” He says as he packs his suit case.

“Hayden, I can’t leave,” you chuckle but the way he looks at you, you can tell he’s serious.

“Wait, you’re serious?”

“You can study social work anywhere; it doesn’t have to be here.” He reasons.

“No, but I’m not just here for school, it’s a chance to travel, get to know other cultures and understand other backgrounds and heritages. It’s a way to expand my knowledge in the real world too.” You explain.

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem too happy. You keep saying nothing is wrong, but I can tell something is bothering you, I just don’t know what.” He sits down on your bed.

“You take midterms in a few weeks, pass those and you can transfer colleges to one in the states. Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” He says before placing a kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes close as his lips touch your forehead. You fist his collar, bringing his lips to yours in a deep and messy kiss, your hands threading through his dark hair, breath mixing as you try to pull him closer.

“God, I hope this means you’re coming home soon,” he says against your lips.

“It means I want to fuck you before you leave.” You breathe as you capture his lips again.

“And get Minho out of my head,” you think to yourself as your back hits the bed.

Its two weeks after Hayden leaves, the thought of leaving has been floating around in your head more and more. As much as you want to stay, seeing Minho everyday is hard. Even if you transferred classes, there are days where being on the same campus as him hurts.

You decided last week to go home, you were able to get a flight out Saturday morning, the morning after your big birthday bash. Duri had promised to make it a birthday to remember and that you guys would stay in touch even if you were half a world away.

Thankfully mid terms meant you were holed up in your dorm studying all week, and it was the last day of testing, and your birthday. Which meant after your psychology midterm, it’s party time.

The midterm comes, and as you take the test, your eyes flit to Minho’s desk, where his eyes are on you almost every time, and he doesn’t look away, he doesn’t smile, just stares. You pull your eyes away from him, trying to focus and finish your test.

Back in your dorm, you’re double checking everything, making sure you don’t forget anything. You leave your suit cases by the door as you look at your self in the mirror one last time, smiling to yourself. Tonight isn’t about Minho or the drama that seemed to surround the two of you, it’s about you turning nineteen and having a blast.

The party is in full swing, alcohol, sweaty college kids, and substances as far as the eye could see; powders lined tables, pills littering rooms on the carpeting. You’d come with Duri who unfortunately got sick not long after you arrived and you decided to stay without her. It’s your birthday after all. And the boys are making sure you feel special. You have a sash around you that says birthday girl, pink and white, matching the pretty pink bodycon dress that left very little to the imagination.

The music thumps as you brace on the keg, everyone shouting as they lift you up and you drink from it, your feet in the air. The party slowly started to blur, alcohol reaching your blood, that fuzzy feeling kicking in. You’re stumbling around the party, giggly from the second-hand smoke.

“I gotta go home,” you slur to one of Duri’s friends, Taehoon.

“Come on, y/n the party has just gotten started.” He slings an arm around your shoulder. You giggle as you lean into his side.

“Mmm, got a flight to catch,” you stumble as he keeps an arm around you as you walk.

“Ugh, at least have one last good time before you go?”

“No more drinks.” You shake your head. You’d managed to stay away from most of the drugs, until Taehoon holds out a little pink pill.

“Whatssit for?”

“Motivation,” he smirks. You furrow your brows but hold your tongue out flat for him.

“Ah, look at you. Such a good little girl,” he mocks as he places it on your tongue.

“Now swallow,” he instructs as you do so.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

You begin walking down the road when about ten minutes into the walk you start to feel funny.

“Y/n?” you hear your name being called. Your vision is slightly blurry; you rub your eyes.

“Professor Lee. How’s my favorite teacher?” the boy kisses up to him. Your heart thrums in your ears as your vision begins to clear again. Feeling only a little dizzy.

“Fine, I see how you’re spending your evening.” He gestures to you. He halfheartedly laughs it off.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Minho asks as you start adjusting your dress, suddenly very overwhelmed by the material.

“I should probably get her home,” the guy begins to walk.

“I’ll make sure she gets home, Taehoon. Go back to your party,” he says and you feel a firm grip come around your waist. His hand burns against your body, despite the dress.

You furrow your brows and look down, noticing it. Before Taehoon can utter a response, Minho is pulling you with him.

“Woah- hey!” you shriek as he pulls you off in the direction away from the house.

“You mind tell him me why you’re touching me!” You struggle against him, but he only holds you closer to his side not answering you.

“Let me go,” you wiggle in his grip but your body begins to feel warmer. You make a few grunting noises, followed by a few whines, as your body gets uncomfortable.

“Here, get in,” he holds the door open for you. You sit in the seat, still squirming, a slight pulse being found between your thighs. You can feel the sweat cling to your body, your thighs squeezing together trying to soothe the slight ache in between them.

Minho gets in, hearing the quiet whimpers watching as you keep adjusting and re adjusting your dress. He can see the way your chest is heaving.

“Are you ok?” Minho asks, his hand find its way to your thigh to grab your attention.

You practically moan at the contact. Your face flushes when he looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“’m s-sorry,” you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your hands not to go where you want contact the most.

“What’s going on with you? You’re sweaty and you can’t sit still. What the hell did you take?”

“I don’t know,” you whine hips grinding into the car seat.

“Hurts,” you whimper as you shamelessly try to dig your hips into the seat, begging for friction.

“Woah- shit,” Minho curses as he watches you.

This isn’t good.

He pulls up to his house just off campus and helps you inside. You can’t control the small whines and whimpers, your body feeling as though it’s on fire.

“What are we doing here?” you ask between whines.

“Just a precaution, so I know you’re safe.” He says closing the door behind you.

“Fuck,” you whimper out as you squeeze your thighs together and tuck your face into his neck.

“Minho it hurts so bad,” you sob into his neck and he takes a deep breath. Your hot breath on his neck isn’t helping matters.

“Ok, let’s get you into a bath. That should help you cool down.” He gently leads you to the bathroom. You’re grabbing at your dress, desperate to be free from the suffocating material. By the time you’re in the bathroom. It’s half way down, your chest exposed to the cool air of his house.

Minho is doing his best not to look at you, keeping his eyes forward.

“Go ahead, I’ll start the water.” He says as he deliberately doesn’t look at you. You step into the water, the contact from that not helping. You moan as you sink into it, the water not cooling you off any, but feeling good against your flesh. His lips purse as he turns his back and as his hand is put on the knob, he hears it.

A small gasp before an uncontrollable moan leaves your lips. He freezes, the sound going straight to his cock. He grabs the knob, forcing himself out and slams the door behind him.

How long would you play these games? Was it all a set up? Had you done this on purpose? He warned you and yet here you were, testing him. He could hear you, the moaning getting louder, whimpering turning into full on screams as your fingers worked against your bud, begging for release. And when he hears it, how pretty you sound when it hits, he’s done for. His lip is bleeding from how hard he’s chewing on it. The house goes quiet, and Minho wills himself to turn the TV on. Maybe you were ok now.

Maybe.

You sit in the tub, the burn, sting, and desire not even hardly fading. You’re gasping for air, body writhing in the water. You can’t make it stop.

You force yourself out of the tub, not even bothering with clothes or a towel, drying off so you don’t drip water, and walk out to see Minho sipping his tea in front of the tv. When his eyes cast to your body, he chokes on the tea as the cup is taken away from his lips in haste.

“What the fuck y/n. What did I not make clear to you, I,”

“Minho please,” you whimper, tears brimming your eyes at the red-hot feeling of your body.

“I can’t do it myself I tried, I can’t,” you cry as you lift up your long acrylic nails, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just,” you gasp looking for the words, “ I need help,” you let the tears flow and Minho furrows his brows.

Holy shit. You aren’t kidding.

“What, I, what do you want me to do?”

His voice is shaky, unsure, as he stands up and comes to shield you from the light and vulnerability in the room.

“Please, just, touch me, make it stop.” Your bottom lip pouts and he can’t hold himself back anymore.

Minho’s lips find yours in a needy hot kiss. His hands go to your waist automatically and you gasp, the feeling electric. He pulls you to his bedroom, pushing you back on the bed as he begins to pull at his tie. He flings it across the room, along with his shirt.

“This is just to ease your pain,” he lies to you and himself. Sure, that was the excuse, but Minho knew sooner or later he’d give in.

You’re sitting up on your elbows as you watch him remove his shirt before hovering over you.

“Just lay back, and trust me, ok?” He strokes your cheek with a gentleness you haven’t seen before, both present in his touch and his eyes.

His lips find your collar bone, leaving open mouthed kisses behind. He can feel you squirm beneath him, as he trails kisses down your stomach he watches you through his lashes; no teasing, no harsh movements.

He settles between your thighs, fingers spreading you open, tongue immediately circling your bud.

You gasp, back arching off the bed, hand flying to this head.

“Ah-ha,” you choke out, eyes screwing shut, His tongue is quick, firmly pressing against you. Your hips quickly start to grind against his face.

“P-please, ah, fuck yes, please Minho, fingers,” you sob out as you hold him close to your core. He does as you instruct, slowly inserting one finger into your hole, curling it and pumping it.

“Fuck,” you shriek. Your body could hardly keep up with how good everything felt, how overwhelming it was. He adds another without warning, keeping his pace.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper as you feel the tight coil in your belly. As he works you up to it, he holds your thigh; fingers pressing into it so hard you know there will be bruises the next morning. Your coil explodes in your stomach, euphoria hitting every single nerve ending. You gasp for air, feeling the burn start to fade. Your chest rises and falls as Minho cleans you up with his tongue.

“Fuck you taste so much better than I imagined,” he says to himself. You’re too busy trying to see straight to hear him. He kisses your mound, up your pelvis, nipping at your hips and sucking at them a little, lips trailing back up to yours.

“Taste yourself,” he says as he holds your jaw between his thumb and other fingers firmly, forcing you to look at him.

His nose, lips and chin are shiny as he comes down to connect your lips, his tongue freely moving in your mouth. You moan as your taste hits your taste buds, his tongue massaging yours.

Your hands go to either side of his neck, the two of you kissing each other as if you’ll disappear from one another if you stop. So, you don’t. You breathe against each other, tongues dancing together in an intricate and intimate dance.

Minho finally pulls away, lips kiss swollen as he looks down at you, chest heaving as yours does.

“Feel better?” he asks pointedly.

“A little,” you say sheepishly, head still fuzzy. He purses his lips, getting off you and walking out of the room. He comes back with a rag, words not being spoken as you rise up back to your elbows watching him clean you up. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t smile or say a word, just cleans. You watch him leave, and he’s gone for a moment, bringing you back a shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts.

“You can wear this tonight, and I’ll take you to your dorm in the morning.” He says coldly.

“Minho,” you call and he stops, facing the bedroom door, listening.

“I, I want you to stay,” you admit before slipping on the shirt.

“Please,” you whisper before pulling your hair out of the collar. You slip on the shorts and he sighs.

“Y/n that’s not a good idea.”

“Please, I, I’m freaked out. I don’t wanna be alone and I don’t know what’s happening to me.” Your voice is audibly desperate and scared.

“You were drugged with something, I just don’t know what.” He tries to stay distant, but his voice gives away his own concern.

“Minho, please, I’m scared.” You reach out and touch his arm. He turns to look at you.

“Fine, only because you’re scared, but this changes nothing.” He admonishes.

You nod and crawl into bed, cuddling up next to him.

Little did you know, Minho could and would hold you forever if he was able to. Fate simply didn’t seem to want to give him that chance.

Or maybe it did, and he was scared to take it.

About thirty minutes later, Minho sound asleep, it’s back. The burning desire, the want, the way your clit catches at the subtlest squeeze of your thighs and you can’t help but hiss at the contact.

You groan into your pillow, Minho waking up to your small but constant movements. He rubs his eyes, looking at you, desperately trying to rut into his mattress like a bitch in heat.

“What the hell is going on?”

“It’s back,” you moan, your bud catching just right.

“And it’s worse, every little thing feels like it’s setting me on fire,” you groan as you toss the shirt off again.

“Y/n, stop.” He tries to still your hips, but you can’t, you won’t. You need release.

“I’ll make you feel better. Just stop,” the words stop you in your tracks.

You slip the boxer shorts off, Minho slipping his own off, cock springing free.

“Lay down,” he instructs as he fingers your core, gently pumping in and out, feeling how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he growls. He gets a condom from the bedside table.

“No, please, I need as much of you as I can, please, I’m desperate,” you stop him. He sighs as he drops the condom down on the table leaning down to kiss your lips as he lines himself up at your entrance.

You feel the tip push in, and you gasp, the feeling better than words could ever describe. He pushes in slow, letting you feel the way he fills you up, wall to wall. You shudder against his shoulder as he bottoms out, both of your foreheads resting against the other’s body.

“Fuck I forgot how good you feel around my cock,” he whispers, stroking your hair. Your words are gone, the feelings intense.

“’s good, so good, please m-move, I want it,” you babble and he shushes you. Your hands grip his biceps as he slowly pulls out, only to quickly push himself back in, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Tell me what feels good, Kitten,” he murmurs in your ear, voice gentle.

“Harder,” you say as your lips attach to his neck, sucking a bruise to the base of it. His hips buck into you harder, your nails scratching down his back as his hips pound into you.

“Fuck, faster, please,” you pant. Minho knows exactly what you need, and he can’t give it to you this way. He pulls out, you whimpering at the loss of contact before he flops you on your belly.

He grabs a fist full of hair, angles your hips up, and rams into you, causing you to scream in pleasure.

Your eyes roll back into your head, skin on skin echoing in the room amongst your cries of pleasure. Minho pulls your body up against his, your back to his chest as he thrusts, both of you panting as you chase your highs.

“Kiss me,” you breathe out. He connects your lips in a sloppy kiss, tongues gliding, moans being swallowed, your fingers tangling in his hair as his comes around and hold you by your tits, fingers circling your nubs.

“You want me to touch you?” he asks against your mouth. You can only whimper in response.

His left arm hooks around you, hips still going, as his other hand snakes around finding your puffy clit.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss as he begins to rub it.

“Fuck, fuck, it’s too much,” you sob.

“You can do it, Kitten. You wanted to get fucked, don’t be rude. Take what I give you,” he instructs in your ear. The overstimulation is crazy, your hips grinding down against his cock, walls clamping around him like a vice.

“Aww, fuck,” he growls as feels it, lips attaching to your shoulder. A few tears stream down your face in pleasure as he rubs faster and harder, and your hands grip his arms as your orgasm rips through you white hot. Stars in your vision as your body violently shakes around him, Minho pulling out, helping you lay down, before pumping himself quickly, making himself cum.

His sounds are heavenly and you watch the sight before you, a lazy and satisfied smirk on your face.

You watch his chest rise and fall, his eyes slowly dragging over your frame until they meet yours. You see the smallest smile on his face. He grabs the rag from earlier, wiping himself clean before leaning over and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“How do you feel now?” he smirks.

“Much better,” you smile as you kiss him again.

He takes the rag to the bathroom, feeling content with his life for once. He gets another rag to re clean you up, and when he comes back, you’re body is limp, eyes half lidded.

“You’re tired,” he teases as he uses the cloth to clean up the second mess he’s made tonight. Your hips jolt as he touches your clit.

“Sorry,” he mutters as he takes his time before placing a kiss to the top of your thigh.

“You’re still gonna stay with me, right?” you call out.

“If you want me to,” he says as he enters the room. He slips into the other side of the bed, pulling you to him, nestling you in his warmth.

He kisses your forehead, silence blanketing you.

“You ok?” he whispers.

“Mhm,” you murmur.

“Do you need anything? Water, snack, space?”

“Nope,” you say as you grin up at him. You take the time to memorize his face. His dark eyes, brown hair, soft sweet skin and lips. Your hand comes up to cradle his cheek for a moment before you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Good night,” you whisper as you turn around in his arms.

The next morning the sunlight shines into the window of Minho’s bedroom. He squints his eyes, looking around the room. Memories of last night come flooding in as he feels the sheets against his flesh. But you aren’t in the bed. He pulls on a pair of sweatpants.

“Y/n?” he calls out.

No response. He notices the shorts he lent you last night on the floor, but the t shirt is nowhere to be found.

“Y/n!” he calls again.

Nothing. He checks the rooms, but doesn’t find you.

He walks into the kitchen, seeing a note on the counter.

Thanks for the release. It was all you were good for.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thatonegirlonhere @thelovelybireader @channieehrtz @voicesinmyhead-rc @girlblogger-04 @sea1884 @kissesmellow21 @lily409 @kttb @esterxioo @pinkkiluvvmina @slutformyloveleeminho @yaorzu-blog @only14hsng

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Love notes and comments are greatly appreciated!

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 4 months ago

Text

exhibitionism

part VI

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: He dressed you up, paraded you through rooms full of monsters, made you beg for release with a smile on his lips and a hand on your throat. He didn’t just want their eyes on you—he needed them to know you were his. Fuck the price of that drink anyway.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben once again being his own warning, age gap, language, misogyny, drug consumption, smut (kissing, biting, marking, slapping, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, overstim, forced orgasms, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, cum on face, throttling, rough sex, semi-public sex, somnophilia, sexsomnia, dub-con, orgasm control/denial), mind games, manipulation, degradation, power imbalance, I may have missed some. (There's a bunch in this one, agh!)

Word Count: 6,817

A/N: It's done!!!!! Omg!!!! I am so sorry for how long this took. And I can only thank you guys for the reception to this series. I've loved every second of it. <3 God, do I hope I've proofread this one properly. I also LOVED writing Victoria into this one. I love Neuman so much. :') Please give me any feedback, my disgusting little mind loves hearing y'alls thoughts on my depravity. Smin signing off. Over and out. All the love.

Without further ado: EXHIBITIONISM

Power is not taken. It is given.

A glance across the bar. A drink set down without a word. A hand at the small of your back, guiding you somewhere you don’t belong.

It starts small—a single indulgence, a breathless yes.

Then, suddenly, you are on display. Draped over his lap, diamonds at your throat, whiskey on your lips. A possession. A prize. A thing to be seen.

Because men like him do not love. They own.

Friday evening.

The end of the week, the start of his time.

You stood in your bathroom, steam curling around you, skin still dewy from the bath, a towel wrapped loosely around your body as you moved through the motions. Moisturiser. Perfume. Little rituals that felt more like routine now.

The bag on your bed was barely packed. A formality more than a necessity. There wasn't much you needed to take—Ben already had everything for you at his place. Clothes, toiletries, things you hadn't even thought to buy for yourself.

You glanced around your apartment, the one he picked, the one he paid for. It was beautiful, curated, a place that should have felt like home. It didn't. Not really.

It felt like a waiting room. A place you stayed until it was time to go back to him.

Your stomach fluttered at the thought, and you weren't sure if it was anticipation or something else. Something darker.

Last weekend replayed in your head in flashes. Hot. Filthy. Unrelenting.

The sex on the floor—feral, desperate, raw. The way he dragged you against him, fucked into you with bruising force, kept pushing and pushing until you broke apart above him. The way he came with his hands gripping your hips like a vice, eyes wild, jaw tight, filth spilling from his lips.

Then later—another round, softer, slower, but just as consuming. The way he woke you up in the morning, face between your legs, hands pinning your thighs apart like he had no intention of letting you go. The low groans against your skin, the way his tongue worked you open, lazy and indulgent.

Lunch was an afterthought, a moment of normalcy that never lasted. The dinner you made? Completely forgotten the second he reached across the table, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you into his lap. The food went cold while he fucked you against the dining room chair, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your ass, growling Mine, mine, mine.

Sunday, he took you out for a drive. One of his vintage cars, because apparently, he had an entire fucking collection. The speed, the power, the way he smirked as you clutched the seatbelt while he pushed the car to its limits—everything about him screamed excess.

Then the week came, and you fell back into your other life. Classes, textbooks, essays, deadlines. But even then, he bled into it. Your remaining books arrived at your apartment, courtesy of Ben. So did a box of toys, lingerie, things you wouldn't have even known to ask for. You never questioned how he knew your sizes.

Tonight though? You had no idea what he had planned. The thought thrilled you. And maybe, just maybe—it terrified you too.

The knock came sharp and impatient, cutting through the quiet of your apartment. You blinked at the door, surprised—it wasn’t time yet. Ben was never early.

Then—

"Open up, love. Need to take a fuckin’ slash. Normally wouldn’t ask, but I’m about to piss meself."

Butcher.

You huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes as you padded over, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

He stood there, looking as unimpressed and impatient as ever, arms crossed over his chest like he had better places to be.

"You couldn’t have gone before you got here?"

"What, and use a public loo? Be serious." He grunted, stepping past you without waiting for an invitation. "Where’s the shitter?"

You just shook your head, smirking as you gestured down the hall. "Same place it’s always been. You did find this apartment, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I find ‘em, Ben buys ‘em. Ain’t that how this works?"

You didn’t answer. Just watched him disappear into the bathroom while you turned back toward your bedroom, finishing the last touches of getting ready. Your bag sat open on the bed, barely filled. Just a formality at this point. You didn’t need to take much—Ben had everything waiting for you at his place. Everything.

Perfume. Final touch-ups. A glance in the mirror, and you were ready.

When you walked back out, Butcher was already by the door, arms crossed again, watching you like he was assessing something.

"Ben said to make sure you got to the car safe."

You scoffed. "It’s literally right outside."

"Yeah, well." Butcher shrugged. "'E’s particular about things, ain't he."

That was an understatement.

You grabbed your bag, shaking your head as you stepped past him, heading toward the elevator. Butcher followed, hands in his pockets, too relaxed, too knowing. The car was already warm when you slid into the backseat, the city stretching out beyond the windshield as Butcher started the drive to Ben’s. You exhaled, settling in. The leather seats were too familiar now, the routine too easy.

A thought struck, and you glanced up toward the rearview mirror. "You know what we’re doing tonight?"

Butcher smirked. "Course I do."

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"Nope. Not allowed to spoil the surprise."

Your stomach twisted. That meant you weren’t just spending the night in. That meant Ben had plans. You weren’t sure whether to be excited or terrified. Maybe both.

The car slowed to a familiar crawl, the towering silhouette of Ben’s building swallowing the skyline, all glass and steel and quiet menace. Your stomach twisted—not with nerves anymore, not really. With anticipation. With hunger. With the ache that only he could satisfy.

Butcher didn’t say a word until he pulled to the curb. Just flicked his eyes toward you in the rearview and muttered, "Go on, then. Try not to be late next time."

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your bag, and stepped into the city’s pulse.

The lobby swallowed you whole in a hush of marble and low lighting, security nodding without a word as you crossed to the elevator. Everyone here already knew who you were.

Ben’s girl.

The elevator purred upward. Your reflection in the polished chrome walls stared back at you—lips glossed, dress strap slipping from your shoulder, hair curled just enough to look like you hadn’t tried too hard.

You looked like something curated.

The second the elevator doors opened, he was there. And then he was on you. He didn’t wait. Didn’t say hello. Just grabbed you by the waist and dragged you inside, kicking the door shut behind him with a low grunt, his mouth already crashing down on yours.

Hot. Claiming. Open. Tongue and teeth and possession.

Your bag slipped from your hand. You didn’t even notice.

His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face as he devoured you, groaning low against your lips like he’d been waiting days to taste you again.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped between kisses, lips brushing yours, then your cheek, then your jaw. “Missed you. Been thinkin' about tonight all fuckin’ week.”

You barely got a breath in before he was on you again. Hands under your ass, palming the curves he paid for and protected like art.

Your laugh was breathless, dazed. “Hi to you too.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded and greedy, lips wet and parted.

“Don’t need ‘hi,’” he muttered. “Need you. Right now.”

You melted. You always melted.

His hand smacked your ass once, hard enough to make you jump. He grinned at the reaction. “Come on,” he said, tugging you along. “Got your dress ready.”

Your heart fluttered. “You picked it out?”

“Course I did.” He looked over his shoulder with a crooked smirk. “You think I’m gonna let you wear whatever the fuck you want to somewhere like this?”

The bedroom door swung open, and there it was. Laid out like an offering. Cream satin. Barely there. Draped like water, strappy, cut to cling. It shimmered under the soft light, delicate and obscene.

You blinked. “It matches your shirt.”

Ben smirked, tugging his own cuffs down, the fabric clinging to his arms. His dress pants fit like sin, tailored within an inch of their life, the crisp line down his thigh pulling your eyes right where he wanted them.

“Yeah,” he drawled, smoothing a hand down his stomach. “Thought we’d coordinate. Make it real obvious you’re mine.”

You couldn’t stop staring at his thighs. Or his ass. Or the way the muscles in his back flexed under the thin fabric.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

His smirk sharpened. “Wanna ride it?” He asked, voice low, dirty. “Get your slick all over my pants? Hump me like a fuckin’ desperate little doll?”

Your breath hitched. You nodded before you could think.

Ben stepped closer. Close enough for his breath to ghost across your lips. His mouth hovered over yours, and you could already taste him.

Then—

“Too bad,” he whispered into your mouth. “We’re already late.”

And then he pulled away, leaving you reeling, skin hot, thighs clenching, dress untouched. You were already undone, and the night hadn’t even started.

You stepped toward the bed, the soft sigh of satin whispering beneath your fingertips as you lifted the dress. It felt like liquid in your hands—cream-coloured, near-sheer in the light, slinky and obscene, the fabric cool and supple as it slipped through your fingers. It had no sleeves, only delicate straps that promised to sit high and tight on your shoulders, leaving the curve of your collarbones and back exposed to the world.

The neckline was a shallow cowl, dipping just enough to hint at the tops of your breasts, but the real danger was the hem—indecently short, barely grazing mid-thigh. One wrong movement and the dress would bare you entirely.

Ben lounged in the doorway, watching like he was starving.

"You gonna let me see, or you just gonna stand there fondlin' it all night?"

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were already flushing. You turned away, stepping out of your clothes with a practiced grace you hadn’t known you’d learned until now. His gaze burned into your back, heavy and indulgent.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ," he muttered, voice low and sharp. "That ass is a goddamn masterpiece."

You slipped the dress over your head, the satin cascading down your skin like a lover’s tongue, clinging to every dip, every curve. When you turned, his breath caught—audibly.

He stepped forward slowly, like a man approaching a shrine.

"Turn around," he rasped. "Slow. Let me see it all."

You obeyed.

His groan rumbled deep in his chest. "Fuck, baby. You look like sex and royalty had a kid."

You glanced down, brushing invisible wrinkles from the fabric, your skin prickling beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"You done ogling?"

"Not even fuckin’ close," he breathed.

He crossed to you, unhurried, one hand dragging down your arm to where your fingers were still clutching the hem.

"Heels. Now."

You slipped into the little black stilettos he’d left out for you—simple, strappy, cruel. They elevated you just enough to make your legs look endless. You felt dizzy already.

When you looked up, Ben was holding a small velvet box. He popped it open with one thumb.

Gold, emerald, and pearl.

The necklace glinted like it had been plucked from royalty. Emeralds the exact shade of his eyes, cut to catch the light and throw it back like fire. The pearls were soft, creamy, luminous against the sharper stones.

Matching earrings. A delicate clip for your hair.

“Ben—”

“I fuckin’ know,” he murmured. “They’re perfect. Like you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He took the necklace out, stepping behind you. His fingers brushed your neck, and you shivered as he fastened it in place. The cool metal kissed your skin like a promise.

Then the earrings, one by one, careful, reverent. The clip came last—nestled just above your ear, gleaming against your hair like something holy.

When you turned to face him again, his expression had darkened. His tongue swept slowly over his bottom lip, then he bit down on it, hard.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he said, voice hoarse. “I should cancel tonight. Should drown between your fuckin' thighs instead. Spend hours there. Days. Never come up for air.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Ben.”

He stepped in, chest brushing yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other ghosting down the front of your thigh.

“I mean look at you,” he said, nose dragging up the side of your neck. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. You got any idea what you do to me, baby? Any idea what it’s gonna take for me to keep my hands off you tonight?”

Your breath hitched.

He grinned, then reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and smooth. He pressed it into your palm.

A toy. Discreet. Sleek. Wicked.

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear.

“Put it in,” he whispered. “You got five minutes, doll.”

You swallowed hard.

He smirked. “Remote’s in my pocket. Which means your night? Belongs to me.”

The toy felt obscene in your hand. Small. Innocent, almost—until you slid it inside and realised just how not innocent it was.

You braced a hand on the bathroom counter, heart fluttering as the slick heat of it settled deep inside you. It didn’t vibrate. Not yet. But it felt like a wire pulled tight beneath your skin.

You straightened your dress, adjusted the hem. Checked your lipgloss. And stepped back out into the fire. Ben was waiting by the elevator, jacket slung over his shoulder, jaw working as he looked you up and down. He grinned the second your eyes met.

“Got it in, baby?”

You nodded once, already breathless.

“Good,” he said, hitting the button. “You look fuckin’ edible. Might not make it out of this building.”

The doors opened. You stepped in first. He followed. And the second the doors slid shut, he pressed the remote. The vibration hit low and sharp, punching a gasp out of you. Your knees buckled. Your hand flew out to brace against the mirrored wall.

Ben laughed. Deep and smug. Ravenous.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted.

He winked. Click. It stopped.

“Just checkin’ it works,” he said, casual as ever. “Wouldn’t wanna take faulty gear out in the wild.”

The elevator opened.

You tried to remember how to walk.

The air outside hit your skin like glass—cool and sharp and thick with the city’s low hum. The black car idled at the curb, Butcher leaning against the hood, arms crossed, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

He flicked it away when he saw you and pulled the door open without a word.

Ben helped you in first, one hand firm on your lower back, another trailing down the curve of your ass as you bent to slide in.

“Gotta start wearin’ longer dresses, sweetheart,” he muttered. “Or don’t. Shit, don’t.”

You flushed and sank into the leather seat. Ben climbed in beside you, legs wide, arm already around your shoulders like a fucking throne.

Butcher glanced in the rearview, deadpan. “Jesus. You two done dry-humpin’ or we takin’ the scenic route tonight?”

Ben grinned. “Shut the fuck up and drive.”

Butcher snorted but put the car in gear.

City lights streaked past in a blur. The toy inside you pulsed with phantom memory, your thighs pressed tight together. You shifted slightly, but Ben’s hand gripped your knee and dragged it back open.

“Don’t even think about hiding,” he said. “You wanted to play, you fuckin’ play.”

His hand slid higher, inching toward the hem of your dress. His fingers teased just under the edge, not touching the toy, but close enough to make your breath catch.

“She’s soaked already,” he said, loud enough for the front seat. “Fuckin’ faucet.”

Butcher didn’t even blink. “You keep talkin' like that and I’m gonna end up drivin' into traffic.”

Ben grinned. “That a compliment?”

Butcher’s eyes flicked to the mirror, landing on you.

“Never seen you like this, mate,” he said. “You’ve lost the fuckin’ plot over her.”

Ben didn’t deny it. Didn’t blink. Just grinned wider, like being unhinged over you was a badge of honour.

“Wouldn’t you?” He said. “Look at her. Fuckin’ perfect. Should’ve heard her the other mornin'—cryin’ on my tongue like she wanted to marry it.”

You slapped his chest, mortified. But Ben caught your wrist and kissed the inside of it, slow and filthy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t,” he murmured.

Butcher groaned. “You two need a goddamn leash.”

The car rolled to a stop. Outside, the venue loomed—faceless, nameless, but humming with power. There was no line. No music. Just velvet shadows and the hush of wealth. Ben stepped out first, adjusting his jacket, looking every inch the monster in silk and tailored wool.

He offered you his hand. You took it. He pulled you in tight.

“Try not to make too many people fall in love with you tonight,” he said, lips brushing your temple. “I fuckin’ hate sharing.”

And then you walked through the doors, straight into the mouth of the beast.

The venue looked like nothing from the outside—just a black door, tucked between glass towers, guarded by two men in earpieces who didn’t ask for names. They didn’t need to. Ben nodded once. The door opened.

And you stepped into something else entirely.

All shadow and heat and reverence.

The floors were black marble, veined like smoke. Velvet curtains carved out the space into dark corners and dim alcoves, while the ceiling arched high above in glass and steel and soft gold light. The air was thick with perfume, cigars, and the kind of money that didn’t speak out loud.

Everywhere you looked—eyes.

Men in tailored suits with expensive watches and hungrier stares. Women like sculptures. Everything glittered, but none of it outshone the possessive heat of Ben’s hand on your lower back.

You felt exposed. Seen. Desired.

Displayed.

Ben leaned down as you stepped deeper into the space, his mouth brushing your ear. “You feel that?”

You swallowed.

He smirked. “They’re lookin’ at you, baby. Every one of ‘em.” His palm slid a little lower. “They wanna know who the fuck you are.”

You pressed closer into his side. Your heels clicked like a heartbeat against the marble. The dress clung in all the wrong—and perfect—places, and the toy inside you was a presence, a promise. Not on. Not yet. But waiting.

Ben steered you through the crowd like he owned it. And maybe he did.

You saw them before you reached them. John—smug, drink in hand, grin like a blade. His eyes lit up when he saw you. Not kind. Not warm. Just sharp. Earving stood beside him, dressed to kill and silent, a girl tucked against his arm like an accessory.

And then—

A woman. Short hair, sharp suit, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was laughing at something another man had just said—immaculate in grey, expression unreadable.

Ben led you straight to them.

“Stan Edgar. Victoria Neuman. This is my girl.”

Stan looked you over like you were data. Victoria’s smile sharpened.

“Pleasure,” she said, voice smooth. “Ben’s been...talking.”

You nodded, barely able to speak under the weight of their attention.

Stan only nodded once. “She’s very... visually efficient.”

Ben barked a laugh. “She’s more than that.”

You were still reeling from their gazes when John stepped forward, cocking his head as he looked you over with that same dripping smirk.

“Benjamin! You finally brought her out again, huh?” He whistled low. “Fuck me, you’ve been hiding a masterpiece.”

You stiffened. Ben didn’t. He stepped in front of you slightly, shielding you with his frame. “Careful, John,” he said, smile tight. “She’s not a museum piece.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, eyes still on you. “I’d pay to take a closer look.”

Ben’s laugh was dark. Low. Dangerous. His arm locked tighter around your waist.

“You wanna keep your teeth in your mouth, you keep that fuckin’ look off your face.”

John just raised his hands in mock surrender, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade.

You pressed closer to Ben, dizzy from the lights and perfume and how exposed your thighs felt under all that satin. He bent low again, his mouth hot against your ear.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good,” he murmured. “Takin’ it all like my perfect little doll.”

His hand found your thigh.

The toy was still silent.

But not for long.

The booth was tucked into the back corner, elevated just enough to offer a panoramic view of the velvet-drenched chaos below. Private, but not hidden. On display. Designed to be watched. Just like last time.

Ben slid in first, legs wide, jacket draped lazily behind him like he owned the entire venue—he probably fucking did. He crooked a finger at you without speaking.

You stepped into the curve of the booth, your body already trembling with the residual tension from the car, the entrance, the stares. He caught you by the waist and pulled you down into his lap.

"Legs open," he muttered into your neck, the command so quiet it might have been a breath. "Whole fuckin’ night. You hear me?"

You nodded.

His hands skimmed your thighs as you settled, one arm anchoring around your waist like a chain.

And then—

The toy buzzed to life inside you. It was soft at first. Barely a tremor. But it landed like a punch. Your thighs tensed instinctively.

Ben didn’t look at you. Just reached for his drink and sipped. Moved you gently from his lap to slip further into the booth. The buzzing didn’t stop. You tried to hide it—to school your face into something neutral. But your hands clenched against your lap, and your breath stuttered. Your pulse was in your throat.

Ben leaned in like he was going to kiss your cheek. He didn’t.

"What’s the matter, sweetheart? Can’t sit still?"

You swallowed.

His mouth brushed your ear.

"Keep your face pretty. That’s all you gotta do."

You exhaled slowly, legs trembling, clinging to the champagne flute that had just appeared in front of you.

You didn’t even see her sit down. Victoria Neuman smiled like a shark in silk. "Ben hasn't stopped talking about you for weeks," she said casually, crossing one leg over the other. "Good to see he’s not losing steam."

Your lips parted—words stalling. The toy pulsed harder. A moan threatened to escape. You bit it back. Nodded.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She asked, eyes twinkling with a dangerous kind of amusement.

You nodded again. Barely.

She tilted her head. "He’s cruel when he likes someone. You’ll get used to it."

Ben hadn’t moved. He was still across the booth. Watching. Smirking. And then he turned the toy up. High. Constant. Devastating. Your hand trembled as you set the glass down. You could barely breathe.

"He likes them obedient," Victoria murmured, swirling her drink. "But not too quiet. You’ll do just fine."

And then he was behind you. You hadn’t even seen him move. His hands were on your hips, pulling you back into his lap, then your waist, then your throat. His mouth on your neck. Kissing, sucking, biting.

You gasped. He didn’t stop.

"God, you’re fuckin’ shaking," he rasped, voice raw against your skin. "You gonna come in front of her?"

Victoria just sipped her drink, unbothered. "You always were theatrical, Ben."

He grinned into your neck.

"You should see what she gets like, Neuman," he said. "Tries to ride my face so hard she almost passes out."

You whimpered. He bit your ear.

"Don’t come yet," he said, sharp now. Low and dangerous. "Not unless I say. You don’t want me to embarrass you, do you?"

You shook your head, lips trembling.

"Smile," he whispered. "You’re the prettiest thing in the room—act like it."

Victoria laughed. "She’s a mess. You always pick the messy ones."

Ben’s tongue dragged up your neck. His hand slid between your thighs, pressed over the buzzing heat.

"Look at her, Vic," he growled. "Isn’t she a fuckin’ masterpiece?"

You couldn’t answer. You were burning. Shaking. So close it hurt. And he hadn’t even gotten started.

They came in slowly, like the tide—first Stan, silent and surgical in his presence. Then John, already smirking. Earving behind them, ghost-quiet, eyes unreadable. Victoria didn’t move. She just sipped her drink, crossed her legs the other way, and looked amused.

Ben welcomed them with a lazy tilt of his chin, but he didn’t let you go. His hand stayed on your thigh. His breath stayed in your ear.

You were still trembling when you turned. One slow, shaking motion. You straddled him. Face to face, chest to chest, your thighs wide around his lap. Satin clung to your skin, the toy still pulsing inside you like a secret heartbeat. Your hands pressed into his shoulders like you needed the anchor—like you’d float away if he let you.

He didn’t let you.

His hands gripped your waist, strong and certain. And when you dropped your face into his neck, he hummed, low and pleased.

"There she is," he murmured, loud enough for them to hear. "My pretty little mess."

You could hear the clink of ice in glasses. The murmurs of expensive conversation. Stan speaking in numbers. John muttering filth.

But Ben’s hands were creeping lower. The toy buzzed higher.

You whimpered into his throat. He laughed.

"You feel that? Huh? Right here, surrounded by billionaires and snakes, and you’re shaking like you’re gonna fuckin’ break."

You nodded into his skin.

Victoria’s voice came soft beside you. "You’re doing fine, sweetheart."

You turned slightly, cheek brushing Ben’s jaw as you looked at her. She smiled. Not cruelly. But not kindly, either.

"He’s like this," she said, dry. "He just likes the ones who squirm."

Ben’s hand slid up your spine.

"You gonna be polite, baby? Or you gonna come all over my lap while Stan’s tryin’ to talk taxes?"

You whimpered.

Victoria’s hand brushed your back, light as silk. "Don’t worry. No one’s looking."

That was a lie.

Ben kissed your cheek like a lover. Then bit your jaw like a predator. "Beg," he whispered. "You wanna fuckin' come? Say it. Say it out loud."

You opened your mouth... and he turned away. "Edgar," he said, casually. "What’s the projection on Neuman’s little tax stunt?"

Your mouth stayed open. No sound came out. The toy didn’t stop.

Stan’s voice was cold. "Stable for now. But volatile next quarter."

You nodded at something Victoria said. You weren’t even sure what. She was still smirking. Still sipping.

"You're shaking," she whispered, voice meant only for you. "He won’t stop. Not yet."

Ben turned back to you. His eyes were molten.

"You’re close, huh? Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded. Whimpered. Your legs were trembling. He kissed you—hot and slow and brutal. Then pulled back.

"Too bad."

He clicked the remote. And the toy went silent.

You collapsed into his chest, blinking through heat and tears and shame. He held you like a prize. Like a trophy.

Like something earned, but you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Then, it started again. A hum—low and cruel—deep inside you.

You gasped before you could catch it. Not loud, but sharp enough to draw Ben’s eyes to you from the corner, his arm tightening around your waist like he felt it too.

"Jesus, Ben," you whispered, the words barely shaped.

He hummed against your ear, unbothered, his voice molasses-slick. "Thought you were relaxin’, sweetheart."

But he didn’t stop. Didn’t ease up. The toy kept humming—steady, deliberate, tuned to that unbearable pitch between ache and ecstasy. Your thighs trembled where they bracketed his. Your hands fisted the fabric at his shoulders.

And yet—

You looked at him. Really looked.

Ben was talking to Stan again, some quiet, low-stakes business chatter about offshore accounts or quarterly damage control. His voice was smooth, lilting, laced with sarcasm. He leaned back like he didn’t have you straddling him, wrecked and pulsing, on the brink of total collapse.

His beard caught the low light like it had a sheen. Soft at the edges, trimmed at the jaw. His throat moved when he laughed at something John muttered, a sharp bark that exposed those too-sharp canines. The corner of his mouth lifted as he sipped his drink with one hand, the other still heavy on your back.

And his eyes—

God. His fucking eyes.

Green like bottle glass and back-alley secrets, sharp as knives and stupidly beautiful. Bright even in shadow. They sparkled when he laughed, narrowed when he smirked. And he was smirking now.

Not at you. Not yet.

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder, the silk of his shirt damp with heat and breath and sweat. Your heart ached with how much you wanted him. Not just his cock, not just his control.

Him.

You swallowed the whimper building in your throat.

And then, soft as sin:

"Ben."

He turned. Just his head. Just enough to look down at you, eyes slipping slow over your face. One brow arched.

"You okay, baby?"

You nodded. Breathless.

"Take me home."

His face changed.

It wasn’t visible, not fully—not to anyone else. But you felt it. The way his hand stilled. The way his spine straightened. The breath he drew in, low and slow.

"Home?"

You nodded again.

"Please."

The word was a whisper against his collar.

His smirk didn’t return all at once. It built like thunder—low, slow, inevitable. His palm slid up your back, fingers curling at your nape. He kissed your temple. Then stood. Lifted you with him. Like you weighed nothing. Like you were made to be carried.

You buried your face in his neck, felt the beat of his pulse against your lips as he turned from the table.

"Excuse us," he said smoothly, like he wasn’t holding a trembling girl half-fucked in his arms. "She needs a breather."

Victoria’s smile curled like smoke. John’s eyes followed you, grinning like he knew too much. Stan barely looked up.

And then Ben was walking—shoulders square, strides long, your body cradled to his like some obscene treasure.

Through the hush of velvet and vice. Out the black door, into the night, back to where he’d promised to take you.

Home.

The car door shut with a soft click. And then you were gone. Ben didn’t wait. Didn’t give you time to breathe or prepare or brace—he just reached between your thighs, clicked the remote in his pocket, and the toy inside you purred back to life like it never left.

You jerked in your seat, legs trembling, a soft gasp curling from your lips before you could catch it. The city lights blurred past the window, glittering and disjointed, but you couldn’t see them. Couldn’t feel anything but the heat already pooling low in your belly, the friction of satin and skin and heat, and Ben’s hand on your thigh.

His voice came slow and slick in your ear.

"There she is. My girl. My good fuckin’ girl."

You whimpered, already clinging to his shoulder, your body melting into his side.

"You hear that little sound you make when I touch you?" He murmured. "Fuckin’ music. Could write a goddamn symphony off the way you moan for me."

He pushed the hem of your dress higher, fingers teasing at the edge of your underwear, toy humming so deep you swore your bones vibrated.

"Be loud, baby. Butcher doesn’t give a fuck. Hell, he’s seen worse."

As if to prove it, the partition between you and the driver stayed half-lowered. Butcher’s face was blank in the mirror, eyes flicking away like he’d seen this show before.

Your head tipped back as the pressure crested—your toes curled, your thighs trembled. You bit your lip but it didn’t help.

You came with a gasp, a moan slipping loose, high and broken. Your whole body shuddered.

Ben groaned like he felt it too.

"That’s it. Fuckin’ hell, that’s it," he rasped. "Goddamn you’re perfect." His hand didn’t leave you. Didn’t still. "You got another one in you, sweetheart? Huh? I know you do."

The toy kept going, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. You whimpered again, hips twitching involuntarily.

"You’re mine. You’ll give me as many as I want. You fuckin’ love it."

You came again before you realised you were close. A full-body quake, a cry buried in the thick fabric of his shirt, your nails digging into his arm.

The car slowed. Pulled into the private garage beneath his building.

Ben was out of the seat before the engine cut, hauling you into his arms. You barely remembered the door opening. You just remember the lift of your body, the strength in his arms, the way he growled in your ear:

"Can’t fuckin’ wait."

The elevator doors shut behind you, and before it even moved—he had you against the wall.

Dress up. Legs spread. One hand braced beside your head while the other slid between your thighs and pulled the toy free with a slick sound that made your stomach drop.

He stared at it for half a second, then shoved it in his mouth, sucked it clean.

"Jesus fuck," he groaned around it. "You taste like sin."

His fingers were already working you open again, sliding through your folds like he’d die if he didn’t feel you. Your body was limp and shaking, mouth parted, helpless.

You whispered his name.

"Say it again," he growled, tongue pressing the toy against the inside of his cheek before he tossed it to the floor.

"Ben."

The elevator pinged. The doors opened.

He didn’t stop touching you. Carried you into the penthouse with your legs wrapped around him, fingers still buried inside you, mouth on your neck.

The front door slammed shut behind you with a deafening crack. And then you were pressed to it. Your spine against solid wood. His mouth on yours—biting, hungry, rough.

"My fuckin’ girl," he breathed, tongue dragging over your lower lip. "My perfect little toy."

He rolled his hips into yours, cock thick and straining through his slacks.

"You know how long I waited for this? Huh?"

You could barely nod, already panting. He kissed you again. Lower this time. Jaw. Throat. Collarbone.

"Didn’t think I’d ever find someone like you. Someone who gets it. Who gets me."

Another kiss. Another thrust.

"You’re it, baby. You’re fuckin’ it."

And he was going to ruin you. Right here. Right now.

You didn’t feel your feet hit the ground.

Ben carried you across the penthouse like you were weightless, a trembling thing made of silk and need. The city glittered ahead, sprawling and brilliant, a thousand stories blinking against the sky.

He didn’t speak—not at first.

Just pressed you to the glass. It was cool against your back, shocking in contrast to the heat rolling off your skin. You gasped, arching into him, palms flat on the surface as the world stretched out before you like a stage.

Ben’s hands slid up your thighs, dragged along the hem of your dress.

"You feel that, sweetheart?" He rasped, breath hot against your jaw. "World’s right fuckin’ there. Every light, every eye."

His lips crushed yours before you could answer.

The kiss was filthy. Wet and starved. His tongue licked into your mouth like he was claiming it, biting your lip, licking over the sting. You moaned, open and soft for him, arms around his neck as you sagged into his heat.

"Fuck, you kiss like you’re already fucked dumb," he growled, barely pulling back, lips brushing yours. "Droolin’ for it. You hear yourself?"

You whimpered. Nodded.

His hands gripped your ass, lifted you slightly, enough to press you higher to the glass.

"Should see yourself," he muttered. "Lit up like a fuckin’ exhibit. My own personal display case slut."

Your body jolted with the words, thighs squeezing around his hips.

He laughed—low and wrecked—and then he turned you. Spun you slowly, reverently, until your front pressed flush to the glass. Your hands braced high. Your cheek flattened to the cool surface. The view blurred with heat and haze.

Ben crowded in behind you, one hand on your hip, the other sliding up your spine, fingertips dancing over the zipper at the back of your dress.

"You know how long I’ve wanted this?" He murmured. "Since the first fuckin’ night. You stood right here. Right fuckin’ here. And I thought—I’m gonna fuck her against this window. Gonna press her tits to it and split her open so the city knows she’s mine."

He kissed your shoulder. Bit it.

"And you came back. You fuckin’ came back."

You moaned, shaking. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers stroking through slick heat, spreading you open.

"Christ, baby. You’re soaked. You’re drippin’ down your fuckin’ thighs."

The sound he made when he sank to his knees was almost reverent. You barely had time to register the heat of his mouth before he was licking you open, biting softly into the curve of your ass, tongue working in tight circles over your clit while you sobbed against the glass.

And then—he stood. Dropped his slacks. No warning. Grabbed your hips. Pressed in. One long, brutal thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

You screamed. Hands slipped on the glass. Your body jolted forward, breath fogging the skyline.

"There it is," he groaned behind you. "Tight little cunt, made to be fucked right here. Right where everyone can fuckin’ see."

His thrusts were vicious. Deep. Each one lifting you onto your toes. Your cheek rubbed raw on the glass but you didn’t care.

"Look at you. Fuckin’ perfect. Ruined. Mine."

He wrapped a fist in your hair, tugged your head back.

"Don’t close your eyes. I want you to watch yourself come apart."

You could see your reflection in the faint smear of light on the glass. Blurred. Wild-eyed. Lips parted. You didn’t recognise yourself.

Ben slammed into you again. You cried out.

"Whole city’s out there, sweetheart. But I’m the only one who gets to fuckin’ touch."

You were gone. Drenched. Gutted. Wrecked on the glass like art. And he was still going. Your cheek was still pressed to the glass when he pulled out of you with a low, guttural sound—like it hurt him to stop.

"Fuck this," he growled. "Need you on the floor."

He grabbed your hips, turned you, and you didn’t even resist—your knees buckled, dress hiked, thighs slick. He dragged you down with him, your back hitting the floor with a thud that rattled your lungs. Cold marble kissed your spine. The city lights spun above like stars on fire.

Ben loomed over you, shirt open now, chest heaving. His hair was stuck to his temples, his pupils blown wide. He didn’t look human—he looked like hunger in its final form.

He pinned your wrists above your head, straddling your thighs, eyes dragging over your body like he was committing it to memory before the end of the world.

Then he spit in his hand. Stroked himself.

Slow. Mean. "You’re so fuckin’ good for me it makes me sick."

You whimpered, legs trembling. He let your wrists go just to drag his hands down your body, over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, gripping your thighs until you gasped.

"I’ve had every kind of pussy," he said, voice low and ragged. "And none of it ever felt like you."

He slapped your cunt. Not hard—but enough to make you jolt. Enough to make your eyes fly open and your breath catch.

"Like God made you just to take my cock, didn’t He? Huh?"

You nodded, lips parted, helpless. A mess beneath him.

He leaned in, nose brushing yours, voice dark and reverent.

"Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to."

You choked on your breath.

"Say it. Let the city fuckin’ hear it."

"You," you breathed. "You, Ben."

He kissed you like he needed it to breathe—sloppy and deep and consuming. Then he pressed inside you again with a groan that sounded like it came from his chest.

And started to move. Hard. Deliberate. His pace was brutal, hips snapping, sweat dripping from his chest onto your skin. Every thrust punched a sound from you—soft, broken, pleading.

"That’s it," he hissed. "Fuckin’ take it." His hands fisted in your hair, dragged your mouth to his. "You’re not goin’ anywhere, you get that?"

You nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"I’d kill for you," he breathed against your jaw. "Burn this whole fuckin’ city down if someone touched what’s mine."

His thrusts stuttered. His jaw clenched.

"You’re it. You’re fuckin’ it for me."

You came with a sob—your body locking around him, clenching, shaking, teeth sunk into his shoulder. He cursed, loud and raw, bracing himself on one forearm as his other hand gripped your thigh.

"Fuck, I’m gonna—shit—I’m fuckin’—" He slammed in deep, buried to the hilt. "Take it. Take all of it, baby."

You cried out, fingers clawing at his back.

"Say you’re mine while I fill you up."

"I’m yours, Ben," you gasped. "Yours."

His hips jerked as he came—loud, guttural, filthy. You felt it spill inside you, hot and endless, his body collapsing over yours as he breathed you in like oxygen. He didn’t move right away. Just lay there, pressed to you, breath ragged, mouth at your ear.

"Mine," he whispered again.

Like a prayer. Like a promise. Like prophecy.

His chest was still pressed to yours. The air between you both felt heavy with salt and sweat and something so much deeper.

Ben didn’t speak. Not at first. He just lifted his head, gaze dragging slow over your face—like he was checking to see if you were real. Like if he blinked too fast, you’d vanish.

And then he kissed you. Soft. Just once. Not hungry. Not greedy. Just a press of his lips to yours that felt like a whisper, like a secret folded into skin. His breath stuttered as he pulled back an inch, eyes still locked to yours.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, voice wrecked and reverent. "Look at you."

His hand traced your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. His brow furrowed like it hurt to see you this way—wrecked and glowing, trembling and perfect.

"I don’t know how the fuck I found you," he whispered. "But I did. And I’m never lettin’ you go."

He leaned in again. Kissed your cheek. Your brow. The tip of your nose.

"Not ever. You hear me?"

You nodded, dazed. Stunned. Still too full of him to know where he ended and you began. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugged gently until he was hovering above you again, nose brushing yours.

"Same goes for you, Ben," you said softly. "I don’t want anywhere else. I don’t want anyone else."

His breath caught. And then he kissed you again. Deeper. Slower. Tongue licking into your mouth like he needed to taste every word you just gave him. His hands held your face like you were breakable. Precious. His. The kiss didn’t ask. It didn’t take. It promised.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were pink and swollen, and his eyes were dark with something softer than lust.

Something terrifying.

"Mine," he murmured against your mouth.

A whisper. A vow.

"Fuckin’ mine."

And you were.

You always would be.

Power is not always taken. Sometimes, it is worshipped. Wrapped in silk and spit, crushed between bodies, bared beneath glass. Given freely, and never returned.

It begins with a glance. A single indulgence. A breathless yes.

And ends here—on a pedestal of bruises and diamonds, teeth and devotion. A prize. A possession. A ruin dressed in reverence.

Because men like him do not love. They claim.

And some altars are built just to be bled on.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl <3

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supernova41st · 11 months ago

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Sweet n’ Sour 👛 (pt.2)

Tf2 x “nice”Reader

A/n: Here’s pt.1 if you don’t know what this fic is abt, ik I said I was going to do my own fic after the last one I made but I couldn’t think of anything sooo I’m just doing this. I might do a ‘tf2 x Snooki!Reader’ cuz I just started watching jersey shore and I love it (also you could tell I put my whole heart and ass into snipers section)

warnings: Slut shaming, Reader and Sniper banging, enemies to lovers, hatefuck (sorry this one’s wild)

Pyro

Pyro quickly took a liking to you because of your girly nature, he loved your style

He’s only ever been on your good side, painting nails reading magazines gossiping etc.

He’s such a girls man. No, not a ladies man, a girls man

“Holy fuck! Snooki got arrested”

“Mm mffmm mmm?”

*from jersey shore??

“Yes from jersey shore!!”

Of course you two are duos on the battlefield, skipping happily around the blu teams base as it burns down

Def owns one of those heart friendship necklaces

About him being a girls man, he always makes sure you look good on the battlefield

Loves picking out outfits with you and always carries around something he knows you’ll forget

“Shit! I forgot to put on lipgloss..”

“Mmm mmphm mm?”

*here, cherry bomb right?

“gasp Omg I love you so much 💕”

You and Pyro would have the loving best friend relationship, kissing each others cheek and shit

Doing makeup on mask>>>>

Imagine the fake lashes along w the blush 😭 he loves it

lol put big anime girl eyes on him pls

“You’re fucking chewing right now P.”

“mmm mm!!!”

*thank you!!

Sniper

He hated you when he first saw you omg. Sniper is introverted cuz he got bullied and school, so now he automatically thinks any girl with even a slightly feminine style is bitchy

To be fair you were.. to him

Srry but he got annoyed with you so fast, it started a hefty rivalry between you and snipes

“Where’s princess prissy?”

“Uhm I know you’re not talking about me, at least I actually go down there to fight unlike you in the sidelines.”

It’s always something with you guys istg

He has to admit (but won’t) , he loves watching you destroy the enemy team the way you do from afar. Blood and guts getting in your hair and pretty face. Whenever you catch him staring at you you always give him the finger, makes him chuckle despite how much he ‘hates’ you

Sometimes he has to leave more than piss in his jars

He still kept the enemy streak but it was just to hide his feelings

The mercs get so sick of your guys’s attitude, they practically begged Miss Pauling to send you and sniper off to a mission so they can get a break. She obliged

“Yeah I’m not working with him, sorry! I’d rather go back to juvie than go sleep in his musty van.”

“Bonzy, wouldn’t want to smell your bloody strong perfume all over me van ya whore.”

“I’d rather smell like strong perfume than someone who hangs around piss jars and has coffee breath!!”

Miss Pauling immediately understood why the mercs wanted you guys to go away. And so she forced you to stay in his ‘musty van’ for a week so that you both can go assassinate god knows who. Safe to say it wasn’t an easy trip.

“Ay, I’m gonna go hunt for dinner, you comin’?

“Why the fuck would I wanna go with you?? Bye.”

damn, you didn’t have to end him like that 😭

You felt something when this bitch came back with a 14ft alligator, dragging it by the tail back to the van. You bit your lip staring at him as he wiped the sweat from his forehead

You asked him to hook up, you tried to be subtle but it just turned out uneasy to say the least

“Hey I liked the way you um.. dragged that crocodile back there”

“Chuckle it was a alligator, Sheila”

“Of course you know the difference..”

You blushed, along with him, laughing awkwardly, biting your pink painted thumbnail while he scratched the back of his neck

Cut to you guys waking up naked in his bed all sweaty

Hate fucking or not, now instead of the mercs being annoyed of you hating each other too much, they hate how much you love each other

“Cmon guys not in the goddamn break room..”

“Sorry, I just love his black coffee breath”

“And I love the smell of the perfume I got ya”

“God I fucking hate it when you use Australian slang..”

You still did your thing in the break room

Spy

He has so much hate in his heart for you, and it shows

The difference between him and sniper is that he doesn’t like ANYTHING about you, especially the way you fight

Sure it surprised him when you showed off how you fought, but he didn’t take a liking to it

While trying to sneak up on an enemy sniper, you immediately bashed their head in with your pink hammer. He glared at you so hard

“😐”

“What shitface?? Say something. I got impatient you were taking too long.”

This guy wants nothing to do with you, if you get assigned to a mission together he’ll have his way to sneak out of it.

In the expiration date short you wrote

Fuck you <3

On the paper he handed to everyone along with a drawing of a middle finger for the bucket thing he did

How did he know it was you? You made the hand look exactly like yours, acrylic nails and all.

You and scout started giggling like school girls

“..would anyone else like to insult me??”

soldier slowly raising his hand

Posting on your story in the middle of a battle is such a good way to mess with him, just doing the peace sign while he stays frustrated in the background

‘This old fuck really expects me to kill this big bitch alone 😹😹 Lol he fucking wishes, anyways I’m prob gonna get in trouble bcuz of this but IDRC 💜 #ellieandmasonhouse’

He wants to kill you so bad, sadly you’re one of the most useful mercs on the team. But if you weren’t he’d be so down to kill you

#Spotify #x reader #tf2 x reader #pyro x reader #sniper x reader #sniper smut #spy x reader #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro

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sniffle-bird · 8 months ago

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actually no i’m not done talking about eurylochus how does nobody understand what he’s getting at in ‘mutiny’.

i’ve seen people call him a hypocrite for being upset at odysseus for sacrificing the crew when he tried to leave the men at circe’s island but that is just. so wrong. giving up on rescuing men from the hands of a very dangerous sorceress and goddess in order to save the rest of the crew is not comparable to odysseus willingly leading six men to their deaths without their knowledge.

that’s not even what he’s upset about. he’s not mad they sacrificed the men (well. he is. but that’s not his main argument) he’s mad because ody picked that route so easily. which is why he brings up all the other things they’ve faced, e.g., the cyclops, (“you were quick to hatch a plan”) and circe, (“it was you who left behind no man”). which is why he literally begs ody to lie to him and tell him he had no idea how going through scylla’s lair would go.

“tell me you did not know that would happen, tell me you didn’t know how that would end.”

“use your wits to tell me that i’m crazy and mad, that this is all a trick the gods have sent.”

“tell me you did not miss home so painfully bad that you gave up the lives of six of our friends.”

and odysseus, who is usually very chatty in all other songs, is dead quiet, which eurylochus comments on in ‘scylla’. eury makes no attempt to usurp him until ody tells him he can’t say that he was clueless or mislead and that he knew exactly what he was doing, which is when he says, “then you have forced my hand.”

eurylochus’s mutiny is not a power hungry act, it’s something he was quite literally forced into in order to keep the crew safe. ody just showed that he was willing to sacrifice members of the crew for the sake of getting home, and eurylochus has to protect them.

to him, he has tried and failed to reel odysseus in time and time again, first with the lotus eaters, trying to discourage them from going/deciding to just raid the place. if they had, they likely wouldn’t have spoken to the lotus eaters and they wouldn’t have gone to the cyclops cave. polites would be alive, athena would still be with them. there are many other examples of this but i’m trying (and failing) to keep this post on the shorter side. ody is a wild card they can’t afford to keep playing when they get into a crisis. the crew specifically sings, “now the time has come to shut you down.” the entirety of mutiny is like a fat intervention for ody’s spiralling into the “monster” he thinks he has to be to get home.

then of course there’s the whole thing with him killing the cows, blah blah, i covered it in my other long ass eurylochus defence post, but i’ve seen so many people give eury shit for calling odysseus “captain” again after they get into trouble and it’s just so. shallow. their view of eurylochus is so shallow.

i’ve spoken about this before but there’s a very interesting manner in which eurylochus refers to odysseus. he calls him “captain,” but also “ody,” and his brother/his friend. it’s not like polites, where he switches from calling odysseus the captain and also his friend when they’re alone. eurylochus switches almost sporadically. times where it would be appropriate to call odysseus his captain, he calls him ody/brother/friend. times where it would be appropriate for a less formal title like his nickname/something more affectionate like his brother or his friend, he calls him captain. it’s like he doesn’t know where he and odysseus stand. his view of him is constantly shifting and changing.

so obviously, when odysseus sounds so distressed after he kills the cow and suddenly leaps back into his leadership role eurylochus would also subconsciously slip back into his role as his second? his ‘captain’ doesn’t really sound that scared to me, either, more… confused? concerned? slowly realising he’s fucked, yes, but more in a ‘regretting jumping off a building the second you step off’ way. not in a ‘omg how could this happen pls save us captain’ way.

he doesn’t know wtf is going on. he was expecting to kill the cow, get a good meal for his remaining crew, and then get smited. instead he has his captain screaming at him, thunder clouds rolling in immediately, all this shit happening, of course he would call for his friend. it’s not even a call for him!! it’s a response!!! to ody screaming that they’re doomed! “you’ve doomed us all!!” “captain?” like omfg

eurylochus is NOT looking for odysseus to save him or pull him out of his mess. he was just confused and obviously kind of spooked. and the title is a whole other issue that i could honestly write an essay about (or a fic. it’ll probably be the fic.)

#eurylochus #nah you thought i was done i was just getting started #i love this guy #epic the musical #mutiny #i didn’t proof read this so sorry if it makes no sense i just needed to get it out of my system

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snoopyviktor · 6 months ago

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ooo thank u @joyful-soul-collector for the tag <3

Get to know your mutuals!

What's the origin of your blog title? i love snoopy and viktor and i think they'd be best buddies in another universe

OTP(s) + Shipname: currently i loveeee jayvik!!! but im also a massive fan of zelink (zelda + link). and loumand hehe

Favorite color: baby blue!

i'll put the rest of the questions under this so this post is not too long!

Favorite game: any zelda game!! it's my favourite game series of all time. i also love bg3 / DnD, twd telltale series, outer wilds, minecraft, acnh, and i'm currently playing RDR2 for first time and enjoying it!

Song stuck in your head: which witch by florence & the machine

Weirdest habit/trait? i have hypermobile/double jointed hands, as well as shoulders and hips. so i'm always popping out my shoulders, hips, and touching my thumbs to my wrist lol.

Hobbies: writing, figure skating, swimming, i also do casual ballet classes and i'm learning violin :)

If you work, what's your profession? studying to become a phlebotomist for now but in the future i'm wanting to go into medical imaging!

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? my dream job is a cardiac sonographer. hopefully in about a decade i will be one

Something you're good at: figure skating, i like to think writing (but that's maybe debatable lol), and tetris. yea. the game

Something you're bad at: quite a lot of things, and thats ok

Something you love: role playing/story based games!!!.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: my special interests - zelda, post-apocalypse media with a focus on zombie genre and skating (especially yuzuru!)

Something you hate: leather. it's a sensory thing

Something you collect: azura blind boxes, fruit stickers and cute tags from clothes

Something you forget: where i last put an item

What's your love language? physical touch and gift giving

Favorite movie/show: currently arcane! but i also love the walking dead (up until about season 6), iwtv, james cameron's avatar, Coraline, wallace and gromit, and spirited away.

Favorite food: braised beef noodle soup

Favorite animal: bears and whale sharks

What were you like as a child? incredibly autistic lmfao . i used to stack things together and organise canned food into colours

Favorite subject at school? history, it was my best subject and i had an amazing teacher who encouraged us to think critically. i'm still in touch with her even 7yrs after graduating

Least favorite subject: general sciences. i love biology, but i found general science to be boring because i'm not that good at physics or chemistry.

What's your best character trait? well, my self identity is all over the place on most days, so i'm not really sure lol. maybe it's that i'm kind? haha

What's your worst character trait? i can get quickly overwhelmed / overstimulated and then i'm not the greatest person to be around. it's a lot better now that i'm older, though

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? i would like to feel safe :')

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? ooooo... is this meant to be about historical figures? because my answer would be my great grandmother when she was younger. it's been six years since she passed away and i miss her so deeply. the kindest woman i've ever known! <3

Tag as as many mutuals as you want!! omg ok. here's me trying to remember who all my mutuals are . @arkaniske @cheriekos @voxconcordia @awretchedthing @juuzousmom @softandslow @ttwwiiissttyy @oraccles @patheticjayce @maniiix @itsfheang @mementokore @cloudrcs @decayingstarchild @j1mmycreat3s @mothgardens @rams0up + anyone else who wants to do it :p

#rosie talks #tag game

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bloopitynoot · 11 months ago

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Reading SVSSS: Chapter 5

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Back at my desk for chapter 5 today, but no Charlie; he has abandoned me :(Tea this evening is Lady Grey with some milk and sugar.

Can you all believe that this is the last chapter of book 1????!?!? One out of 4 done! Anyways- let's get into this short chapter:

OMG. I would have been so pissed if I was transmigrated somewhere and had to start as an infant with my entire adult brain. RIP those circumstances for Airplane (p 264)

Honestly though, I am so here for the argument between Shang Qinghua/Airplane & Shen Qingqiu/Shen Yuan. Fight it out! The fan/not fan and the author who has no idea what's happening LOL

okay but I stand with Shang Qinghua/Airplane -> Shen Yuan really does know a lot of the lore for someone who supposedly hates this book (p265)

Oh god airplane doesn't even know that shen qingqiu here was poisoned (p267)

(okay Re: not knowing about the poisoning- correction he does, I dont know why he was confused about the mushroom side quest though. If anyone has clarity about this comment pls!)

okay but what's this demon- it's kind of scary clever (p269)

the SASS of this system going through an update and only giving automated answers LOL (p270)

it's making me laugh that the actual author and creator of this world cannot recall a single side character's name XD (p272)

+1 to the party! We have Gongyi Xiao (p 275).

what's touching him?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?! (p278) that's terrifying!!!!!

Shen Qingqiu still over here missing his boy. Re: Gongyi Xiao not being as good as Luo BInghe at picking up Shen Qingqiu's subtle non verbal cues while fighting and shen qingqiu being upset by it (p280)

I swear if that slither creature snatches those mushrooms before shen qingqiu has a chance to snag them I will be so pissed on his behalf (p282)

All three of them: WTF is that?!?!?! Airplane side eyeing shen yuan: did I write that tho??? (p.284)

RE: snatching the mushrooms- I don't think it can touch the mushrooms(?)

OMG. Shen qingqiu just made mortal enemies with this fish snake man (p 287)

At this point I don't know if he is trying to gaslight himself. But no matter what, Shen Qingqiu is really convincing people he's a little unwell about losing Luo Binghe. He mentally tells himself he's fine but man is his behaviour wild. (p 289)

OOp. Airplane calling Shen Yuan out about his feelings regarding Luo Binghe 👀 (p 290) Which Shen Qingqiu completely fails to respond to.

That's it for book 1!!!!!

I am NOT ready for the next turn of events. That foreshadowing at the end with this mushroom plot! These mushrooms better survive or poor Shen Qingqiu is fucked.

I cannot wait to start book 2 tomorrow!!!

#bloopitynoot reads svsss #svsss spoilers #mxtx svsss #svsss #This was such a little chapter #but it really set us up for book two #I feel like the plot will be plotting very soon #five more years before luo binghe returns

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theitalianerd · 24 days ago

Text

Sandman s2 pt 1 impressions

Just a few random thoughts I wrote down as I watched the series

SPOILERS BELOW!!

Episode 1

HOZIER!?!??!!?

The way I screamed when I heard the first notes. I jumped out of the sofa

Perfect song for desire

I’m in awe with desire omg Mason Park was born to play this role

Love the bridgerton/vampire vibes of the eternals outfits

Amazing visuals as always

I quite enjoyed Nada’s story!! The scenes with the snow were so pretty and the contrast with fire scenes later on *chef’s kiss*

Wow Dream can be petty. Nothing new but wow

The scene with Hob. how did they put that much sexual tension in such a brief scene

It was all in their eyes. It was all there

Cute that he went to visit his loved ones before leaving

This cast is amazing I’ll never cease to admire Gwendoline Christie as Lucifer she is P E R F E C T

Episode 2

Was expecting something sus from Lucifer but definitely not THAT

The WINGS?!?! Again Gwendoline was sublime

Dream and Death relationship is one of the best things in this series to me

Loved all the new characters!!

Queer Fairy played by Douglas Booth? I’m all for it

(I’m already in love with him)

Cain and Abel scenes are always so fun in such a weird way lol

The angels/demons, heaven/hell and the cute magic show made think about good omens 🥲 (I miss them)

I love the contrast between dream’s realm and dream himself, he’s just so serious and austere but he literally lives in a playhouse

Of course the demons have Nada. of course

Episode 3

I enjoyed the Shakespeare minisode, really liked the idea that Shakespeare made the play about the fairies for the fairies

I like Lady Nuala!! Will she be Dream’s new love interest? Idk. I like her but I don’t really see her that way

I LOVE a badass Dream. You can’t beat him in his realm bitch!!!

Except if you are his 10000 yo ex wife who he condemned to hell for eternity. Then you can tell him to fuck off as he deserves

LOKI!!! I love Loki in every version, in every universe, in every way. More Loki please

Lucifer is soooooo sus - I feel like as his final goal is a war with God, he knew that Dream would have given the key to Heaven. Idk what that means but Lucifer on the beach just sunbathing is way too strange

Episode 4

My little sad emo guy. He’s THE drama

I haven’t read the comics yet but I think I saw some pics of Delirium and I feel like the tv version is not enough….delirious?? Maybe I would have dared a bit more with the whole character design

(but I didn’t read the books so idk)

Again, the contrast between Dream and what’s around him, his realm and his family is so funny to me, I love it

He’s got a crazy, little sister!!! And goes on adventures with her!!!

Of course he’s only doing it so he can look for Nala. He’s still Dream

But he knows he’s doing it also for delirium, he just won’t admit it

Ooooooh Desire you little menace. I love them but damn that ending was rough

Episode 5

Loved the bit with Wanda and Death, and the wizard of Oz book and wanda’s whole story

Delirium’s realm is WILD, hope we’ll see more of it

The visuals of this series are stunning

Dream as the big brother who gives comfort to his little sister, yes give me more of that

Love that Destruction is the opposite of what you’d expect, he just wants to chill with his doggo and write bad poetry!!!

ORPHEUS IS HERE!!

I know the story but ouch that still hurts

Omg Death realm is so cool. She is past present and future. That’s mind blowing, I love that sm

As a Greek mythology lover and PJO fan girly. I LOVED this episode

I wish there was a tv series with a Greek myth each episode, give me more mythology Percy Jackson is not enough!!!

Episode 6

Johanna Constantine is BACKKK

love that dream’s hair in the past is always long

Of course the decapitated head was hidden in Revolutionary France. Of course

Johanna and Orpheus’ friendship, I cherish you

Dream is solving all the unfinished business of his past and facing his worst fears and wrongs. I love that for him

I really like Orpheus’ character it was well done

Destruction is so sweet. He even made dinner

MUM AND DAD??? Please delve on that

He just doesn’t want to feel the responsibility of humanity’s destruction. I love the idea that destruction just can’t stand to watch humanity destroy itself, he loves it too much

I know he’s saying goodbye to his siblings but all I can think about is the dog 😭😭

“I was scared to like in a world without you in it.” Oh my god

Oh my god this is heartbreaking.

The bloodied hands.

He can’t get the blood off his hands

the way he’s grasping for breath, the tears

Give Tom Sturridge all the awards MY GOD that was heart wrenching to watch

NO leave him alone!!! He’s suffered enough 😭

I can’t wait for the second part!!! I’m really enjoying this season, I feel like it’s got a calmer pace, more introspective and focused on Dream’s character and how much he’s changed and still has to learn

I’m so excited to see the dead boys as well, hope their scene is not too brief

Feel free to share your thoughts about this new season!!

#the sandman #the sandman season 2 #the sandman spoilers #the sandman s2

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elliebean714 · 7 months ago

Note

Haiiii :)))

Soo how about a Chris x Male reader (During game) Where one of them saw either their, or the other's death on one of the totems and how it would play out. Maybe said person trying to keep it a secret and it it backfires or smth. Have a nice day and drink lots of water. Love you /p <333

- 🍄 (Your favorite anon)

ACKK YOU GENIUS I LOVE YOU. 🍄 anon. I swear. Your mind and my mind are just ✨️magic✨️ I can't believe there was a time in my life before i had you, my beloved. To switch it up and experiment some more I decided to make this one from Chris' perspective cus that seems fun to me. This can be read as chris' part of the other fic or as a standalone, but I kinda reference some stuff that happened in the last one, so ill link it if you want to read that. This does divulge and go in its own direction though, i just sorta use the previous ask as a reference so i dont have to repeat things that happened in it. Im gonna tie up a plot line I didn't in your previous ask in this. This was very planned and I definitely did not forgor about that plot line until I had already posted it. I am smart and this was all on purpose (imsosorryjoshieiknowyourenotlikethis) (this is low-key climbing class angst too lmao. Gotta love my boys <3) I'm realising now that im not really good at following instructions, I get an idea in my head and go WILD. I kinda forget what people requested lol. I sometimes forget how much trauma Chris went through but GOD DAMN, MY BOYYYY </3 *Devastated cat* Angry Chris in ch7 is SO GOOD OMG, love him. Not trying to brag, but angry chris??? I ATE THAT.

Premonitions

Chris Hartley x M!Reader

Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Previous Request

During Game

Chapter 2

When I was left alone in the lodge with only Josh's lighter to guide me, I began snooping through the room I had found myself in, the garage, or maybe storage?Just as I was getting started a small wooden statue caught my attention. It was lying on the floor and was unlike anything I'd seen any of the Washingtons own. Curious, i picked it up for closer examination.

There was a carved and painted birds face staring back at me, freaky. I turned it over, not expecting much to be on the other side, I mean obviously all of the artistic talent went into the front. There's a small opening near the top of the statue, like an infinity symbol with straight lines outlined with brown paint. The inside appeared hollow. At least until I saw his face.

He was screaming, blood was flying, so much blood... and then there was a saw slashing through the adorable outfit he swore would keep him warm earlier today. Then I was whiped back to the lodge.

...

How... the hell am I to keep on looking for a stupid can of deodorant after watching my boyfriend get sawn in half? I need to see him, make sure he's okay. "Y/N? Can you come here please?"

"Uhh... why what's up?" He calls back, but I still hear those winter boots I made him wear crunching through the snow.

"I just want to talk to you." I answered. His frame entering my limited view.

"And why do you want to talk to me here instead of inside, adventurer?" He asks as he climbs on top of the stool I used to get inside. As his face appears at the window, I climb on the counter and meet his gaze, his gorgeous eyes.

"I just..." I trail off before admiting what I saw, would he even believe me? I probably just imagined it anyway, no reason to panic him right? I look down and sigh, "I just missed you." I 'lied'.

"And you couldn't wait to get us warm first?" He smiled. I have to protect that smile.

"No. I love you."

"Love you too. But I'm freezing my ass off so I'd love it if you could get the door open."

I dropped my head and sighed, "Yeah, I know. I'll go get it." He pulls my face towards him and kisses me gently.

"I love you"

"I love you too."

Later, we're in the basement together, looking for a 'spirit board' and I haven't let him out of my sight since I saw that, vision. I can't let anything happen to him, I can't tell him either. I'm freaking out enough for the two of us anyway. I don't want him to panic all weekend. Especially if it turns out to be nothing,

I get distracted looking at a box of old horror costumes from one of Josh's dads old movies, there's long, black robes, weird masks, bottles of fake blood... I sqeeze the bottle, letting a droplet of the red liquid run down my pointer finger, lost in thought. His cute face, that cute face I've loved for years... the fear, the pain in his eyes... his scream-

"Found it!" I turn to see his proudly presenting the spirit board.

"Great, lets-" The basement door opens and we hear Sam and Josh chatting and making their way to the boiler. I shake the violent image from my head, wipe the blood off my finger, and paint on a happy face, "Let's scare them."

Chapter 3

Candlelight illuminates the room while Y/N explains the rules of the board. I laugh at what I assume was a joke, fuck- I'm trying so hard to pay attention. It was nothing. Nothing is going to happen to him, focus.

Josh sits opposite me, clearly the most... excited(?) To start, Ashley and Y/N are beside me, I pick up his hand and rub my thumb over it. If I can feel him, I know he's there. We each put one finger on the pointer, ready to begin.

"Is anyone there?" Ashley asks, half sincere, half skeptical. The pointer answers, first slowly moving in random directions then spelling 'H E L P'.

"Okay, who's moving it?" Y/N laughs

"Woah-" I gasp uncomfortably.

"How can we help you?"

It moves fast "W A R N I N G."

"Shit-" Josh comments... Seeing him creeped out is so weird.

"Ask who it is, maybe?" I suggest, trying to be engaged.

But she ignores me "what are you warning us about?"

"S I S T E R"

"Who's sister?" Josh asks, he seems panicked now.

"You're warning us about your sister?" Y/N asks the board at the same time

I look at Josh, I don't want to say it, but... "Josh, it's gotta be-"

And he looks at me, almost calmed by the brief moment "well, which sister is it then?"

"Beth...? Is that you?" Ashley questions with a nervous voice, Y/N seems to stir at the name a little, he was always closer to her. The pointer moves to 'yes'.

"Oh god-" Ashley trembles

"This is so messed up" a nervous laugh escapes him

I see panic in my best friends eyes, "Josh? Are you-"

"I'm fine" He interrupts me gently

"We can stop if-" Y/N suggests

"No. I wanna hear what it says." He interrupts Y/N far more harshly, I assume its just anxiety. When Ashley expresses hesitation, Y/N reminds her that we could discover the truth of their deaths.

"What happened to you?"

"H A N N A H K I L L E D"

"Hannah killed her??" I hear Y/N whisper under his breath

"No, no, I think, I think she means someone killed Hannah" I correct him

"Beth, who killed Hannah?"

"L I B R-"

"Library?"

"P R O-"

"Proof? There's proof?"

"In the library?" As soon as the question leaves Y/N's lips, the table shakes and the pointer flies off between Josh and Ashley. She stands up, in shock and horror, clearly freaking out, while Josh just stares ahead for a few seconds.

"This isn't real..." He rises from his seat, still staring "I dont- I don't know if you think messing with me is going to somehow help me deal with my grief or whatever, but this is not cool." He states, shakily but firmly.

"Josh, no, we didn't- you wanted to use the spi-" Y/N tries to assure him, but Josh cuts him off, did Y/N do something to upset him? He's been kinda pissed at Y/N since we got here.

"Shut up, you guys are full of it!" He storms off down the stairs.

After he's gone, Ashley scolds us "that wasn't funny, guys. I can't believe you did that."

"What? We didn't do anything!" I try to defend us, "Just because we're goofy, doesn't mean we'd do that!" But my protests fall on deaf ears as she waves me off.

"Stop. Just stop." She heads down the stairs after Josh, I look over at Y/N. He looks so embarrassed and upset, he hates hurting people... my sweetheart.

"Hey," I hold his hands "it's okay, babe, we didn't do anything wrong."

He slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine, god I love that colour... "I didn't know- that was crazy- I didn't think it would work!"

"Me neither. I can't- jeez..." I take a shaky breath

"Should we go after him?" Y/N asks nervously "I don't want him to think we were trying to hurt him..."

"No," I shake my head "No, I dont think he really wants to see us right now" You, mostly. "We should check the library. See if what it was saying is true."

We head towards the library, hand in hand. Once we reach the bookshelf, several books fly off the shelf, a lot of them almost hit Y/N. A button is left in their place, I push it and the wall opens, revealing a secret room, it's practically empty aside from a random picture laying on the table.

A photo of the twins, Hannah has her tattoo, so it must've been taken a couple months before the disappearance. Or, murder... on the other side, a fucking note written in blood. A clear death threat to the girls- a sick one. I show Y/N and we agree to tell Josh. I lead him down the hallway, when we hear Josh and Ashley scream. Y/N rushes towards the door, and an arm pulls him through. I pound on the door in an attempt to break it down. After a short time, it finally opens, i see ashley and Y/N laying on the floor unconscious, a guy in a creepy mask punches me-

Chapter 4

Shit- my head is spinning. What the hell happ- shit, Y/N! I stand up quickly, making my dizziness worse, and look around frantically, Ashley is still on the floor, slowly coming back to consciousness, but Y/N and Josh are missing- fuck!

"Chris...?" Ashley whimpers, I grab the flashlight on the counter before helping her stand.

"Hey, are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" She seems okay, from what I can see, but creepy guy and helpless girl are never a good equation.

"N-no, I don't think so..." Ashley looks herself over "I was looking for Josh, I saw him coming through this way, I heard him scream, then some guy knocked me out and..." She trails off "thats all I remember, Where is he? Where's Y/N?"

I shake my head "No idea, we gotta find them, that guy, could've hurt them."

We find our way out of the room and see a splatter of blood on the wall "Oh jeez" Ashley gasps. We aprehensively continue, out of the lodge and towards the shed, calling out for Y/N and Josh. Everytime I blink, I'm reminded of that vision- it's not real, it's not real, it's not real...

"Chris! Chris, help, we're in here, please-" I hear him sob in response when I shout his name for the hundredth time.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through me "Y/N? Sweetheart, don't be scared, I'm coming." I hurry towards his voice, Ashley trails after, less enthused, poor girl is so exhausted.

The rest of the room is separated behind a plane of glass, a lever in the middle, and a door on the side. As soon as I approach the glass the lights in the room turn on, revealing Y/N and Josh tied up.

"What the hell??" Ashley gasps, Y/N and Josh start to properly panic when, presumably the guy who just attacked us starts talking over the intercom- shit- the saw- nonononnonono- FUCK-

It's that fucking saw- it tore through my baby- fuck- no- no- I cant- I cant- "and which one will die" i- I have to pick??? No, I cant- I can't have to do this- no, not these two- no-

I look for Ashley, but she's run off, I don't blame her, Josh starts pleading with me "Chris, buddy, please, you don't have to-"

And Y/N sobs too "Oh- Fuck- Chris, help me..."

Dontmakemechoosedontmakemechoosedontmakemechoosedontmakemechoose-

"I'm so-" guilt, anguish and anger fill me "so sorry, Josh-" my voice cracks. I turn the lever towards Josh's face- imsosorryimsosorryimsosorry-

The silence that follows could kill. Just a spinning sawblade and my favourite persons terrified sobs in the other room. I stare at the photo of him, my best friend... that guy- i- fucking killed him.

"Chris...? Help- please..." Y/N whimpers. Remember who it was for, Chris. He needs to survive. No matter what.

Chapter 6

I've still not dropped his hand. It's still replaying in my head, Y/N, Josh, the saw, that fucking guy. After, Ashley found Matt and Emily, and they all left to get help. I dont- I can barely think. But- Y/N and me are looking for Sam, I know that, and I'm holding his hand, nothing could make me let go.

"Hey, Chris?" His voice is shaky, but full of gratitude "I know- I know how horrible that was- what that guy did, what you had to do..." his fingers reach out and graze my cheek.

"Please- I don't want to-" don't cry- keep it together "I'm fine, dont-" Y/N steps closer, he lifts my cheek, dontcrydontcrypleasedontmakemecry...

"I'm sorry," we lock eyes "He was your best friend- you guys- shit- I'm so sorry" dontcrydontcrydont- "I love you. I love you so much"

"Please-" I fight the tears- dontcry "i-we- Sam doesn't have time. We need to hurry."

"Don't suppress your feelings, Chris, your best friend just died-" he's trying, he's such a good person, I love him so much.

"I'll cry about it once you're safe, okay!?" My voice comes out far more harshly than I ever intended. "I'm sorry- imsorry, imsorry-" I repeat, backing off "I cant- I can't be weak right now- I need to be strong until this is over then..." He pulls me into a hug, fuck- it feels so nice to be close to him- he's so warm, so alive, so full of colour...

The lunatic got us again. This is what we get for trying to help Sam. We followed the trail down under the lodge, found so much weird shit, then eventually saw her passed out, tied to a chair and when we tried to help...

Now, there's a gun on the table, and I've got one free arm- if this fucker makes me do what I think he's going to... "Y/N? Sweetheart, wake up." I coax him gently, the lights turn on, there's saws above us.

"Chris...?" He mumbles, "where- where are we?"

"I dont- what the hell happened?!" I notice his black eye, I'm gonna kill that guy, I swear to god.

"I punched him after he got you," he cries, god- I hate that sound. He should never have to cry "I think he hit me?"

My eyes flare in anger "I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna murder his fucking face off."

"Hello again, my special little subjects." His distorted voice comes over the intercom, the saws start spinning, I lift the gun and shoot at them, desperate to make them stop, nothing happens. He continues speaking and confirms my fears. Either shoot myself or Y/N.

I bring the gun to my neck, just beneath my jaw. "No! Don't you fucking dare!" Y/N screams, thrashing and pulling against the restraints "Chris, stop- I can't- don't make me"

"I love you. You be smart, be safe, be brave. Please, I need you to make it out alive, baby." I'm confident, I'm assured. There's no hesitation in my voice, just regret. I thought we could grow up together, go to the same college, find a nice apartment, good jobs, married- I wanted to live that dream life with him. I thought we would... "I love you so fucking much. Just close your eyes. Just close your eyes- and make it off this fucking mountain. You're strong, you can do it. Please- survive."

"Fuck this- no! Chris, dont- don't make me live without you- it's not worth it-" he sobs.

"I love you-"

Chapter 7

I'm alive? My neck hurts like hell, I know the gun went off. My eyes open, Y/N sobs desperately, his eyes shut tight- like he's trying to disappear, my baby... I look around "What the fuck??"

He appears... SHIT- I lift the gun and shoot him several times, but still nothing happens... instead the freak laughs- he fucking laughs at me, he starts taunting me. "You've heard of blanks before? I mean really?" He takes the mask o- Josh?!?

Sam and Mike come from a door behind us, equally shocked- he's still fucking laughing- they release our wrists from the restraints while Josh explains his plan. I killed him... he made me saw him in half- worse than that, if that vision was right? He would've killed Y/N too.

Me, Mike and Y/N are taking him to the shed. Sam didn't want to come, the sick fuck chased her around while she was in just a towel! Mike is the angriest, rightfully so, josh killed Jessica. He's fucking crazy! And still acting like it's all a joke.

On the walk, I notice Y/N is trailing behind, clearly something is puzzling him. I take his hand "What's up, babe?"

"I just..." He thinks for a moment "remember that weird dollhouse in the basement? The doll meant to look like me was in the bedroom, but I was in the kitchen that night"

"...so?"

"So if he was doing this as revenge for what happened to the twins, if he's seen the video, he'd know that! He'd know I wasn't a part of it, so why the hell was the doll upstairs? Why put me in that saw trap? Why us? You didn't do anything either!" He explains his conundrum.

"Yeah, that is weird, plus if he's saying he didn't mean to hurt anybody, why the hell did I see-" I stop myself, I still don't know what I saw, and whatever it was, I'm best asking josh about it rather than bother Y/N with my delusion. "Why the hell did I see him get sawn in half? Or- or have to shoot myself in the neck?"

"And killing Jessica, and basically sexually assaulting Sam." He adds before we catch up to Mike and Josh, the former is trying to tie the latter to a piller.

"Oh, finally can you two hold him, please?" Mike asks as soon as he sees us. Y/N holds down Josh's right side, I take the left while Mike quickly ties him up. I can feel Josh's eyes peering into me. It's not an angry gaze, it's... sad? Betrayed? He seems hurt, but that obviously can't make sense, did he expect me to kill the love of my life? Did he want me to??

Josh rambles incoherently while the rest of us talk, trying to figure out any way to make this make sense, "Chris?" Josh interrupts Y/N while he talks "Chris!"

"What?" I relent.

"Can we talk alone, please? I don't trust them like I do you." He has the balls to say something like that after what he did? I turn to the other two...

"Sure, yeah. We'll wait outside." Mike nods before I even say anything "c'mon, Y/N. He can't do anything, he's tied up." Y/N kisses me before following Mike out of the shed

"Now what, Josh?" I look to him, expecting some sort of explanation that'll put everything into place and make it all make sense.

"I missed you. You know that?" He seems partly lucid when he says that.

"Yeah? And a text wasn't enough?"

"No. Nonono. I missed you. He stoleyou."

"Y/N? He's my boyfriend, he didn't steal me-"

"YES HE DID. You're supposed to be myyy best friend and you abandoned me for him?? Really??"

"No! What the hell? We were still friends Josh. It's not like I started dating him and then all of a sudden I just dropped you, we still hung out!"

He shakes his head "that's not true. Thatsnot true. That's nottrue. ThatsNOTTRUE"

I sigh, this isn't going anywhere. I need to ask him about what I saw. Was he actually going to kill him? "Josh, the saw..."

"I wanted to test you. To see if you even fucking cared. You let me die so fucking FAST!" Josh starts to thrash around.

"JOSH, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU??" I scream "You- you put me in a position- you made me pick between him and you. You did that to see if i cared??? Did you- did you rig it up so he would've died if I chose you?"

He laughs- I'm gonna fucking kill him- "aw don't be mad at me..."

He wasgoing to kill him- he was going tokill him- hewas goingto killhim- hewasgoingtokillhim- Josh was going to kill Y/N.

Fury rages through me "YOU FUCKING CUNT-" I grab a piece of ply wood and whip it towards his head- he hit Y/N- smack- he tortured Y/N- smack- wanted me to shoot Y/N- smack- HE TRIED TO KILL Y/N-

Before I can smack him again, Mike pulls me away and grabs the wood out of my hands "Chris- what the fuck?!"

Y/N holds me back- I take deep breaths- shit- what did I do?? "He- he confessed..." my voice is shaking, Josh is unconscious- bleeding- shit- what the fuck did I do??

"To what??" Mike sounds appalled by my actions.

I tremble- "he was- he wanted to kill him..."

"Who?"

My eyes meet Y/N, even after what he saw me do, he still has gentle love in his eyes "the saw wasn't just a fake body thing... he was going to kill you... he was fully ready to kill you..."

Chapter 8

"Then your friend will already be dead." The old guy had a sorry yet confident expression.

"Good." I mutter.

Y/N shakes my shoulder, "we need to go after him..."

I scoff "fuck that. Fuck him. He did it to himself"

"Chris, this isn't you," he pleads. Fuck- he's adorable. "We can't leave him to die. Or... I can't. No matter what he did..."

"Don't. Don't be stupid. He just said he's dead." I try to reason with him.

"If there's a chance, i can't let him die like that."

"Then I'll come with ye." The old guy tells Y/N.

"No, you're not. He's not going." I sigh "I'll go. You'll stay in the lodge."

"I'm fine, Chris."

"And I plan to keep you that way. I'll get josh, try not to kill him, and bring him back. Only because I adore you."

"Glad it's worth something."

His fucking head came off. We were looking for Josh- the Wendigo came- And took the old guys head off. I ran through the snow towards the lodge with the thing right behind me. I was shooting it whenever I could- it was so fucking fast, I almost didn't make it, but Y/N was right by the door waiting for me.

In the basement, Emily was begging Mike not to shoot her. I would've fought him, but- I just wanted Y/N. I just wanted him to hold me. Hes so gentle. He's so loving. He's so warm. I tried to shut out their dispute. I'm being held by my boyfriend. He loves me, I'm safe, no matter what happens next. Y/N is here, Y/N is holding me, Y/N is going to take care of me.

In his arms, I let myself break...

Chapter 10

That screech...

Oh fuck-

We hear the Wendigos coming through the basement- how did they get here??

The three of us sprint away from the sound, Y/N lets me run ahead, Emily behind him- up the stairs, through the maze, eventually to the movie theatre where Sam and Mike have opened the door "RUN!" I yell

"Go, go, go, go!!" Y/N calls out behind me.

I reach the main floor and run towards the door until I see the Wendigo perched on the wooden chandelier, I freeze, they can't see you if you're standing still. The old guys words replay in my mind. My eyes search for Y/N, but I can't find him, just Emily. She didn't shove him out of the way, did she???

The Wendigos chasing us climb up the stairs, and the main one, seemingly infuriated, started fighting them, giving me time to escape. I throw the door open and run. Please let him be okay, please- please- my legs collapse into the snow, please be okay, please come out.

Emily is out next, I don't have the fire to fight her in me anymore, I've done terrible things tonight, and all of it will be for nothing if that boy doesn't come out. Please, it can't have been for nothing.

He comes into view- Please-! But the Wendigo stares at him, no, no, please, he hasn't done anything wrong... i head towards the lodge, I need to catch him.

Sam's squeaky sneakers save him- holy shit- the Wendigo heads towards her, thank fuck- Y/N sprints into my arms, oh- baby...

I guide his sobbing form away from the lodge "I've got you, we made it- you- you made it-" I wipe his hair away from his sweaty forehead, I admire his face, his adorable fucking face "You survived..."

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

~Elliebean714 🦋🍄

#until dawn chris #chris hartley x reader #chris hartley #chris hartley until dawn x reader #chris until dawn #low-key climbing class angst too lol #🍄 anon #what if i said 🍄 anon was the loml??? what then!?!?#AM I CRAZYYYYY FOR THAT?! AM I WILD???#🍄 ANON BRINGS OUT THE BEST IN ME #THEY MAKE ME A LITERARY GOD #me the entire time while writing this: GIRL YOU ATE THAT-#CAUSE GIRLS I ATE #🍄 anon i adore you

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