#keep him in your pocket while you work or study

[timethehobo]

Tiny companion professor is proud of you for making it through half the week! 👍

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Stepping through the door of his apartment, Xavier freezes at the sight of you curled up on his couch. The dim light of the entryway casts long shadows across your sleeping form. His eyes soften as he approaches on silent feet. For a moment, he simply stands there, studying your peaceful face. He carefully removes his jacket and places it over your shoulders.

“You’re here,” he murmurs. A half-empty cup of tea sits on the table—long gone cold. His fingers hover over it briefly, a subtle furrow appearing between his brows. He hadn’t expected you to be here since you didn't text him anything besides ‘take care!’ a few hours ago.

“See you in the morning,” he whispers, brushing hair from your face. The exhaustion starts to catch up with him from the mission. Xavier settles on the carpeted floor, content to watch over you until morning—with his hand holding yours, and his head resting beside you.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The apartment is quiet when Zayne unlocks the door, shoulders heavy with fatigue after the unexpected emergency surgery. His steps falter when he spots you asleep on the couch, the book still open on your lap. Quietly removing his coat, he approaches with quiet steps, taking in the scene with a mixture of slight exasperation and fondness.

“I told you not to wait,” he mutters, though there’s no real reproach in his tone. He marks your place in the book before setting it aside. Then, he lifts you with careful hands—the same hands that saved a life hours earlier—and carries you to bed. As he tucks you in, he smiles before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You never listen,” he whispers, affection evident in his voice despite his words. Before joining you, he retrieves a small candy from his pocket, and places it on your side of the pillow as a silent gesture of appreciation.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel bursts through the door, ready to regale you with how annoying the people were or how stuffy the place was or how the traffic wasted his time on the way. His entrance halts abruptly when he spots you asleep on the couch, clearly having dozed off while waiting for his return.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases softly, though you can’t hear him. He studies you like he’s admiring his art on the canvases, memorizing the way moonlight plays across your features.

“You were waiting for me. How sweet,” he murmurs, gently brushing your cheek, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your skin. He settles beside you, pulling you against his chest without waking you.

“We’ll greet each other properly tomorrow,” he whispers into your hair, joining you to sleep.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The door to Sylus’s private residence opens with barely a sound, his commanding presence entering the space with calculated steps. He looks amused when he discovers you asleep on his bed, clearly having attempted to wait for his return.

“What a pleasant surprise,” he remarks quietly. Approaching with silent footsteps, he observes how peaceful you look—a stark contrast to the ruthlessness he demonstrated hours earlier when dealing with a betrayal of his ‘employee’.

“You could have demanded I return sooner,” he settles onto the bed beside you, careful not to disturb your slumber, “I would have obliged.”

His admission comes easily even in your sleep. He props himself up on one elbow, content to simply watch the rise and fall of your chest, the slight flutter of your eyelids as you dream. His fingers hover above your cheek but don't make contact—reluctant to wake you.

It’s not his time to sleep yet, but his other work can wait.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The gathering continues in full swing, but Caleb’s attention has shifted entirely to you, noticing your struggle to keep your eyes open despite your polite attempts to hide your exhaustion.

He calls his adjutant to escort you home safely. You protest immediately, reminding him of your plans to watch a movie together later—the one you've been talking about all week. Your resistance only softens his expression momentarily.

“The movie will still be there when I return,” he whispers. “I won’t be long.”

An hour later, he enters his place quietly. He pauses at the doorway, taking in the sight before him—you’ve fallen asleep on the couch, the television still playing the opening menu of the movie you had insisted on watching while waiting. A spread of snacks remains largely untouched on the coffee table.

He chuckles quietly before lifting you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you to bed, whispering, “I have a day off tomorrow. I promise we’ll do anything you want.”

[cowboybeepboop]

Rescue

"Please, p-please, I want you to make me feel good."

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Reynolds x f! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Needy and whiny Bob, kind of a dom fem reader, oral m! recieving 

a/n: Sorry chat.. This is such a ramble, but I  LOVE BOB omg Lewis Pullman is on top!!! As always, send any requests you have my way! I will write for any fandom or character, but I would especially love some Lewis Pullman character requests 😛

Bob stood in the dimly lit room, a flickering fluorescent light casting eerie shadows across the sterile walls. His arms were shackled behind his back, held tightly in place by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, a woman who radiated calculation and control.

He felt utterly isolated. No one was treating him with any kindness; he was merely an object to them, a tool to be used and discarded at their convenience. After his shift into Sentry and then the Void, she’s kept him locked up in this damn room. 

The room he was kept in was small and confined, barely large enough for him to move a few paces in any direction. The air was thick and stale, almost stifling. There was no comfort here, no human kindness. It was as if they wanted him to feel isolated and forgotten.

Bob looked around the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner. The only sound was the steady hum of the fluorescent light and the occasional clink of his shackles as he shifted his weight. He tried to take deep breaths, to keep his fear and anxiety at bay, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

While he could use his powers, he’s simply just too scared to bring out the void again. So instead, he spends his time pacing his tiny concrete room. The fluorescent light overhead flickered intermittently, casting strange shadows on the sterile walls. 

Every now and then, he would glance up to see if the light was about to go out completely. 

He was exhausted. 

Not just physically, but mentally as well. The constant fear and anxiety of being in this small space with no human contact was taking its toll on him. He could hear footsteps in the hallway outside, but no one came to visit him. 

They weren't even giving him any food.

After Valentina realized she couldn’t *use* him for what she wanted, she decided not to deal with him at all, assuming he would be too fearful to try and escape. Plus, if he did use his powers against her once again, she would just hit her kill switch. 

You'd been working with Bucky and the "Thunderbolts" to rescue Bob from Valentina's capture. This plan only works if everyone works together, which, for the most part, they've been doing pretty well, at least until you became involved. 

Creaking open the door, you hold your breath as you step into the small and dimly lit room, the sound of your footsteps on the cold concrete floor making the space feel even more claustrophobic. The room is barely illuminated by a single flickering fluorescent light above.

As you enter, you notice Bob pacing the length of the room, his arms shackled behind his back, looking exhausted and tense. He glances over at you, his eyes widening slightly as he realises that someone has entered.

"You're Bob?" Your voice is gentle while you creep over to him, eyes roaming over him, taking in his timid stance. 

Bob pauses in his pacing as you approach, his body tense and wary, but he nods slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yes, I’m Bob,” he says softly. He studies you warily, his eyes darting to the knife between your teeth before returning to your face.

"I'm Y/N, I'm gonna get you out of here, alright?" You slip the knife into your pocket, skillfully you begin to pick the locks on his shackles, which are surprisingly weak for being meant to hold someone with his powers. 

Bob looks at you with a mix of surprise and relief, his eyes widening slightly as you begin to pick the locks on his shackles. "You're...you're here to help me?" he whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

He watches you with a sense of awe as you work on the locks, clearly impressed by your skill. The locks seem to come undone surprisingly easily, given the fact that they're meant to hold someone as powerful as him.

"Of course, I'm here to help you." You smile sweetly at him, brushing your fingers against his shoulder, offering some comfort, waiting for Bucky's all clear signal. 

Your touch seems to momentarily surprise him, and he flinches away from it, before realising that you’re trying to help him. He gives you a small, hesitant smile back, clearly not used to any kind of human contact in this place.

As you wait for Bucky's signal, the tension in the room continues to build. Bob glances around the room, his eyes darting to the door, clearly anxious to get out of here as soon as possible.

Bucky lets you know that it's time to move, you carefully pull out your knife again, preparing for any necessary defense. "Come with me, Bob, stay close and hold onto this just in case." You hand him the blade, pulling out a small gun as both of you move toward the exit. 

Bob takes the blade from you, holding it tightly in his hand. He follows you closely as you move towards the exit, his footsteps quiet behind you. He’s clearly on edge, glancing around the room as if waiting for someone to come bursting through the door.

The gun in your hand is a reassuring presence for him, and he sticks close to your side, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of danger. As you reach the door, Bob places a hand on your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "You'll p-protect me, right?" he whispers.

"I'll keep you safe," you respond gently, using your free hand to pat his hand that's resting on your shoulder before moving forward. Putting your focus back on getting him out. 

Bob nods at your reassurance, his hand remaining on your shoulder for just a moment longer before pulling away. He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to steel his nerves as you move forward, your focus now fixed on getting him out of this place.

Together, you move through the building, keeping an eye out for any guards or obstacles in your path. Bob keeps close by your side, gripping the knife tightly as he follows you, his eyes darting around nervously.

With Bob safely in the back of the vehicle, you let out a ragged sigh of relief. The adrenaline that had been rushing through your veins starts to wear off, and you suddenly feel the overwhelming tiredness of the rescue mission catch up to you.

As soon as the vehicle starts moving, you look over at Bob, who is now sitting next to you, still clutching the knife in his hand. He seems just as exhausted as you are, if not more, his eyes tired and weary.

Brushing your fingers over his hand, you gently pull the knife away from his grasp. "You're safe now, Bob, I promise." The team knew that Val wouldn’t come after them, not with their hold over her, so it would be an easy trip back. 

Bob doesn't resist as you take the knife from him, his grip loosening as soon as your touch. He looks up at you, his eyes weary and tired, but there's a glimmer of trust there now, a hint of vulnerability that he couldn't have shown before.

"Thank you," he whispers softly, his voice hoarse. "Thank you for getting me out of there."

"Of course," you grin at him, scooting closer to his side so he can rest against your shoulder. "You should rest, close your eyes."

Bob looks at you with a tired expression, seeming hesitant for a moment. But then, as if too tired to resist, he starts to lean into your shoulder, his head heavy against your body.

He lets out a weary sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he begins to relax, finally feeling safe in your presence. "I...I haven't slept in days," he admits quietly, his words slurring slightly with exhaustion.

"You deserve some good rest, Bob." You run your fingers down his arm, attempting to lure him to sleep.

Bob's eyelids seem to grow heavier with every passing moment, his body sagging against yours as fatigue washes over him. With your gentle touch, he seems to relax further, his breathing beginning to even out as he drifts closer and closer to sleep.

He mumbles something, a single word that escapes his lips in a tired slur. "Safe," he whispers, his voice barely audible.

A few weeks have passed since you all successfully rescued Bob, and thankfully, Valentina never tried to take him back. You sigh as your training with The Winter Soldier ends in another defeat, lying against the exercise mat, you take a few steadying breaths.

Bucky stands above you, a smirk on his face as he regards your defeated form. He offers a hand to help you up from the mat, his grip firm as he pulls you to your feet.

"Not bad," he says, eyeing you up and down. "You're getting better." Despite your defeat, there's a hint of pride in his voice, as if he's impressed by your improvement.

You catch a glimpse of Bob outside the room, letting go of Buckys hand and ignoring his compliment, you practically skip over to him. "How are you doing this morning, Bob?"  

Bob looks up as you approach, a small, shy smile forming on his lips as he sees you. "M-morning," he manages, his voice soft and tentative. "I'm, uh, I'm alright," he says, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He glances down at the floor, then back up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before darting away.

"Wanna grab breakfast with me?" you grin sweetly, stretching and cracking your back. 

Bob nods shyly, a slight flush on his cheeks as he watches you stretch, his eyes darting away quickly when he realises that he was staring. He shoves his hands into his pockets, looking every bit the shy, awkward, but sweet man you're beginning to learn he is.

"Uh, yeah, that sounds nice," he replies, barely managing to meet your gaze. He's clearly trying to hide his nervousness, but failing miserably.

"Here, let's grab something from the kitchen, and then we can watch a movie in my room!" You're giddy at the thought of spending more time with him, you’ve been doing everything you can to get him more comfortable with you. 

Bob nods eagerly, his eyes lighting up at your suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds great," he says softly, a small smile on his lips. He follows you eagerly as you lead him toward the kitchen, his footsteps light behind you.

"Movie in your room?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice. "J-just the two of us?"

"Yeah, why not?" You grab some cereal for both of you, focused on the small task at hand. 

"Uh, no reason," he says sheepishly, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks again. "I just, uh, didn’t expect it to be just the two of us." He fidgets nervously as he follows you back to your room, his hand occasionally clenching and unclenching at his side.

You open the door for him, gesturing for him to walk in. "Well, we can keep things purely PG," you tease as you shut the door behind you, which is more a less a goal of yours than anything else. 

You find him simply irresistible; his kind, sheepish demeanor gets you weak in the knees. The two of you have never been alone in a private space very long before, so this opens up the opportunity for more than just friendly interactions.

Bob's cheeks visibly redden at your playful comment, and he lets out a small, nervous chuckle as he steps into your room. He looks around, taking in the space with a sense of curiosity and wonder. It's clear that he's a bit out of his comfort zone.

"Purely PG," he repeats, his voice cracking slightly. He stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, waiting for you to lead the way.

"Come sit," you plop on the bed, patting the mattress beside you. "We can find something together," your heart races as you notice the flush of his cheeks. 

Bob hesitates for a moment before slowly walking over to the bed and sitting down next to you. He sits on the edge of the mattress, his body tense and stiff as if he's afraid to get too comfortable.

He glances at you, his cheeks flushed red, as he tries hard to avoid your gaze. "Uh, sure," he stutters, his eyes darting around the room. "What do you like to watch?" he fumbles with the sleeves of his shirt. 

"I like comedy, shit to take my mind off of... Well, all of this." You scoot closer to him, reaching over his lap for the remote on the other side of him. Your breasts slightly brushing over his thighs with your swift movements. 

Bob's eyes widen and his cheeks flush bright red at the unexpected contact, and he tries hard to keep his gaze averted.

He lets out a soft, strangled noise, something between a whimper and a gasp. There's a brief moment of tense silence as he tries to recover his composure, his body completely stiff under your touch.

"You can relax, y'know," you grin as you turn the TV on, enjoying his reaction to your subtle touches. "I don't bite, Bob."

Bob blushes even harder at your words, his body slowly starting to relax under your touch. He tries to laugh it off, though the sound comes out as more of a nervous cough. "I know, I know," he stutters, his eyes flickering over to you before darting away again.

You find a random movie, glancing over to him, you question, "Is this okay?" Bob nods, his body visibly relaxing a bit more as he hears your words. He risks a glance at you, a small, shy smile appearing on his lips.

"Yeah," he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is...yeah, this is fine." He shifts a little closer to you, his thigh now lightly brushing against yours, as he focuses on the movie playing on the screen.

Butterflies fill your stomach as you notice the small gesture he makes; it's nothing crazy, but it's the first time he's really initiated anything between you since the day you met.  

Bob seems to realise what he's done, and he quickly stiffens up again, his cheeks reddening once more. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression a mix of nervousness and shyness.

"Uh, sorry, I, uh...sorry," he mumbles, his gaze darting back to the screen. 

"Hey, it’s okay! Don't worry about it at all." You both begin eating your breakfast, your eyes wandering to him every once in a while to admire his adorable features. 

Bob seems to relax a bit more with your reassurance, his body slowly unclenching as he starts to eat his cereal. He notices you glancing at him, and every time you do, he can't help but feel his cheeks heat up again.

He steals glances at you as well, his gaze darting over to you every now and then, his eyes lingering on your face for just a moment before darting back to the screen. There's a growing sense of comfortable intimacy between you two.

With a sigh, you push the empty bowl to the side, content with the feeling of fullness, you lean back on your arms with a small yawn. Bob finished eating his cereal as well, placing his bowl beside yours. He glances at you as you lean back on your arms, a slight smile on his lips as he hears your yawn.

He looks more relaxed now than he did when you both first walked into the room, his body no longer as stiff as before. "You tired?" he asks softly, tilting his head slightly to the side as he looks at you.

"Yeah, Bucky kicked my ass in there," you groan, thinking back to the morning training. "He always does." 

Glancing over to him, your lips curve into a small smile as you move to rest your head in his lap. "Is this alright with you, Bob?" You’re making some sneaky moves, which you know you shouldn’t, but fuck, the way he looks at you has your body aching. 

Bob blushes furiously as you rest your head in his lap, his body stiffening for a moment before relaxing again. He tentatively places a hand on your shoulder, his touch light and gentle.

"Yeah," he mumbles, sounding a little breathless. "I… I don't mind." He seems surprised that you're being so close to him, but there's a hint of pleasure in his eyes as he looks down at you.

"You're so cute," you give him a slight teasing response, nuzzling into his warmth as you relax, eyes slowly fluttering shut.

Bob blushes even harder at your words, a soft, startled noise escaping his lips. He's not used to being called cute, and your teasing comment has thrown him off slightly.

He feels a pleasant shiver run through his body as you nuzzle into his warmth, and he unconsciously starts to stroke your shoulder gently with his hand. "Y-you're the one who's cute," he mumbles, his words coming out a little indistinct.

It was your turn to be flustered now, his response catching you off guard. "Yeah? You think so?" You bite down on your lip, fingers tracing small shapes into his thigh mindlessly. 

Bob seems to realise that he's made you flustered this time, and he can't help but feel a small sense of pride in it. He looks down at you, a small smile on his lips as he notices your fingers tracing shapes on his thigh. 

He subconsciously moves his hand from your shoulder to your hair, his touch light and tentative as he starts to run his fingers through it. "Yeah," he says softly, his eyes flickering away from yours briefly before returning. "I...I really do think so."

Bob's breath hitches slightly as he feels your hand moving further up his thigh, your nails grazing him, sending a wave of tingling through his body. He tries to keep his composure, his eyes darting away from you for a moment as he struggles to control his reaction.

"S-stop that," he mumbles, his voice shaky and uneven. "You're teasing me," he practically whines the last part.

"Teasing?" you question, knowing exactly what you're doing, fingers getting achingly close to his crotch. 

Bob lets out a soft whimper as your fingers get ever closer to his crotch, his eyes widening as he looks down at your hand. His cheeks are flushed red, and his words come out as strangled stutters, "You know you're teasing me."

His body is tense under your touch, every muscle coiled taut as he tries to control his reaction to your actions.

"Is it okay?" You shift slightly, lips pressing gentle kisses onto his clothed thighs. "Can I touch you, *tease* you like this?" your fingers continue their wandering, slowly inching closer and closer to his cock. 

Bob's breath hitches at the feel of your kisses on his thighs, his eyes fluttering shut as he tries to control the sensations coursing through him. His hands clench and unclench, and he can't help but whine softly under his breath.

He nods, his head tilting back just a bit, and his voice comes out as a strangled whisper, "Yes, yes, it's okay. You can, uh, you can touch me like that."

You fumble with the waistband of his sweat pants, slowly exposing his lower half, eager to taste him, to take care of him. "I wanna make you feel good, Bob..." Your lips continue their torment, but this time against bare skin. 

Bob's breathing becomes more ragged as you start to expose his lower half, his body quivering under your touch. He lets out a soft gasp, his eyes wide and fixed on you as you begin to lay kisses on his bare skin.

"Oh, God," he manages to groan out, his thighs trembling with anticipation. He wants you just as badly, his words coming out in a breathless, needy whisper, "Please, p-please, I want you to make me feel good."

You push Bob's boxers down, revealing his hardened cock. Your eyes rake over the length of him, admiring his size and girth before you lean in closer, letting your warm breath tickle his skin. 

Bob's entire body jolts at the sensation, his cock twitching in anticipation of what's to come.

You wrap your soft, warm lips around the tip of his erection, your tongue swirling around the head as you gently suck. Bob's hands instinctively grab onto the bed sheets, knuckles turning white with the effort it takes not to touch you. 

You can hear his muffled gasps of pleasure as you slowly take more of him into your mouth, your teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin. Your hands come up to gently caress his thighs, the smoothness of your skin gliding against his. 

Increasing the pace, your tongue dances around his shaft as you take him deeper, your throat muscles tightening around him. You can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge with each stroke, his hips bucking slightly as he tries to keep still.

The wet sounds of your mouth working him fill the air, mingling with Bob's breathy moans. You're thorough in your ministrations, not wanting to leave any part of him untouched. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping in rhythm with your mouth, your other hand gently cupping and playing with his balls.

Bob's breathing becomes more erratic, his moans growing louder as you work him closer to climax. His thighs quiver under your touch, and you know he's close. You look up at him, eyes locked with his, the intimacy of the moment almost too much to handle.

With one final, deep suck, you feel his cock pulse in your mouth, and with a strangled cry, he releases, his warm seed filling your mouth. You swallow it all, not missing a drop, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as you pull away, giving his sensitive tip one last lick before sitting back with a satisfied smile. 

Bob's body goes lax, his eyes fluttering shut as he tries to catch his breath, a blissful expression etched onto his face.

The room is filled with the sound of his heavy breathing, and the sight of his spent cock against his stomach is incredibly satisfying. You lean up to kiss him, sharing the taste of him on your lips, and whisper, "I told you I'd take good care of you."

Bob's mind is completely overwhelmed by pleasure, his body trembling beneath your touch. He can barely form coherent thoughts, his whole world reduced to the sensations you're bringing him. Your name escapes his lips in a breathy moan, and he clings to the bed sheets tightly, trying to anchor himself to reality. 

When you finally pull away, he pants heavily, his body flushed and spent. He looks up at you, his expression one of pure bliss, and he can barely manage to speak, his voice rough and low as he whispers, "You're...you're incredible."

Here’s part 2 😛

[bloomiize]

perv/gooner!jake is gross and he's gotten even worse

part one two three

perv!jake finally asks for your instagram when you're paired up for a project. It’s not like he doesn’t already know it by heart. Not like he hasn’t jerked off to every single one of your posts. Not like he wasn’t drooling over that innocent little selfie you posted last night. He just wants you to know he exists now. And you happily exchange Instagrams with him like it’s nothing.

perv!jake tells his roommate everything. He asks for advice on how to get closer to you, more specifically, how he could get his dick wet.

"She sounds hot. If you ever wanna recreate that hentai scene, let me know." Jake and his roommate have always joked around about sex, but this time it felt real. Too real. His dick is already begging to be touched at the thought of fucking you, he doesn't mind if he isn't the only one.

perv!jake made an effort to get to know you. Your favourite colour, the way you like your coffee, the songs you hum when you're zoning out. He also knows how you always tug your skirt down when you think it’s ridden up too high, not high enough in his opinion. How you're so naive to just bend over without thinking, right in front of him. He knows you prefer lacy panties over thongs, soft and girly, the kind he imagines peeling off you with his teeth. He’s memorized you. Every inch. Every habit. Every sound you make.

perv!jake likes how close you two are now. You always invite him over to study, to work on the project like good classmates. And yeah, maybe he’s looked through your drawers when you’re in the kitchen. Maybe he’s taken a not-so-innocent glance at your laundry basket, eyes locked on the crumpled pair of panties sitting right on top.

He’s thought about it.

Pocketing a bra, a pair of panties, hell—even a sock. Just something. Anything that smells like you. Feels like you. Something he can wrap around his fist while he jerks off to the thought of your soft little voice saying his name.

It’s disgusting. He knows that. Still doesn’t stop him.

perv!jake can never make it halfway through the door without his dick twitching. Can you really blame him, though? You’re always wearing a tiny tank top, no bra, and he can see everything. Your shorts, if you can even call them that, barely cover your ass, riding up with every step you take. Jake nearly cums in his pants right then and there.

perv!jake helps you solve a complicated problem, and you light up like he’s the smartest boy in the world. As a sign of your appreciation, you hug him, tight, soft, your tits pressing right up against his chest like it's nothing.

And he moans.

Quiet. Slips out before he can even think. You don’t seem to notice. You just keep smiling, thanking him like you can't feel something hard pressed against you. His dick’s already leaking, he can feel it.

He clears his throat, cheeks red. “I- uh, I’m not really feeling the best. I think I’m gonna head out early.”

You pout, sweet and worried, and offer to get him some water, maybe let him lie down, hoping he'll stay a bit longer. But he’s already opening the door.

Because he needs to get home. Now. He’s seconds from cumming in his pants, and he knows once he’s alone he’s gonna jerk it to the feeling of your tits against him—again and again until he’s lightheaded and shaking.

gooner!jake cant stop thinking about you, or more specifically, your tits. Its hard not to when they're so perfect. Soft, warm, and pushed against him when you hugged. He swears you did it on purpose, not that he minds. He can't stop fucking the panties he took from your apartment a few days ago when you had him over, surely you didn't notice they went missing. They're dirty and sticky from his fluids but he can't stop, he wont stop. Jake's not proud of it but this is the closest he's getting to fucking your perfect pussy.

gooner!jake got a call from you in the middle of edging himself for the third time tonight.

"Hey! Did you make it home okay? You left in a hurry and you said you weren't feeling well..." Your voice rings through his head. He's gripping his dick tighter now, still moving his hand up and down. He can't just cum immediently to the sound of your voice, that would be so embarrassing. He has to last longer for you.

"Y-yeah I made it home fine. T-thanks" Jake's holding back moans. It's disgusting how even when he's on the phone he won't stop. He cock is throbbing in agony, he's been edging himself non stop and he so desperately wants to cum, to feel you, to fill you up.

"You don't sound sound okay Jakey, you should've just stayed. I would've taken care of you." You say it so innocently that Jake loses it. He lets out a groan and thrusts his hips violently into his hand. Jake knows your panties are ruined by him but it doesn't stop him from shoving it into his mouth, pretending he's tasting your sweet cunt against his dirty tongue

How could you just say that so casually? Calling him Jakey? Saying you would've taken care of him?

You have no idea what you do to him.

"f-f-fuck y/n. I want you so fucking b-bad." It slips out of Jake's mouth before he realizes it.

"Walking around with those t-tiny shorts. I should've just be-bent you over." His brain is practically gone at this point, all he cares about is cumming. His eyes are rolling to the back of his head while his hand moves furiously. He's moaning loudly enough that you could hear him through the phone. He doesn't care anymore; he wants to be gross for you, if you'd let him.

"I'm go-gonna cum, fu-fuck!" His hips sputtered into his fist and thick, hot ropes of cum sprayed all over his phone. He's oversentive from edging himself nonstop, brain completely empty and dick still hard.

gooner!jake realizes that you were still on the phone, you didn't hang up. Before he can apologize, your small voice comes out,

a whimper.

Are you... are you touching yourself to him right now?

from bloomiize: tysm for reading the first part!! I honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to ask for a part 2, let alone enjoy my writing 😭 I was super nervous posting >< but your support means everything!! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for part 3 !!

taglist (OMG I HAVE A TAGLIST?!?! if you commented on part 1 I tagged you, lmk if you wanna be removed! ^^)

@femmefqtqle @seobinghard @maysshade @dark-moon-light02 @jjongsies @nikismyprincesses @iaaespa @heeseungsbm @shy9-29

[nightingale-prompts]

God's TV- DC x DP prompt

Accidentally summoning a god from another dimension can happen, especially when cults are involved. However, no can could predict that the not only was the god a teenage boy but also a very bored teenage boy who didn't want to leave.

So he stayed and moved into Titans tower.

Danny is helpful (when he wants to be) but rarely goes out on missions. He says they are boring and nothing is dangerous enough to exert the effort. Instead, he minds the medical bay. Having a healer more than made up for the lack of help.

It's not like anyone disliked Danny or thought he didn't do anything it was just that he was unpredictable. Danny could be nice, considerate, and even sweet if he was working in the medbay. He could also be a pain in the ass anywhere else. He loved pranks and scaring people with his powers. He was harmless though.

No one really knew what he did all day. He was usually in his room doing something they guested. Said room was an anomaly. It was larger on the inside having been made into a pocket dimension. The appearance and organization of the room changed every time you went in.

It was after one mission that the team learned what was in the room.

A rogue had used their invention to erase Superboy's memories and they didn't know what to do. They took him to Danny who was currently rearranging the medicine by color. They hoped that his powers covered mind-altering afflictions. Unfortunately, Danny couldn't wave a hand and fix this.

Instead, Danny took the group to his room. The decor was neon Tokyo meets space right now. The furniture was currently floating and almost hitting Wonder Girl in the head with an end table. Of course, there was no gravity here.

"Stay here while I grab it," Danny said flying up the vertical corridor.

While he was gone the room rearranged itself into a contemporary format. The furniture grounded itself and shifted into a normal living room.

Danny returned with a cart and a headset. He placed a card he pulled out of the cart into the headset and put it on the dazed Superboy's head.

"Wait what is that?" Tim asked.

"It's his memories. I kept a backup in case this happened." Danny shrugged.

Immediately everyone began asking what the hell does that mean and why does he have that.

"Oh please, this dimension has this happened all the time. Amnesia is so cliché and cheap. I saw a pattern and decided the easiest way to prevent you from losing the entirety of your lives was to make save states of your memories." Danny said matter of fact.

Robin pinched the bridge of his nose.

Impulse studied the rack of cases and looking for the card with his name on it.

Wondergirl sighed, she was used to this from Robin but even he wouldn't go this far.

"What? It's not like just anyone can find these. Only you can access your own memories anyways. I just decided to repurpose my RE:Viewer." Danny pouted.

"What is a reviewer?" Wally asked flipping through the cases. Each one had titles like moves or shows with an arrangement of stickers.

"The RE:Viewer is something I created to catalog things I've seen looking into other dimensions. I don't have an infinite memory you know. But the longer I have my title the more I'll lose touch with my mortality. These things help me stay close to people by giving me the chance to remember how it feels. I also have been using them to get the stories of others. Keeping their experiences like you'd keep a TV show or movie. So many stories could have been lost to time but now they are saved. I use them to teach myself." Danny smiled.

The concept genuinely sounded interesting. Like experiencing a movie in 4d.

It had been 3 minutes before Kon took off the headset and back to his old self.

Danny pulled the input card out and it disappeared into another realm with a flick of the wrist. Danny was completely honest that the copies were inaccessible to everyone but him.

"You feeling alright Superboy? Your memory should be backed up until a week ago." Danny said shining a light in his eye.

"I'm fine. I think. What happened?" Kon asked batting the light out of his eyes.

"Explanation later. Take a nap first. You aren't concussed at least." Danny informed.

"What are the stickers for?" Wally said pointing at the rainbow of colors the card cases had.

"Just the emotions associated with the experiences. Orange is comedy, red is action, pink is romance, and blue is tragedy." Danny listed. "That one with the pink is one of my favorites. I meddled a bit in that world. Two people who had never met fell in love at two points at different times. One of them was doomed to die but I worked my magic on a mirror that allowed them to meet once. They shared notes left in different places for the other months ahead. Makes you believe in true love. A real tear-jerker."

"What about the black stickers?" Wally asked.

"Don't touch the black ones," Danny said darkly, smacking his hand away. "You don't need to know about those. I don't like thinking about them."

"So you just take the memories of others and put them inside your machine to replay later?" Batgirl asked. "Isn't that kind of wrong?"

"No, I asked permission. I usually pull them aside at some point and ask. If it's my memories (that's the green stickers) I don't need to. The rainbow ones are simulations. Like a video games." Danny responded patting her on the back for not being to hard on him about this admittedly weird situation.

"So what's the black one with the rainbow sticker?" Wally asked picking up the case that was obviously stuffed in the back.

"STOP TOUCHING THOSE!" Danny yelled pulling him away.

[dollyfetti]

🍮⠀⠀ notes: popular!bakugou x nerdy!reader, fluffy, college au ‿ ୧ 🍡⠀ word count: 839

everyone's either in love with bakugou or wants to be him. he always has people bombarding him with questions about his quirk or trying to get close to him. he doesnt mind the attention. bakugou carries a large amount of pride that comes along with his popularity. he's worshipped, always walking the halls with people following him.

but then theres you. a silent girl in most of his classes. you keep to yourself in your own little world for the most part with very few close friends. your seat is in front of bakugou in all of your shared lectures, and you never bothered him, not once. truth be told, he never really thought about you until a specific night.

slamming his friend's car door shut, bakugou grumbles, "you idiots." he wasted yet another good night for studying. he threw it away by partying with people he didn't even find interesting. gosh, it's already 10:30. he wouldn't be able to stay awake. but he can't just go to sleep! nono, exams are too close. he needs glue all of the information he can into his brain. kirishima had recommended getting a study buddy-- who the hell would want to actually study with bakugou?? the girls would be distracted by his "huge muscles" and "unique hair" while any guys would be begging to see his quirk in action.

fuck this! katsuki doesn't need anyones help.

that confident thought bubble changes as he walks up the stairs to the dormitories. he remembers that quiet dork in most of his classes.. you seem pretty normal for the most part. a bit of a nerd too, so he wouldn't be worried about you having the wrong shit written down. with an ashamed grunt, he decides to find your dorm.

you munch on freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, going over notes you'd gotten from yesterday's lecture. you tiredly lean back against your chair in a tiny tank top and shorts with your hair up in a claw clip. you're slightly bopping your head to the quiet music playing in the background when you hear heavy thuds of someone walking towards your room. you perk up when said person knocks on your door softly. you happily smile, thinking maybe one of your friends are stopping by. excited you made so many cookies, you hurry to the door and swing it open.

with his hands dug into his pockets and drained frown, the katsuki bakugou stands at your door.. odd. "oh!" you squealed, your hand covering your mouth. "sorry, just-- wasn't expecting you." you nervously rub your arm, leaning against the door frame.

he lazily raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "you expectin' someone?"

you shake your head. "nope.." you mutter with an awkward smile. bakugou eyes you up and down quickly, quietly clearing his throat at the small amount of clothing adorning your body. you bite your lip embarrassedly while averting your gaze. "you wanna come in?" you chirp, stepping to the side. he lets out a soft hum of confirmation, taking big strides into your dorm before you shut the door behind him. he walks over to your desk to observe your neatly written notes. "i need someone to study with-- you aren't stupid or anythin' right?" he cocks a brow, turning his head to look at you.

you hum lightly. "mm no, i dont think so.."

the scruffy boy plops down in your heart-shaped chair, flipping through the pages you had spent such precious time working on. you fiddle with your fingers shyly, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch bakugou. "..do you want a cookie?" you politely ask, pointing towards the plate on your desk, walking towards him. his head turned to where your finger was pointing.

his eyes flicker to the plate, hesitantly taking a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie and biting into it. it was soft and chewy-- and warm. his crimson eyes brighten a little, just a little. "'s not bad. would be better with coffee." he stares at the bitten cookie, cupping his other under the treat, careful not to make a mess. your bubbly self returns, offering a sweet smile. "coffee coming up!"

that day was the first of many of you and katsuki spending time together. you were never around people too often, yet alone someone as popular and liked as bakugou. and as for him, he thought you were decently likeable. you made him feel good about himself without talking about his quirk or giant pecs. you also never asked if he had a girlfriend or if he was free next friday night. you were just you.

you had talked more than he anticipated. that night, bakugou found himself quiet while you blabbed about whatever came into your head, and he didn't mind it at all. even after that study session and hanging out numerous times, you're still that one quiet nerd in the classroom. only he gets to see the chatty side of you-- and he likes that. makes him feel special.

[buckiverse]

☆ warnings: mdni, this is literally just a description of how caleb, zayne, and sylus jerk off and if they watch porn

☆ a/n: I have officially decided all the boys are virgins, so i feel it's only right to write about them yearning for you but also being overcome with guilt <3

☆ Caleb

Caleb has spent so long secretly admiring you, adoring you. All he wants is for you to like him the same—but Caleb is patient. Caleb understands long-suffering and is willing to wait for you. He won’t force you to come to him. You have to want it—this, as he does. With this being said, for a long time, he will not watch porn. He’ll feel bad like he’s betraying you—like you’ll know he lusted after another person. 

When you both go to college, he’d spend more time away from you for the first time, and he wouldn’t even dare to think about letting another woman touch him. He’d even have you act as a liaison, discouraging others from approaching him romantically. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t heard stories of what his friends were doing in bed, the fantasies they were living out—now he was curious. 

He’s not a boy anymore, and this is different—it’s educational, he’d tell himself. When the video loaded, a woman, blindfolded, a vibrator pressed between her folds. Teasing her clit gently. The blush spread on his face furiously as he felt himself getting hard. He watched as she writhed against the toy, but not daring to close her legs as her partner commanded. He could feel the heat spreading across his neck—taking mental notes. He would love to do this to you.

Though he had no experience, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t make love to you so good you’d never want to leave. He’d read books and look at fanart, especially of things you like. If you tell him about the latest manhwa you’re reading, best believe he's going to study that shit like no other. You read romance? Well, now he does, too. 

He might even have a whole notepad. Seeing what works, what he likes, what he thinks you might like. He knows you well enough to guess, though he’d definitely ask you directly. 

But when Caleb touches himself, he’d do it with a stolen pair of panties. Sometimes, the washer would eat your socks, underwear, and towels, which was nothing new.

Now, speaking of guilt, he knows this is horrible for him, but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself. But when Caleb saw the pair, unwashed and forgotten in the washer, he couldn’t help but pick them up and stuff them in his pocket. Now he closes his eyes, stroking himself slowly, the underwear in his mouth to muffle the noises from his lips, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. He decided this would do. Using little pieces of you to get himself off. 

He would think of the times before college when he could hear your muffled moans and breaths coming from your room late at night and secretly press his head against your shared wall, trying to listen to you better. He couldn’t wait to use his newfound knowledge on you. He’s just eagerly waiting. 

☆ Zayne

Zayne wants to be romantically involved with you. He desires—yearns for it. But he knows that's not the current state of your relationship and will respect the pace at which you want to take things. His busy life keeps him occupied. He almost relies on it to monopolize his attention since he can’t give it all to you. But it doesn’t stop the guilt he feels—watching porn. 

It takes a lot for him actually to touch himself. He won’t do it often. Yet. It would be an actual internal conflict for him. When he finally decided he was going to watch porn, he would make it quick. The cold metal of his phone in his hand, the dark screen reflecting at him, would almost snap Zayne out of it—but he’s currently wrapped up in his lust. Even so, he still feels like he’s being unfaithful to you—the idea of you more accurately. 

He’ll decide only to watch one while allowing the video to load. He’s just desperate to get off at the moment. It’s almost painful, the way his cock is straining against his slacks. Lately, waiting or sleeping it off hasn’t been working. He’d been so pent up that Zayne stayed hard the whole drive home, and now he gave in. 

It's a short video, but fuck it was hot. The woman squirmed underneath her partner. And Zayne’s pupils blew wide when he saw him suck on her clit, and he could hear the *pop* of his lips detaching from her folds. The groan that fell from her lips when he pushed his tongue inside her—how his arms kept her legs pinned down, though her hips bucked upwards. 

He wanted to do that to you badly. So bad that he closed his eyes, his head thrown back, his lips parted as he leaned back in the chair, jerking himself fast. He had to have you—he couldn’t take it anymore. And he came so fucking hard, and when he finally opened his eyes, he saw the come all over his slacks.

But the guilt was quickly spreading through his chest. It almost feels like he has desires towards the people in the video, but honestly, all he wants is you. He’s never even touched another woman—but still, he felt mortified at the idea that you’d look at him and know what he was doing late at night, imagining it was you there.  

He would never touch another woman. You are all he has wanted since he was a child. Even back then, he only wanted to be connected to you, keeping other girls at a distance even into his adulthood. But maybe now that was catching up to him.

☆ Sylus

Sylus is patient—but only with you. He’d been frustrated for a while. Between your apparent hatred of him and the chaos in the N109 zone, it was slowly eating away at him. Still, no matter how adamant you were about holding your grudge, he’d never be angry with you. Disappointed? Maybe. But never angry.

He loved the game you were playing but wanted—needed—more of you. You were bonded to him, whether you realized it or not. Fated. And the longer you pretended to hate him, the more amused he became. Sylus knew your walls were crumbling, piece by piece.

Like the patient man he is, he waited. Even as you kept those walls standing, even as you unknowingly softened him in ways he never expected—he never sought out distractions. He wouldn’t watch porn. He didn’t need to. First of all, he was busy. Running a city, being a crime boss. You know, important stuff.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t come home late at night, exhausted, missing you. That he didn’t lie in bed on his stomach, the ache of longing settling deep. He might even pull a pillow beneath him, letting it fill the empty space—imagining it was you.

He’d press his weight into it, wishing it were your body beneath him instead. His breath would hitch, a flush burning its way across his cheeks as he rutted against it, slow at first, then more desperate. His fingers would twist into the sheets, knuckles white, your name slipping past his lips like a prayer.

He just felt so desperate. The need for you—your touch, your claim—clawed at his chest, leaving him raw. And when he finally came, hips stuttering in one last, shaky grind, a tear would slip from the corner of his eye.

Sylus doesn’t cry often—if at all. But the thought of you never choosing him? That breaks him.

[remmicksmuse]

INTRODUCING SHY!POGUE!READER…

shy!reader who met rafe on her 9-5 shift at the local café. she almost flinched when she heard him in storming in, yelling at someone on the phone, ‘whenever i see you, you better have my fucking money!’ and shoves his phone in his pocket. he tries to calm down once he sees your shaken expression, “m’sorry about the yelling and shit, could you make a coffee or somethin’ that’ll keep me up?”he murmurs like he was embarrassed & trying to make sure she forgot his rude entrance. she nods and decides to make him a vanilla bean frappe, nothing too much since it’s 4:47 PM. “hey how much will that be?” he mumbles while taking out his wallet. “oh it’s ok, it’s on the house” she says sweetly. rafe smirks at her and takes his coffee, “thanks, i’m rafe by the way” he introduced. “i’m y/n”she says replying while cleaning the coffee machine. rafe nods, planning on remembering her, and a week later, she receives a box with 1000$ and a card that says ‘it’s on house- ℛ．𝒞’.

shy!reader likes to stay in and sleep most of the time or study for hours. she hiccups when she gets nervous so she doesn’t talk to many people to save herself the embarrassment. her parents are always working so she has watch her twin little sisters, kristina & maya. she rarely gets to spend time with rafe because she’s always at work to support her family and this annoys rafe that she won’t just ask for help. she love baking all the time for her sisters and sometimes brings rafe desserts when she feels like he’s had a rough week.

shy!reader only goes to parties when she with rafe. she sticks with rafe most of the time or goes to some random room where nobody goes & waits until rafe is ready to go. if she really doesn’t feel comfortable being there, rafe will take her home and stays with her the rest of the night to make sure she feels safe. rafe sometimes makes her late to her early shifts because he’s either on top of her & won’t let her leave the bed or he fucked her dumb the night before & is too weak to move.

WRITINGS

─ rafe being protective of shy!pogue!reader

─ shy!pogue!reader! finally lets rafe taste her

[baby-yongbok]

One Last Time

Ex-husband!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Soon to be exes to lovers [18+ MDNI] ✦ Summary: Petty claims of possession lead to one last night of pleasure.

✦ CW: Choking/ light breath play, pussy spanking [for a second], Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people], Size Kink [for a second], Oral (f rec.), Chan is... aggressive(??), Chan is referred to as Chris, He calls you a bitch once. only once. ✦A/N: Bang Chan made me do it. There's barely any plot in sight. I wrote this in 4 hrs in the middle of the night. Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

It’s funny how things change. Day turns to night, hot to cold and love to pure seething hatred. 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you swear that that’s all you can feel swarming in your chest as you sit across from your soon to be ex-husband. 

He made a show of things at the settlement meeting this afternoon. He pushed back on every negotiation you made which has led you to where you are now. Each of you on your side of the bed with a pile of stuff littering the Egyptian cotton sheets that he just has to take with him. 

“There. Are you happy now?” You throw the last item on top of his pile and Chris stares down at the item with that damned smirk that you used to love. “Almost.”

He stands from the mattress, dark eyes on something behind you. He grabs it before you can turn. “I bought you this purse.”

The muffled thud of his hard bottom shoes against the carpet is all that you hear before he turns the black designer bag upside down. The contents clatter against his shoes, items rolling in different directions as you watch with a clenched jaw. 

He’s circling back to his side of the bed as you call upon the might of the gods to keep yourself calm. After being married for five years Chris has learned each and every one of your buttons and how hard he needs to press them just to tick you off. 

You’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction of making a scene. That’ll only feed his ego. Besides, he has buttons of his own, some that you installed yourself.

“Now I’m happy.” He drops the bag into his pile, smiling before you like he’d just gotten away with a million bucks. “Yeah?” 

Two can play that game. “I bought you that suit.” The smirk on blushed lips transfers to your painted ones as you stare over at him with arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’d like it back.” With an innocent bat of your lashes Chris smiles. It’s gone just as fast as it came and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He's pissed. 

“You’re fucking serious?” You hold your hand out to him. “Dead serious.”

Dark eyes are staring into darker ones as he holds your gaze. You’ve gotten used to him challenging you. You’ve gotten used to him being a petty asshole and you’ve learned how to play him at his own game. 

You watch as he pops the button of his suit jacket. Tongue in cheek while his fingers work to free him of the fabric. His eyes stay on yours as he peels the smoky threads from his shoulders. He shimmy’s it down thick arms, pulling at the cuffs until he’s free of it. He’s left in a skimpy t-shirt before you and you take the liberty of letting your eyes wander. 

“Want the pants too?” Chris throws the jacket over into your pile before his hands start to fiddle with the metal of his buckle. “Keep ‘em. They’re the nicest thing you own now.” 

He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his hand comes up to rake through his hair as his eyes wander the space you used to share. His gaze stops at your vanity, busy eyes study your open jewelry box then look back to you. 

“I gave you those earrings.” He stalks towards the table, snatching the gold studs off of the surface and slipping them into his pocket. “And..” 

The muffled thud of his shoes is all you can hear over the thick tension pulsing around you. It’s all that you can hear over your own enraged heartbeat. “This necklace.” The clasp is snapped from around your neck before you can breathe a protest. You gasp at the sudden pressure of your chain being ripped from you. 

“What the fuck.” That smirk is stolen  back when he slips the jewelry into his pocket. He stands in front of you, barely an inch between you as your chests rise and fall in unison. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” He fakes a pout, blinking over at you. “I didn’t do anything” 

“Whatever, you got your stuff, get out.” You’re hissing at him, heart racing and blood bubbling with the annoyance you’ve been harboring for the length of this insufferable process. “I’m done with you.”

“Not so fast.” he says slowly, his hands finding your waist before you can step around him. You attempt to shrug off his grip and fail. “I bought you that too.” 

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. His tongue darts out to lick over his own as he stares. “That lipstick.” His eyes find yours again.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s a bite to your tone that makes him smile. He’s always loved a challenge. 

“I bought it.” He pulls you into him by your waist. Your body is flush with his and one of his hands quickly abandon the plush flesh to wrap around your neck. “ I wan’ it back. I think that’s fair.”

It’s dark on dark as he leans in, eyes searching each others frantically as Chris closes the gap and kisses you gently. It barely makes a sound, it’s feather light and quick. 

“You want it back?” You whisper against his lips and he nods. “Then I want the pants.” 

That fucking smirk pulls at his red stained lips and his mouth is on yours in an instant. It’s hot and messy, drowning out the previous softness. You grab at his arms, clawing down the flesh while his fingers dig into your hips. 

He licks into your mouth with a desperate groan as you turn your heads left and right, his tongue explores your mouth as he takes in the taste of you one last time. Your arms wrap around his neck as one of his hands grab at the swell of your ass.

 “Fuck.” He groans against you, stealing another kiss before you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. “Up.” With a firm smack on your ass you jump up and his hands find purchase on the curve of your bottom over your dress. 

You fall into a mess of tugging and moaning. The tension you once felt in your chest melts into pleasure as his hands wander your bareskin. He drops you onto the mattress, pushing the sorted piles out of the way and hovering over you in your ripped dress as you lay sprawled out on the sheets before him. 

“Gonna miss this.” Chris’ mouth is stained cherry red with your lipstick, it’s smeared over your cheeks and it compliments the bruises that he’s sucking into your skin. You bunch his shirt up his back, scratching along the way and leaving your own marks as you please. 

“Shut up, eat my pussy.” You pull him back with a fist full of his hair, he hisses a moan through clenched teeth as his own hand finds it’s way around your throat again. He squeezes this time. It’s just enough to have your eyes flutter shut, just enough to get you right where he wants you. 

“Can’t you be my good girl for one more night? Can’t you stop being a bitch for just a second, baby?” Chris leans down with a tighter squeeze. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the flesh. “Did you already forget who the fuck I am?”

He loosens his grip giving you the satisfaction of that blissful rush before squeezing again. “Do you see how small you are?” He whispers, placing a kiss by your ear. “Do you feel how strong I am, baby? Don’t you know how this goes?”

A moan is all he gets as he pulls back to admire you. Your pretty mouth is parted with a silent moan as your thighs press together in a desperate attempt at cumming. “I should make you suck my cock.” His knee wedges between your legs and presses hard against your core. 

“I should fuck this pretty throat. I should get you back for being such a fucking brat through all of this.” The hand that was around his wrist scratches up his arm as he lets up again, letting the blood rush and giving you the dizzy feeling he knows you love. “I should -”

Your fingers wrap around his neck before he can finish his thought. Fierce eyes stare up into his as your other hand moves to unbutton his pants. “Just gimme what’s mine.”

Your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear as you pull him closer to you. “Wan’ my cock?” He moans at the soft feeling of your fingers wrapping around the tip. Eye’s fluttering shut as he attempts to take a breath against your grip.

 “‘S mine.” You lean up to his ear. “Isn’t it daddy?”

It was quick when he pinned you against the mattress. Both of your wrists were in his grip before he shifted them both to one hand to free his cock for you. “You’re a fucking tease. You’re so fucking predicatable, you know that?” He’s hissing as he fights with the fabric of his pants and your dress. 

“You want a reaction outta me, huh? Wanna rile me up, sweetheart?” With a shift of hands and a grunt he’s turning the two of you over. You follow him with a gasp, straddling his waist and sitting over his cock with your clothed cunt. “C’mon I’ll let you. Use me, get what you want.”

Your resolve sinks as his cock twitches against your core. Chris is lying beneath you looking like a sin personified and you feel compelled to indulge in his offer. He is still your husband after all. 

Your panties are pushed to the side in an instant. Chris’ wrists are pinned over his head while you grind your cunt over him. Sloppy sounds of you working over his leaking cock swirl in the hot air and Chris watches it all with drooping lids as you work against him. “Put it in, lemme watch it.”

You ignore him, slowing your grind to counter his request. “C’mon, baby, lemme feel you. I can make you feel so good. Let daddy fuck you, c’mon.” He watches you, head reeled back and moans dripping from your lips like drool as you  do as you please. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He breaks free from your hold, hands wrapping around your waist and guiding the grind of your hips just as your clit catches on the head of his cock. “I asked nicely.” 

His cock catches at your entrance as he controls you. The push of him against your pussy has your mouth open in a silent scream as he bullies his cock into you. “You keep forgetting who I am, hm?” He sits up, landing a firm smack to your ass to match his brutal thrust as you settle in his lap.

“Chris, shit, just fuck me. Fuck me.” Your nails are in his back, drawing lines that could surely draw blood. He hisses at the pain, smiling with a bite of his tongue as he fucks up into you. 

His hips snap into yours, gradually picking up the pace until you’re falling apart against him. Chest to chest, you’re panting into each other. Littering the thick air with profanities as he splits you open on his dick. “Oh my fucking god, Chris. More. More more more, please. C’mon.”

“Take it.” He growls below you, allowing you to push him back against the mattress and ride his cock to your heart's content. “That’s it, take it. It’s yours, all yours.”

Your nails dig into his pecks, leaving marks on the flawless skin and you use him for leverage. The loud smack of skin against skin decorates the air accompanied by your moans.

 “Don’t hold back, baby. Enjoy that fucking ride.” He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway. “Let loose, just like that.”.

Chris is rambling under you, mumbling under his breath and growling praises when he fucks deep into you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me harder. Wan’ it harder.” It’s dark on dark again. Hooded eyes stare into each other void of rage, the only priority is pleasure. You’re only here to take advantage. 

“Wan’ me harder?” He fucks into you, moaning at the squeeze you give. “Wan’ me deeper?”

With a lift of his hips Chris flips you over. “Be good for me, yeah? One last time, be a good fucking girl and lay on your back for me. Lemme eat this pretty pussy.” He rips your dress down your frame with a grunt. Your panties get the same treatment before he’s falling to his knees before you. 

“Gonna miss you on your knees.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring down at him behind a fucked out haze. “Lookin’ so pretty for me with a mouth full of my cunt.”

With a smirk Chris licks a wet stripe from your hole to your clit. He swirls his tongue around the bud, sucking it between red stained lips and flicking it. Your head drops back against the mattress with a loud moan. Your hands comb through and grab at his damp dark locks but he quickly repositions you to hold yourself open for him. 

“Watch me eat it.” He reaches up, brushing your chin with his fingertips. He lays a flat wet lick to your pussy, hooded eyes staring up into yours. “Eyes on me. Eyes on daddy.”

He spreads your cunt with his fingers, holding you open for him while he spits down onto your clit. He collects it all on his tongue, licking it over the nub before spitting it back. Sloppy slurps against a drooling pussy is all that fills the room. “Daddy, please, wanna cum on your cock.”

He pulls back with a pop, spitting back down onto your cunt. He watches it drip down to your hole, following the stream with his fingers to press it into you. 

“You wan’ me deep right?” His middle and pointer fuck you open as he coos. “Want me to spread this tiny cunt on my dick?” You’re moaning. Panting confirmations and whining pathetically into the air. 

“Then hold it.” He kisses your clit, sucking it in then releasing. “Don’t cum.”

“Please.” You moan a plea, unraveling little by little with each suck and flick of your clit. His fingers fuck you open, curling into your soft spot and pushing you further towards the edge that you’re trying to avoid. 

You could just cum. You could just take what he’s giving you instead of following the rules but it’s so good like this. He’s so good like this. You miss him giving you what you want.

“Chris, ‘m gonna cum for you. I can’t. Please jus’ gimme.” He blinks up at you with pussy drunk eyes as his kiss bitten lips move against you despite your begging. “Daddy, please. I wan’ your cock.”

"Don't cum for me yet" he speaks against your cunt before licking a wet kiss up to your clit. 

"I can't, Chris. I can't, I can't, I'm gonna cum." Your eyes are glued to the way he licks up and down your swollen pussy. Taunting you with the skill he's gained over the years. He's pushing your buttons again.  

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please you have to let me. You’re gonna make me cum. Your mouth, your fucking mouth, please let me cum."

You're babbling, you know you are. You’re slipping through the cracks quickly and you can’t do a thing to stop it. There’s no going back and Chris knows it but he still smacks the inside of your thigh. Warning you to be good for him and let him build you up a bit more before you take his cock again.

"Don't." He kisses your clit. "Cum." He sucks the bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it with a moan. He's a madman if he thinks you could survive that. 

"Fuck, 'm cumming. I'm cumming, 'm sorry." You’re shaking, your nails dig into your thighs as you keep yourself open for him.  "Cumming, 'm cumming, I can't stop cumming, I can't stop cumming."

He moans into you as he laps up every drop of arousal that you're giving him. He commits your sweet taste to memory with one final swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing up your stomach. 

His lips trail up the valley of your breasts. He licks over the mound, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling it with a hum. Once he’s satisfied he moves to your shoulder, kissing and licking his way over to your collarbone then finally his lips are back on yours.

You’re gasping as you tremble through your orgasm, aftershocks wash over you as you taste yourself on his tongue. Chris smirks, whispering against your lips. "No one else will make you feel this good, baby. No one else will make you cum like this.”

The head of his cock slips through your dripping folds, catching against your clit before he’s pushing in. “This is mine. All mine." He sinks in to the hilt then slowly drags his cock back against your walls. 

“This is what I want.” He straightens up, looking down at your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“All of that other shit doesn’t matter.” He moans, holding your thighs back to get a perfect view of you.  “I wanna watch it. Wanna see the way my pussy opens up for me. ‘S mine, isn’t it, baby? Tell me this shit is mine.”

“Yours, it’s yours. Fuck, ‘s fucking yours, please, you’re gonna make me cum.” Chris slows his strokes, grinding deep into you and dipping his hips to hit the soft spot that turns you into putty for him.

You’re drooling at the feeling. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of tired eyes as you watch the way he admires your cunt. The corner of his bottom lip is tugged and held firm between his teeth as he fights back his moans so that he can hear yours clearer.

“Shit, You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me fucking cum, make daddy cum.” The precise snap of his hips grows sloppy as the seconds pass. His once slow grind is now erratic. He’s purely seeking pleasure, sinking deeper into the haze with every drag. 

“Fuck, squeeze me. Yeah, just like that, that’s my girl. Pretty fucking girl on my cock.” Each thrust is met with a slap to your clit. You jolt at the contact, back arching off of the mattress. “Cum for me. Cum on my dick.” 

With one more flick of your clit you're trembling beneath him. Your cunt sucks him in and he takes it all with a loud moan. Chris lets your legs fall so that he can hover over you. He holds himself up on his elbows as he kisses you through your climax. You moan into it, shaking with each thrust and twitch of his cock. 

“Shit, that’s good. So good, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The frantic bucking of his hips against yours comes to a halt as he falls apart. 

Moans tumble forward as he does. His muscles tense and his eyes roll back as he drives himself deep into you, filling you with every drop of himself that he has to offer. Chris collapses on top of you, his weight pinning you in place. 

You pant below him, coming down from your high as aftershocks wash over him. He kisses your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. 

“Now.” He pulls back slightly, gaze catching yours. “Now I’m happy.”

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[blood-smiles]

𝐈’𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐅! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 . MDNI . gore . blood brought up very often. sexual assault attempt towards reader (not by yandere) . wounds

જ⁀➴ Your legs burned, limbs clearly unprepared as you sprinted out into the field like a wild gazelle. You hadn’t even begun to work, all you could feel was the sting in your chest, your heart brimming with adrenaline.

Your heart thundered in your ears, you could feel the vibrations of the organ in the right of your chest. Sweat dribbled down your back, mixing with the rain sprinkling from above, bullets zipped past your form just narrowly missing you by a silk thread.

You didn’t know where you were running to, you just were. You were quick and lithe, not a single bullet or stray piece of debris grazed you.

You slid to a stop, the muddy ground underneath your combat boots squelching under your weight. A man, clearly a soldier, judging by his camo uniform and badge, clutched his side while crying out in pain, he kicked his feet on the ground in a way to try and release some of the pain.

He got mud and rainwater all over you but that wasn’t important, you had to help this man, somehow. You studied his wound with the focus of a scholar, features taut with anxiety and the slightest hint of foreboding.

This was the hardest part of your job. Not the blood and bodily fluids, not the close monitoring of wounds, not the procedure but this— Knowing that the decision of letting this man live was in your hands, that a single mistake could send this man to his early grave.

You applied pressure with a cloth you had in tucked in your cargo pockets, your palm firmly pressing against the gaping hole in his side. 

You watched how the once white fabric turned a murky scarlet color, warmth seeped underneath your palm and soaked your hands.

“Don’t worry. You’re safe, you’re going to be okay.” You reassured the injured fellow, making sure to keep a calm, even tone of voice. 

You seemed sure and collected on the outside, like you had everything coldly calculated, almost as if you had already saved this man.

But the truth was far from it. You were a nervous wreck inside, tears pricked your vision, your throat burned and closed in with the need to weep for this man. Your knees were shaking even though you weren’t the one in pain, you allowed him to softly place his hand on your forearm.

“Please stay awake, I need you to stay awake.” You implored, your mind working like a tiny machine, an encyclopedia of methods and practices you had done in the past opening inside your brain.

You carefully planned your next action, his hand tightened on your arm, his dirty nails digging into your skin as he gave a weak cry, you pinched your eyebrows together in deep confusion.

“Sir. Sir? What’s happening?” You asked frantically, finally, panic seeping into your tone. He mouthed something, his whole body shuddering as he tried to muster the last of his strength to point at something behind you.

You read his bloody lips.

‘BEHIND YOU.’

You didn’t even have time to blink, because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak to the soldier, he was already dead.

BANG!

A bullet was planted between his brows, from

how loud the gun sounded it was like someone had shot him almost face to face.

Warm blood sprayed across your face, someone was behind you. Someone was behind you. Someone was behind you.

You breathed in, but you couldn’t move. There was nowhere to go anymore. You were stuck between the sword and the wall. Cornered like a lamb at the mercy of a vicious wolf.

The tears you had been battling against drained out your eyes, and as soon as the first salty droplet could hit the ground a boisterous sound filled your ears.

Before you could formulate your last words pain ripped through you endlessly, with no warning or hesitation. It shot you in the side, you could feel the foreign capsule burying itself in your guts.

The metal felt hot, god. It felt so hot. It felt like you were forced to touch boiling iron, but you weren’t allowed to pull away. There was nowhere way to escape the scalding heat of the bullet because it was inside you.

You had never screamed so loudly in your life, you hit the ground with an ear splitting wail, you curled in on yourself next to the deceased soldier. 

 IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts IthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurtsIthurts

You let out a choked sob, something between a cry of pain and a scream. 

A grand man chuckled at your pain, you could see the vague outline of his body out of the corner of your eye. He was large, built like a ravenous wolf, his teeth were bared, sharp and crooked like daggers as he bent down beside you.

His cold hands took a careless grip on your ankles, a new feeling arose, fear. Raw, primal fear. 

His grip was so tight and hurtful that he might have shattered your bones without even noticing— But it wasn’t like he even cared.

What was he going to do to you? You screamed and kicked in desperation, his hands creeped higher up to your knees.

Were you going to die like this? Why? What did you do wrong? You did everything they told you to.

Why me? Why me? Why me? Why me?

Tears didn’t stop, the dam behind your eyes broke. The walls of the well had ruptured, it held years upon years of hate and suffering, and now that it had burst a tidal wave, one with the height of a tsunami had left nothing in its wake.

Your throat felt stuffed with rocks, your vocal cords strained inside you, clawing at the ground, soil settling underneath your nails.

You had tried to fight, you really did but blood was starting to settle in a pool underneath you. Your hair had chunks of dirt and blood, your skin had small cuts and was debauched by debris and flesh that wasn’t yours.

The clouds had parted, a single beam of light pushing through the skies and falling on the burly figure of a soldier with hair as golden as the sun.

Was that an angel? Was he here for you?

Peace at last, why did you feel peace? As soon as you caught a glimpse of those cold, steel blue eyes you felt.. free.

The fight inside had left you.

Like you could rest, maybe it was the blood loss getting to you. The ground underneath suddenly felt warm and comfortable, like the dreamiest of beds, the ones filled with swan feathers that only royals had the luxury of using.

Your eyes fluttered closed, a soft exhale leaving your lips. Blood and rainwater soaked your clothing, you lost consciousness with a small smile.

It was a blessing that you had closed your eyes, because at the least that had protected you from the carnage and absolute inhumane cruelty that would exhibited in front of your unconscious body.

The so called angel was no divine being, but the infamous lieutenant who had his sights set on you, perhaps too closely.

He didn’t hesitate to take the other man from his throat, his thick fingers wrapped around the rugged man’s neck, his nails dug into the thick muscles like the teeth of a bear trap.

The separation of meat from muscle was quick and brutal, Marcelle’s hand ripped the man’s throat out like tearing fat from a chicken leg. It was a disgusting show of force and power, and it was all done for some girl.

Marcelle’s chest heaved, pure rage ran through his veins like adrenaline, his nose was scrunched up like a rabid bear’s would. Someone had hurt you, the light to his darkness, the moon among so many stars.

They tried to tear you from his arms, tried to take advantage of your weak build and gentle heart.

Hate wasn’t an adequate word for what he really felt, it was an understatement of what was going through his twisted head.

The wolf-like man’s larynx dropped on the floor with a wet splat, blood rushed out of the exposed maw that once used to be his throat.

Marcelle was nowhere done with him though. 

A tactical knife strapped on his thigh was dislodged, then driven into the wolf’s stomach, the blonde pressed the blade so tight against his flesh that the peritoneum had been torn apart like a bag of candy on the hallow’s eve.

Guts spilled everywhere, slimy sausage shaped innards were the first to go, unfurling from his stomach like climbing rope.

Everything dropped down at his feet, contaminated filth mixed with blood and mud. Marcelle scoffed at how easy it was to kill this one, it wasn’t a big show of strength to pull this guy apart like tender teriyaki.

The mangled one lost his balance, falling onto his knees while choking on carmine, it sprayed everywhere along with chunks of meat, or what was left of it.

The blonde bear grabbed the disfigured man by his hair, then pressed a dirty boot onto the small of his back. He yanked with vigor at the other’s scalp while maintaining hard pressure on his back.

Then a sick crack came from the crumpled’s spine, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, swollen with blood and severed capillaries.

His spine had been severed in two, cleanly snapped like a toothpick.

The man bent backwards in the fashion of an arc, the cadaver looked like it was doing gymnastics, but really his body was so greatly damaged that his spine couldn’t maintain his weight, he was bent at such an unnatural extent it hurt just by looking at  him.

Marcelle kicked away the body and its innards, sending what was of a man into a puddle, leaving his organs and blood to mingle with the water.

He saw you, curled up like a kitten. But blood streamed out your side like a river, it wouldn’t stop, he panicked.

He dropped beside you, picking you up with the gentleness of what could only be compared to picking up an injured baby bird. He touched your face with the delicate touch of a feather, your face was dirty, streaked with dirt and crimson. 

He pressed his ear against your chest, the soft thump of your heart whispering that you had limited time.

His breath caught in his throat.

He was taught to never cry. That a man should never cry in the presence of anyone, but in this moment, this miserable and unfortunate situation he could do no less than weep.

All he could see was the tiny smile on your lips, your precious visage ruined by destruction of war. You didn’t stop bleeding, you can’t stop. His eyes watered, for the first time in decades he allowed himself to shed a tear.

“No.. No— You can’t.. You won’t leave me!” He yelled to your unconscious form, his dirtied hand grasping your limp one. He squeezed tightly, hoping that if he gripped hard enough you would react, that those pretty (e/c) eyes would look up at him one last time.

His distress was heard, a group of young soldiers trotted over to him, finding their great lieutenant distraught over the soon to be corpse of a nurse.

He hugged the body close to his chest, trying to share warmth to the wounded girl, his chin rested over her head, his thick fingers smoothing over her filthy hair, they weren’t sure if he was trying to soothe the injured woman or himself.

They came up to him, touching his shoulder and trying to reach the nurse in his arms. He didn’t take well to that.

He snapped at them, snarling like a furious bear protecting his young. He clawed at them, finding a discarded gun somewhere, it shook in his hands as he aimed at them. His finger looped into the trigger, only to hear a click.

Blank.

Blank.

Blank.

The gun was empty of bullets, so he took the next alternative, the only thing he knew to do, fight with his fists.

There was no one that could go up against him, they knew that Marcelle could divorce their head from their shoulders clean.

“You are not going to take her.” He rasped, putting himself between you and the men. Now they all looked like enemies, like big red training targets with white swirls. 

The cadets glanced at each other, just barely noticing the lifeless bodies surrounding the blonde and the wounded girl in his arms.

“Holy shit..” one of them murmured as he looked around, Marcelle had gone berserk, especially on this man at his feet, completely disemboweled— Where was his throat? 

He stared at the human remains on the floor, feeling the urge to vomit his stomach out right here and there.

A new voice pushed through, the head nurse shouldered men away as she jogged towards the pair of bloodied lovers.

“Look. I don’t care who you are or what your rank is—“ she began, walking towards Marcelle with no fear whatsoever.

“But that girl is going to die if you keep hoarding her like an aggressive mutt!” She yelled, beads of sweat collecting on her brow, she plowed through the mud and dirt just to make it to you.

Marcelle stared at her with a vacant look in his eyes, he didn’t have it in him to touch a woman with intent of harm.

His grip tightened as she approached, water dripped now his face, sweat and rain soaked his uniform. He wasn’t about to let her tug you away, over his dead body.

She tried to pull you away, her hands gripping your forearms as hard as she could but Marcelle’s hold was unrelenting and soon she would have to call herself defeated in the strength game.

“Fine. You can carry her.” She said with an edge to her voice, she took the collar of her uniform in her hands and pulled him up how a dog would pick up a puppy by its scruff.

“But she is going to to live and you are going to take her back now.” She demanded it like his first drill sergeant, he listened to that one order, he slowly ascended from the ground and followed the nurse.

He stared at your face the whole way he walked, his finger curved gently, his pad brushing away your hair behind your ear.

You’re going to be okay, you’re going to live.

His jaw tensed as a new wave of emotions ran over him, he couldn’t break down, not yet. He had to be strong for you.

He gently pressed his forehead against yours, his palm gently residing over your chest, feeling the soft thump of your heart under his hand.

He didn’t remember clearly when but he got ushered out of a room, he woke up in a sterile area surrounded by other people in what seemed to be a waiting room.

He vaguely recalled that he had to be restrained by four men, he got stabbed with a tranquilizer and that’s when everything went dark.

Where were you? His heart picked up in his chest, what had happened? Were you alive?

With a sudden movement he got up from his seat, a clipboard fell from his lap onto the ground. It held only a blank paper, with a single room number in it written in blue ink.

Marcelle had never ran faster in his life, he didn’t know or care how many people he knocked down as he sprinted through the halls. Nurses and doctors turned their heads at breakneck speeds as he zipped past them like a wild animal.

He opened your room door with a bang, sweat gathered on his forehead and his body burned, there you rested.

You, covered in bandages, body clean of dirt and blood, your hair looking soft like nothing had ever touched it. Soft morning light entered through the window, you glowed under the sun like a white dove.

You were hooked up to a monitor, constant beeping telling him you were still alive, it seemed you were breathing on your own, judging by the way your chest slowly rose and fell.

He was filthy with grime and sweat, he could never touch you, afraid he would taint you he stood back. He wanted nothing more than to touch your face, to see your smile again.

It wasn’t long until he was unceremoniously kicked out your room by your main caregiver. 

Marcelle came back the day after, and the day after and the days following that. He kneeled beside your bed like a puppy nudging his owner’s hand with its muzzle.

His hand gently held yours, he placed it over his head, on his cheek, just to feel your touch again. Just to feel the way your fingers would run through his hair again, to feel your fingers curing his wounds again.

He weeped more in that hospital than he had cried in his whole life. He was sure that he would drown in his own tears if he kept it up, he missed you so much, he wouldn’t leave your side for a moment.

There were times he would refuse to leave your room at all, security was forced to tranquilize him and at one point threatened to place a restraining order if he didn’t abide by their rules.

Then that day came, he sat by your bed, holding your hand to his heart, praying to whatever was up there to bring his baby back to him. 

He had never been a faithful man, but if that’s what it took to make you wake up, he would pray all day, everyday no matter the hour or situation.

The slightest twitch from your fingers made him jump, a glimmer in his grey eyes showed that he had hope. He stared at your hand, waiting for that little movement to come back.

Your eyelids moved, your facial muscles twitched, Marcelle stood from his chair abruptly, the furniture scratching the floor and making an unpleasant screech.

You opened your eyes, your beautiful (e/c) hues flitted around the room with confusion, the grogginess of consciousness filling you again.

You looked through your blurry memories, it felt like looking through frosted glass but you remembered a few things, the one that stood out to you most was the blonde angel.

There he was again. 

Why was he crying? You wondered, trying to sit up only to give up when the pain was too unbearable, the man pushed you back down, scolding you and forcing you back into the bed.

You recognized him, your first patient ever. Marcelle.

Just when you were about to speak he basically pounced, he hugged you like you would disappear in that moment. He felt warm and comfortable, you could barely bring your hands to wrap around him.

His shoulders shook with silent sobs, he couldn’t stop crying again, but this time it wasn’t out of sorrow but happiness.

You were back. You were alive and in his arms.

He pulled away, looking you in the face as if this was all a dream, he touched your every feature, trying to re assure himself that this was no fantasy.

“I love you.” Were the first words he said when you woke up, that might have sent you to another coma in that moment.

The blood from your wound had rushed up to your cheeks, you searched his face for any trace of a joke but then remembered.

Marcelle doesn’t do jokes.

He kissed your hand softly, tears still streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t kiss you yet, you were healing and could catch sicknesses especially quickly.

So he would wait, wait until you were ready.

“I think.. I love you too.” You shyly smiled, fingers trembling with embarrassment.

To Marcelle, waiting would prove to be more difficult than he thought.

[lordprettyflackotara]

vixen || the proxies

‘lust and drugs, no intuition’

sum: after succeeding in a particularly hard mission, The Operator decides to gift the proxies something they need more than anything else: a stress reliever

tw: filth. pure filthy smut. minors dni. FOURSOME. double penetration, drug usage (don’t do drugs), prostitute!reader, mask play, lowkey humiliation if you squint, throat fucking, overstimulation on the low

a/n: this shit was sooo fun to write. happy 3k!!!

“This was a stupid ass idea.”

Hoodie grumbled, slouching dramatically in his seat. Masky’s side eye was cold, his eyes narrowing under his mask. “How often do we get rewards from The Operator? Besides, do you have a better idea on how to spend it?” Masky asked bitterly. Hoodie rolled his eyes, propping his head on his hand. It would be any moment you were scheduled to arrive, the stale scent of the hotel room making Hoodie cringe.

It wasn’t often The Operator gave his proxies some free time, nevertheless offered a reward for good behavior. Recently the three of them, Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, had somehow won The Operator over just enough for him to grant them some stress relief. “Kate had a better idea, she was smart enough to ask for a steak,” Hoodie grumbled unhappily. It wasn’t that he was unhappy with the prospect of fucking whatever girl waltzed through the door. More so that he had to stay around Masky and Toby to experience it. He and Masky were constantly at each other’s throats, while Toby just annoyed him to shreds. His patience was wearing more thin by the day.

“Kate is also borderline feral and rarely speaks comprehensive words,” Masky argued. While he was trying to keep his cool, his own nerves were becoming evident as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Where were you? “How m-many did boss get us?” Toby chimed in. He had been quiet up until now, Hoodies suspicious that it was due to his obvious inexperience with women. “I’d assume one for each of us, right? He’s swimming in money, it can’t be that expensive to get three,” Hoodie answered. He wondered if they’d fight over who got who. A soft knock at the motel door made the three of them go silent, Masky hesitantly stepping over to the door. He peaked through the peak hole, before unlocking it. To the trio’s surprise you were the only one standing there, your hand clutching your small purse.

“Hi um, i’m looking for the uh-” You paused, reading a crumbled up note you had been clinging onto, “the proxies..?”

Your voice was unsure, Masky giving you an affirmative nod and signaling you to come in. Toby had seen prostitutes many of times, on television at least. But you didn’t look like any of them, the stereotypes all wrong. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding, there were supposed to be three of you,” Masky told you, gently shutting the door behind you. Your eyes nervously dragged to his face, staring at his eerie mask. “Right, about that, well-” You began, clearly nervous. Hoodie couldn’t help but wonder why you were more jittery than they were. “Your boss put on this note that this is a team exercise as much as a reward, the three of you meant to work together with, well, just me,” You explained.

Oh.

Oh.

No wonder you were shaking in your boots. Three masked men eyeing you like prey, whose mouths were borderline salivating at the thought of fucking you. Masky grabbed the note from you, reading it himself. “You have got to be kidding me,” He grumbled, reading the familiar handwriting. In annoyance he dug in his pockets looking for a box of cigarettes. “All three of us? Is he insane? Look at her, we’ll break her,” He said, gesturing to you. True, you were smaller in stature compared to the three men. Toby stood up first, putting his orange goggles on top of his head. He rounded you like a wild animal, soaking in as much of your body as he could with his eyes. “S-She does look a b-b-bit small,” Toby agreed. Hoodie tilted his head to the side as he studied you. He was always interested in watching how people reacted to one another.

To his surprise despite how intimidating he knew the three of them were, he noticed the light tint of pink that had spread across your cheeks. “Actually, your boss offered me the job specifically. Said out of all of my girls and I, i’d be the only one who could handle it,” You admitted. This confession made Hoodie rise from his chair, walking up to you quickly. His gloved hand squeezed your face, forcing you to pucker out your lips like a fish. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation sweetheart. We’re not like the married men you pluck off of the streets. We can seriously hurt you,” He snarled. His ski mask stared down at you ominously, the tension in the room only becoming thicker by the minute.

“Actually, that’s why I accepted the offer,” You countered. Hoodie’s hardened facade cracked for a moment, his hand loosening. “Said you three with rough around the edges, but that you’d indulge in my darkest fantasies,” You confessed, your face turning a darker shade of red. Masky tossed the note aside, taking a step closer to you. “Oh yeah princess? And that’s that?” The brunette asked. Three sets of eyes stared at you intensely, awaiting your next words. “To be fucked ruthlessly by three mysterious men in mask,” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Hoodie couldn’t hide his smirk, his eyes flickering up to his companions. “I think she’s starting to grow on me,” He purred, releasing his grip on your face.

“Before we begin, I also have these,” You say, digging into your purse and pulling out four pills. The boys rounded you in a circle, eyeing them suspiciously. “What’s t-that?” Toby asked. You scratched the back of your neck, as if you weren’t completely sure yourself. “Your boss attached them to the note. Said they’d help us all loosen up a bit,” You explained. Toby was the first to reach for one, popping the tiny pill without a second thought. “Well shit, if the kids doing it,” Hoodie grumbled, following his lead. You met Masky’s gaze, the last two pills sitting in the palm of your hand. “Ladies first, princess,” He said. You had taken ecstasy dozens of times before, but never with clients. You had known of The Operator for years, the girls you worked alongside serving his men on occasion. He had never requested you before though and he had never given his proxies an opportunity like this.

You hard swallowed the pill, cringing as it scraped against the back of your throat. Masky finally took the last pill from your hand, swallowing it as if it meant nothing. “You sure about this sweetheart?” Hoodie purred mockingly, admiring how flustered you already seemed. You shrugged off your trench coat, revealing nothing underneath. Toby’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, soaking in every curve that was exposed. “Knees, princess,” Masky barked, regaining your attention. You did as instructed, your knees scraping against the crusty old carpet. You couldn’t deny the bubbling in your stomach as the three of them surrounded you, undoing their belts in unison. The mixed clinking sounded like heaven to you, your tongue flattening out across your bottom lip.

Toby had taken out his cock first, your mouth gravitating towards him. You licked the bottom of his length from the bottom to his tip, kitten licking his slit. He visibly shuddered, causing you to grin. “You do that too much to the kid he’ll cum right now,” Hoodie snickered. Masky had casually lit a cigarette, tilting his mask up just enough to inhale the stick. “S-Shut up,” Toby argued weakly. Your hands found their way to Masky and Hoodies cocks, Masky more girthy and Hoodie longer. Toby was an even mix of the two, your mouth bobbing up and down on his cock. Your hands jerked the older proxies off, your eyes never straying from Toby’s face. The bottom half of his face was covered with a face mask, but his eyes. Oh, his sweet and delicious eyes stared down at you. You had captivated him, the way you took him to the base.

A rough hand grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking you off of Toby’s twitching cock. “Quit hoggin’ her,” Hoodie snarled. He shoved you onto his cock, your eyes welling up with tears as he hit the back of your throat. You struggled to keep up with his aggression, your jaw going slack as he face fucked you. “Shit, her mascaras running already,” Masky grumbled, inhaling his cigarette sharply. He rutted his hips into your hand, as he exhaled. Your core was aching, your thighs subtly rubbing together to create some form of friction. You could feel the ecstasy taking effect much faster than normal, your ultimate fantasy coming true before your very eyes. Fuck, you owed their boss big time.

Hoodie yanked you off of his cock, a string of saliva attached from his tip to your lips. “Open up your mouth pretty girl, let’s see if you can fit all of us at once,” Masky smirked. He could feel himself letting loose, his gloved hand grabbing your chin. You tried to open your mouth as wide as possible, the three of their cocks competing to shove their way in. “Can’t even suck three cocks? Pathetic. What’re you getting paid for?” Hoodie spat, a sadistic smile hidden by his ski mask. You struggled to breathe as they guided you onto the bed, Masky’s hand grabbing your chin first. “Either these drugs are really good or you’re looking really fuckin pretty princess,” He grumbled. He could feel warmth spreading through out his body, the exhaled cigarette smoke escaping through the sides of his mask. He loomed over you, leaning close towards your ear.

Your body was practically vibrating with anticipation, a chill running down your spine. “Maybe sometime i’ll have you for myself, just you and me,” Masky rambled, talking more than he usually did. A firm set of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, resulting in your back colliding with the mattress. “You’re s-s-supposed to share, remember?” Toby asked, relieved at the sight of your bare breast. He eagerly leaned over, pulling down his mask. His gash was hidden on the over side of his face, his pale gray skin a light shade of pink as he took one of your nipples into his mouth. Your back nearly arched off of the bed, your nipples hardened and more sensitive than normal. “Hey loverboy, since you’re so in love go ahead and make yourself useful and stretch her out for us, will you?” Hoodie asked, tapping the head of his cock on your lips. Your tongue rolled out on instinct, licking the underside of his shaft.

Masky tossed the cigarette aside, using his gloved hands to pry apart your thighs. Your cunt was so wet it was almost dripping down your thighs, a sight so painfully mouth watering it took everything in him to not yank off his mask and dig in. Instead he took a deep breath, his body buzzing with euphoria. “Keep her mouth busy,” He replied. Hoodie smirked at his command, shoving his cock down into your mouth. With confidence you were unable to see him, the brunette slipped off his mask. He used two of his gloved fingers to open your folds, admiring your drenched sex. “Fuck, she’s so fuckin wet for us,” Masky grumbled, before attaching his lips to your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut, the pleasure almost mind numbing as he sucked harshly at your clit. Toby released your nipple, the bud growing only more sensitive from the abandonment of his warm mouth.

Toby reattached his mouth to your other breast, ignoring the feeling of your heart pounding against your rib cage as he sucked. “Feelin good sweetheart?” Hoodie asked mockingly, his ominous stitched frown staring down at you. His cock brutally hit the back of your throat, your moans vibrating his shaft further. Masky’s hands tightened around your thighs, keeping them pried apart as he devoured your cunt. “Awe does that feel good? Having Masky eat that pretty pussy of yours?” Hoodie continued, relishing in the sight of your thighs squeezing his partners head. The warmth spreading across Toby’s chest only made him more feral, his hips involuntarily grinding against the bedding as his teeth grazed your nipple. “This is what you wanted right? Your ultimate fantasy right?” Hoodie continued. His fingers were tangled in your hair, yanking ever so often. He enjoyed watching your body react to his every word, your skin littered with goosebumps.

“You’re trembling already. How are you gonna handle all three of us at once if you can’t handle a little foreplay?” Hoodie continued. He watched you attempt to keep up with his thrust, your mind spinning. Toby released your nipple, attaching his lips to your breast. “Awe you poor thing, the kids gonna litter you in as many marks as possible. Hope you like hickies,” Hoodie continued. You could feel your core tightening, Masky’s tongue relentless as he lapped at your clit. You could feel his tongue poke at your entrance, one of your hands flying down to his hair. Your hips grinded against his face, your breath shuddering as Hoodie pulled out of your mouth. Sinful moans instantly spewed from your lips, bouncing off of the motel room walls. “Sounds like someone’s close to cumming, how cute,” Hoodie grinned. He pulled your hair to continue looking up at him, preventing you from seeing Masky’s exposed face. “Go on sweetheart, cum on his face,” He cooed.

Toby released a patch of your skin with a pop, a shock of electric euphoria crashing down over you. Your back arched off of the bed as you came on Masky’s tongue, his hooded eyes watching your face as you shamelessly came. His gloved hands were harsh, keeping your thighs pried open. He continued to devour you until he was sure you were done, his chin coated in your juices as he emerged from your thighs. “I want her cunt,” Masky said instantly, claiming your pussy for his own. Hoodie grunted as he helped rearrange you, Masky pulling down his mask as he laid underneath you. On all fours you hovered above him, feeling Hoodies gloved hands pull apart your cheeks from behind. “Fine by me, kid you get her mouth,” Hoodie ordered. Toby was slowly jerking off cock, kneeling beside your mouth. “W-Why can’t I get her ass?” He bickered.

You could feel Masky’s hands slide down your hips, causing you to bite your bottom lip to refrain from whimpering. “Because you’re going to nut in five seconds and I plan on fucking her until she can’t walk,” Hoodie argued. You could feel Masky align himself with your entrance, before pushing himself inside. Your velvet walls clung to him instantly, your loud moan interrupting the arguing at hand. You grabbed onto his mustard jacket, feeling him bottom out inside of you. “Fuck princess, you feel so fuckin, warm,” Masky sputtered. He could feel his cheeks flaming red with embarrassment, the ecstasy hitting him far harder than he could’ve imagined. It was like he could hear all of you, your breathing, your heart beat, even the little whimpers that were clawing their way out of your throat.

For a brief moment he swore he could’ve met your gaze, Toby’s thin fingers guiding your face to his cock. You teasingly sucked the tip, feeling Hoodie shove himself inside of you. “We may need to take her home, shit, she didn’t even need any, fuck, prep,” Hoodie groaned, bottoming out as well. Your head was spinning, the taste of Toby’s salty precum dancing on your tastebuds. Your body was electrified with warmth and lust, your vision growing spotty as you felt Masky and Hoodie begin to move. You grabbed handfuls of Masky’s jacket, unable to stop your sinful moans. Even as Toby guided you to suck his cock, your unholy noises were still as loud as ever. Masky grabbed your hips, noting the way tears free flowed down your cheeks. He rammed upwards into you, noticing the way your eyes rolled back into your head.

“That’s it princess, you can take it,” The brunette praised, mesmerized by you. You looked ethereal, falling apart between the three of them like this. Your jaw had gone slack and was growing sore as Toby used your throat as he pleased, satisfied in the gagging he made you produce. Hoodies hips never let up for a moment, his brain on auto pilot as his body rammed into you. Insults swam around his brain, failing to leave his lips as he fucked your unexplored hole. The four of you were too high to play mind games, addicted the feeling you gave one another. You felt caught in the middle, completely cock drunk as three strong pairs of hands kept you upright. “Feels soooo g-g-good, motherfuckin- I can’t,” Toby whined, his hips stuttering. He hadn’t anticipated his orgasm, his body producing one without any warning. His cum flooded your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as you swallowed all that you could. Toby watched, mesmerized as you continued sucking him half hard.

He was twitching in euphoria, his hands fallen by his sides as he soaked in the overstimulation. “Knew the kid was gonna cum first,” Hoodie grumbled, his fingers digging so hard into your skin they promised bruises in their morning to come. Masky felt like he was breathing on manual mode, his breath shallow as he looked at you. “Princess, touch yourself. We’ll hold you up. Cum on our cocks so we can fill you up,” Masky offered, his words much more softer than he meant for them to be. Dazed, you used your spare hand to slither down to your clit, drawing sloppy circles around the sensitive bud. Your body began to tremble, Toby’s cock falling out of your mouth as you dropped your head. Your moans were babbles and curses, your mind completely cock drunk as Masky and Hoodie fucked you at the same time.

“Ha, feel that Masky? She’s about to cum already. Filthy girl,” Hoodie snickered, pretending that he wasn’t on the edge as well. Masky’s smooth voice was like the light at the end of the tunnel, the only thing you could audibly hear. “Come on princess, cum for us. Cum for me. Be good,” He encouraged, fucking upwards into your g spot. Your vision became hazy as you came, sweat dripping down your forehead and body trembling in their grasp. Your knuckles were white from grabbing Masky’s jacket so hard, your body withering in euphoria. The boys didn’t take long after that, cumming inside of your ass and cunt as they pleased. The four of you were entangled messes, the ecstasy overriding any sense of pride or moral obligation.

It was Toby who spoke first, cheeks flushed pink.

“So, we’re bringing her home with us right?”

[hazeljadie]

UNSAID WORDS | PARK SUNGHOON

bestfriend ! sunghoon x fem ! reader | wc. 3.3k synopsis: you instantly clicked with Sunghoon since you've started university, not realising when your adoration for your best friend turned into unrequited love genre: angst, fluff [SFW] a/n: tbh, this one has been collecting dust for months now - but hey, it was time for my first post ever!

Three years.

It has been three years, and yet every time I tried to say those simple three words to him, my voice got stuck in my throat. Why?

Why could I not confess my feelings to him? Say the most simple three words without overthinking my decision? Was I such a coward?

Yes, that was exactly what I was - a coward.

Watching and loving my best friend for the past three years just from the sidelines was the only thing I could do. I was too scared to find out that he didn't reciprocate my feelings for him. Hurting myself over and over in the process just because I couldn't stand losing him over my lousy greed for more. This had become my way of moving forward in life.

I should be happy with everything I already had in my life…right?

"Y/n, are you sleeping?"

I looked up. Sunghoon was towering over me, concern etched onto his tired face. His eyes took my breath away as they always did, but this time I couldn't stand to look into them.

My feelings for him were starting to suffocate me. My eyes teared up.

"Y- Y/n? Hey, are you okay?" Sunghoon crouched down while I sat back up in my desk chair. "Keep it down, silly. We're in the library." I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and smile at Sunghoon as he took a seat next to me, but judging from his intense stare, I knew he wouldn't let go.

"I yawned. You know how I always tear up when I yawn." The boy in front of me raised an eyebrow as if that was the most dumbest excuse one could come up with. But I lied through my teeth as if it couldn't be anything but the truth.

I squished his face with both my hands to break the awkward tension in the air. "Oi, the great and mighty Park Sunghoon, don't you know it's common sense for people to get tired when they pull an all-nighter?" I pinched his cheeks to distract him from getting any more suspicions about me.

Sunghoon swatted my hands away, smiling slightly at my annoying behaviour. He was convinced that I was indeed telling him the truth. "Cut it out, Y/n. Give me your car keys, I'll drop you off at your place. It's raining now and the streets are slippery since the temperatures have dropped too much."

No.

I didn't want to be confined with Sunghoon in a tight space like my car. Being in uni was different. What if I actually cried this time? Sunghoon would push me for answers. What if I finally gave in? He would leave me on the spot and never let me see him again-

"Don't even think about it, Y/n. You are definitely not driving".

Before I could even say anything to him, he snatched away my bag, fishing out my car key from the front pocket like he owned it. Protesting didn't do much - he simply stood up and left for the parking lot, my car key dangling between his fingers. I packed away my scattered study notes and pens on my table and ran after him.

❁

It didn't take us long and we were already on our way to my apartment, the rain sound was lulling me to sleep and I had a hard time keeping my eyes open. Sunghoon didn't mind and turned on the radio, softly humming to the songs that were being played. His voice worked its charm as if he were singing lullabies for me and I finally drifted off to a deep sleep.

"Hey, sleepyhead, wake up." Sunghoon nudged my cheek ever so lightly, I almost thought I was imagining things. "Y/n, wake up. We're here."

It took me a great effort to open my eyes, but I knew for sure that I wasn't imagining the light touches on my cheeks. Sunghoon was actually stroking my face as if I were the most delicate doll in the world.

Was my vision clouded again? Were my feelings for him messing with my mind?

I didn't trust myself to say anything to him. Not when my heart was acting up like this.

Without another word, Sunghoon took my bag from the backseat and looked through my bag until he found my house keys. Now holding both of our bags in his arms, he stepped out of the car and ran to my building on the opposite side to unlock the main door, only to be drenched by the heavy rain within seconds. He slammed it back and made sure the door wouldn't close and dropped both bags on the floor.

With long strides, he ran back to the car, opened the car door on my side. Out of nowhere, he swooped me up in his arms, careful enough so I didn't bump my head against the car.

"Sunghoon, I can walk!" I shivered when I clutched my body tighter to his, both were drenched to the bones at this point. But he didn't listen to me. He only put me down after we were already inside my apartment, pools of water formed under our feet in the entryway.

I looked dumbfounded at Sunghoon. What was going on in his head?

"Thank me later, Y/n. Can I crash here? Driving in this weather would be a foolproof way to see God, no kidding". He took off his wet coat, shoes, mismatched socks and stepped into the living room without even waiting for my answer.

"Sunghoon, what are you doing?" I followed his actions and trailed behind him to the living room, standing in front of him as he plopped down on my couch. "Whadd'ya mean 'what?'"

I don't know if it was my stance or the way I stared blankly at Sunghoon, but he understood that I was waiting for an explanation.

"Y/n, do you want me to drive back to my place in this rain? I've stayed awake for two days, too because of our uni project, Y/n, just like you've-"

"Sorry, I wasn't being considered towards you." I don't know why, but having Sunghoon in close proximity while I was sleep-deprived was not doing me any favours. I was tired, hurting, stupidly hopeful but irritated nonetheless. Sunghoon didn't do anything wrong for me to snap at him like that.

"You can stay here."

Without sparing him another glance, I dashed into my room and slammed the door close.

It hurt.

It hurt so much when the person I love was just a touch away, yet I couldn't reach out to him.

Love was never a necessity in Sunghoon's life. All his focus went towards his goal, making his dream turn into reality. Ever since he was a child, he knew exactly what he wanted from his life, and he was so close from reaching it. Following his passion made much more sense to him than being distracted by love and all the problems that came along with it.

My growing feelings were one of them.

And I had to put an end to it.

❁

I changed into comfortable clothes and laid awake in my bed as I watched the rain crash down against my window, turning the world outside into a blurry painting. I let my tears flow free and didn't even want to wipe them away. There was a void in me and it drained me of all my energy. My chain of thoughts were interrupted when I heard loud sneezes in the living room.

I stepped into the living room, the cold air nipping at my bare legs and arms that my pyjamas didn't cover, only to realise that Sunghoon fell asleep on the couch while his clothes were still wet. The rain didn't spare an inch of his body. And the couch turned dark from the wet material that clung to his body like a second skin.

"S- Sunghoon!" I was shaking his arms urgently, trying to wake him up. He didn't bother opening eyes, "Mmm, Y/n, stop-" "Sunghoon, please get up, you are drenched! You'll fall sick if you keep sleeping here!" Thankfully, I managed to make him sit up on the couch.

I went back to my room to pull out anything oversize Sunghoon could change into. 'These black joggers and t-shirt would have to do…both are size L, right?' I went back to Sunghoon to give him the clothes and pushed him towards the bathroom that was attached to my bedroom.

I walked back to the living room and headed to the kitchen to fetch myself a glass of water. I just really hoped that he didn't come down with the flu or something. What even was this bad luck of mine?

Sunghoon didn't come out from my room and I was feeling paranoid all of a sudden. 'He couldn't have fallen unconscious in the bathroom or something, right?', Not wasting another second, I took quick steps across the living room and reached for my bedroom. The only thing that came into my view, though, was Sunghoon lying peacefully in my bed.

I was taken back.

Obviously, Sunghoon couldn't sleep on the couch since his clothes made it wet, but I somehow didn't think through where else he might be sleeping - there was only my bed and the drenched couch in my apartment.

Where would I sleep now?

As if Sunghoon could read my mind, his groggy voice cut through the awkward silence in the room, "Y/n, could you bear with me for one night? Please? I…I swear, I won't do anything to you". His voice turned into a whisper in the end, as if it only dawned on him how ridiculous his plea sounded. "Trust me, please."

Would I trust him?

I trusted him.

More than I trusted myself in this situation.

So without batting in eye, I went over to my bed and climbed in, leaving enough space between us.

"Thank you, Y/n".

It wasn't a simple thank you between two best friends. It was a 'thank you' for the trust a woman was putting into a man's mere words.

I could've kicked Sunghoon out for even suggesting such an idea, because that was the obvious thing for me to do.

Or I could've even shouted at him - anything but laying next to the person I desperately tried to avoid in the first place. It seemed like the rained washed away every ounce of rationality I had in me.

❁

Soft snoring joined the sound of rain splattering against my windows. I couldn't fall asleep anymore, even though my eyelids felt heavy. It wasn't until I felt Sunghoon turn around and snake his arm around my waist that I became awfully aware of how close we were pushed against each other.

Sunghoon's breathing was tickling my neck, but I was stiff in my spot.

Was I supposed to wake him up? Did Sunghoon even have the faintest idea about what he was doing? What were his actions doing to my heart? Was he still asleep, not hearing how my heart was about to give up from beating too fast?

I waited.

I waited for him to stir, pull his arm away, or do anything. Something.

But he didn't.

I took a risk and slowly turned around under Sunghoon's arm. His face was void of any reaction, his breathing was steady and Sunghoon didn't seem to be awake.

A lump formed in my throat and it didn't want to go away, no matter how often I tried to swallow it down. My vision became blurry until the tears were flowing out and slowly turning my pillow case a shade darker.

My right hand hesitantly reached up and stopped mid-air. What was I doing? Sunghoon will hate me for this. He doesn't love me.

But my body had a mind of it's own: I was lightly caressing Sunghoon's cheek, unable to stop myself from doing so.

Will I ever be able to get over my love for this man?

Will I ever be as important to him as his ambitions in life?

Was falling in love supposed to be this painful?

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't see Sunghoon's open eyes staring right into mine.

I froze on the spot.

But he didn't do anything after that. He wasn't moving away.

Why?

The rain had no intention of slowing down and was splashing just as forcefully against the window behind us as it did a few hours ago. But I was damn sure that Sunghoon could hear my heart thumping loudly in my ribcage.

It felt like an eternity had passed, with neither of us pulling away from each other. My hand was still on Sunghoon's cheek, while his arm was resting on my waist as if it belonged there.

"Why aren't you saying anything, Sunghoon?" My voice was shakey and barely audible.

Sunghoon's voice also came out in a soft whisper, "Am I…supposed to say anything, Y/n?" His eyes were still void of any expression. I didn't have the faintest idea about what was going on in his mind.

"You don't hate-" I took a sharp intake of air before I continued, "You don't hate me for doing this to you?" I looked at my hand on his cheek and back into his eyes. I was nervous of his answer.

"It doesn't feel wrong, Y/n." His voice was shaking. "This…feels right, Y/n."

My heart stopped hearing those words. Did he not realise what he was saying?

We were still facing each other, not knowing what we should do - we were just lost in each others eyes, when Sunghoon spoke up. "I don't know what I should do, Y/n. I'm scared of this."

This sentence pierced through my already hurting heart. I removed my hand from his cheek and tried to pull back, but Sunghoon's grip on my waist tightened.

"I'm scared of hurting you, Y/n." Sunghoon was tearing up.

"Why would you even hurt me-"

"Because I'm falling in love with you, Y/n."

My whole world came to a stop. "What?"

The way Sunghoon's gaze changed made me question everything. I've never seen him look at me like that - the vulnerability in his eyes made my heart ache in a way I never had expected.

Sunghoon's tears were staining the side of his face now, before he pulled me into his chest and hugged me safely in his arms.

"I've never loved anyone in my life, Y/n. It was never meant for me. People come and go in my life and I never look back at them. But you…I'm scared of losing you. I started to make an effort of learning about the things you like and dislike, about the things you do and love. Unknowingly, you became an irreplaceable person in my life - you became my best friend."

Sunghoon was stroking my head so lightly as if I could break from a wrong touch. "Staying with you became as normal as filling my lungs with air to stay alive. But I started to become greedy - I wanted to have you for myself. Y/n, I was never jealous of anyone or anything in my life, because for me, working hard meant that I can achieve anything, get anything I want. But with you…"

I pulled back and looked into Sunghoon's dark eyes. His usually sharp gaze looked so vulnerable right now. His voice was breaking, "For the first time in my life, I felt a fear: why would you stay by my side if I don't know how to love? How to love you? You know what love is, but I don't…and I've never felt so lost in my life, Y/n. What if I can never love you the way I'm supposed to do it? The way you deserve to be loved? What if you start to hate me and-"

I stopped him. My hand was resting on his lips as both of us couldn't stop the tears from flowing.

"Do you mean it, Sunghoon?"

He cupped my hand with his, kissing the very palm that shushed him mere seconds ago.

"Yes."

I wiped away his tears and scooted closer to him. I had the sudden urge to feel his warmth on my skin. My voice was equally hoarse as Sunghoon's was before.

"Will you…Will you let me stay by your side, if I told you that I love you?"

I knew I was pushing my luck at this point, but Sunghoon had planted a seed of hope in my heart, and I couldn't stop it from sprouting.

"Y/n, do you really love me?" His soft hands were wiping away my tears now and delicately cradled my face between his palms, "Would you really stay with me? Even though I don't know how to love you…the way you truly deserve to be loved?"

Unsaid words that seemed like a far away dream were finally seeing the light of the world for the first time.

I smiled through my tears at him, with a flurry feeling in my chest that made me gasp for air, "I love you, Sunghoon. I always have."

Sunghoon mirrored my smile and bumped his forehead against my own. His breathing quickened, like he was having a hard time staying calm. He looked up and gazed lovingly into my eyes, not breaking eye contact even once. "Say that again, Y/n. Please."

"I love you, Sunghoon…I love you, I love you, I love-"

He didn't let me finish.

Sunghoon's plump lips covered mine in a long, warm kiss that left both of us short of breath.

All the feelings, love and desire we had for each other were poured into this kiss. The way he was still caressing my cheek while kissing me made me light-headed. My lungs were on fire, and I broke our kiss to catch air. The rain had finally slowed down and the sudden burst of moonlight escaping between the dark clouds made Sunghoon's face appear so magical as if this was all a dream.

"Do you…really love me, Sunghoon?" I had to make sure that this wasn't just another dream of mine. I had to make sure that Sunghoon felt the same for me as I did for him.

"I love you, Y/n. I love you so, so, so much." Sunghoon's whole face lit up with the brightest smile I've ever seen.

I've never witnessed him smile like this before - with so much adoration, love and want in his eyes, it almost made me choke up.

"And I will do anything in my might to show you just how much you mean to me."

Sunghoon kissed me. Again.

It felt like our lips were always meant to be this way. Like they belonged to each other. Like this was the only way we were supposed to exist.

Sunghoon smiled into the kiss. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. Then one on my right eye. Another one on the left eye. On my right cheek. One on the left one too.

Sunghoon started to place a trail of kisses on my neck and collarbone while his fingers delicately feathered over every inch of me within his reach. His lips traced my skin while he was moving lower and lower…and lower.

I lifted both of my hands and reached for his hair, using my soft grip on his dark locks to tug him back up to me, his lips were playing with mine again.

"Y/n", Sunghoon's voice came out as a strained whisper, "…there's still a chance to stop me, you just have to tell me once".

That unwanted fear settled back in his eyes: he didn't want me to regret our actions later just because we were getting carried away with the mood.

But I knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed to do.

And I've never been so sure about anything in my life like right now in this moment.

"Love me all the way and make me yours, Park Sunghoon."

[ariestrxsh]

pervy!bsf!chris x innocent!bsf!reader

᧔•᧓ content warning: smut, innocence corruption, degradation, roleplay (reader wears a schoolgirl outfit), nipple play, oral (f!receiving), fingering, dumbification, (dare i say some brat-taming action?)

᧔•᧓ summary: chris returns the pair of underwear that he stole from you, but you catch him putting them back

requested/inspired by this ask, this ask, and this ask ᧔•᧓

dividers by @/anitalenia

Creeping

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 |

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It was late Monday afternoon, and you were perched at the edge of your chair, still in the same outfit you'd worn to class, a plaid mini-skirt and a white button-up. You were sitting at your desk, scanning your textbook and taking in all the information you could for your upcoming tests.

You were scribbling down some notes in the margins of your paper when your phone started to vibrate, and you glanced down to see your best friend's name lit up on the screen. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, your heart hammering away in your chest, as you answered.

"Hey Chris," you greeted him, trying to sound like you weren't as excited as you were while you pinned down the page of your textbook with your elbow. "Hey, I think I may have left my hoodie there the other night," he started off.

"Oh yeah?" You asked, peering around your room with a perplexed look on your face. You were certain he hadn't, considering you had just deep cleaned the night before. "I don't know, Chris. I don't think it's here."

"Well, I'm in the area. You mind if I swing by and check?" He wondered. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought of seeing Chris tonight, but it quickly faded when you remembered how much you had to get done. You let out a disappointed sigh.

"I don't mind. I just have a lot of homework to do with finals coming up and everything, so you shouldn't stay for long. Last thing I need is you distracting me and keeping me from getting my work done," you snidely remarked.

"Who? Me? Distract you? Never," Chris sarcastically replied. "Whatcha working on?" He asked, a bit of curiosity in his voice. "I'm just doing some reading for my psych class. We're studying the psychology of human sexual behavior," you told him, trying to hold back a smirk although he couldn't see you.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, his voice laced with lust. "Maybe I could help you study. I know a lot about sexual behavior." You giggled and rolled your eyes. "Just come up when you get here," you responded before ending the call.

Chris smirked to himself after you got off the phone with him. He wasn't just casually in the area, and he wasn't exactly coming over to look for a lost hoodie, but rather he was trying to replace your pair of underwear he'd stolen the other day before you noticed they were gone. Little did he know that you already had, especially because they were your favorite pair.

He pulled up to your house a few minutes later, his tires coming to a stop as he threw his transmission into park and cut the engine. As he approached your front door, he felt around in his back pocket for your panties.

He gently brushed his fingers against the silk, making sure they were easily accessible, so he could just quickly drop them off somewhere in your room discretely. He turned the doorknob, letting himself in, his heart racing as he remembered the last time he'd walked up to your room unannounced.

As he approached your partially-open bedroom door, he found himself hoping to find you in another compromising position despite the fact that he knew you were expecting him. He peeked in through the opening in your door, gently tapping on the wood with his knuckles to keep from startling you.

You swiveled around in your desk chair to face Chris, your face lighting up as you did. You were in a black and white plaid skirt that barely hit the middle of your thigh, a collared white polo shirt, and your hair in two neat french braids. Fuck, he thought silently to himself, admiring the way you looked just like a little schoolgirl who was working on her studies.

His eyes danced over your features and your body, remembering how you looked the other day when he caught you riding your pillow. Images of you rocking your hips back and forth flashed in his mind - your eyes screwed shut, your pink lips parted, and your sweet sounds filled the air while you desperately grinded against your bedding.

"I'm telling you, Chris. I've torn this whole room apart. Your hoodie isn't here," were the first words you said to him before you went back to chewing on the eraser of your pencil as you studied your notes, tearing him out of his daydream.

"Tore your room apart looking for my hoodie?" He asked, wrinkling his brow and wondering how you'd gotten the place looking so neat again in a matter of minutes. "No, I tore it apart the other night. I was.. looking for something else. Just an item of clothing I misplaced," you told him, pulling your gaze away from his.

You were too embarrassed to tell him that you were actually searching for an elusive pair of panties that seemed to have grown legs and walked off on their own. Shit, he thought to himself upon realizing you already knew they were missing.

"Well, I'm still gonna just peek around if you don't mind. Maybe you missed it," Chris replied, wandering further into your room and trying to make his search seem genuine. He reached into his back pocket, about to take out your underwear and shove them into a crack in your dresser drawer when he heard your voice from behind him. "Chris?"

"Yeah?" He asked, whipping around to face you, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. "Are those.. my panties?" You wondered aloud, gesturing towards the pink silk that you saw poking out of his back pocket. "What?" He asked, pretending to not understand what you meant, taking a few steps closer to you. You narrowed your gaze at him.

"Chris. You heard me. Why do you have my panties?" You asked, your face growing hot with embarrassment. "Don't worry. I washed them for you," he sweetly replied, dodging your question completely and reaching into his back pocket to hand them over.

He'd washed them twice actually.

He couldn't help himself that morning when he woke up with a hard on fueled by dreams of you. Your panties were just right there, and he couldn't control himself when he'd gotten the idea to jerk off using the soft, pretty fabric. He'd busted all over them in a matter of minutes, resulting in him needing to run them through the wash again before returning them.

Of course, he wasn't going to tell you that, but he knew exactly what he'd done.

You snatched them out of his hand, stuffing them into your desk drawer. "Why do you have them?" You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows and cocking your head to the side.

"C'mon. You know. The only reason any guy would take your panties," he replied in a low, quiet voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. "And what reason would that be?" You wondered, still not understanding his motive.

Although you were a virgin, you weren't clueless. You'd seen porn, and you'd masturbated, but you didn't understand why your best friend wanted your worn panties.

"I wanted to sniff them," he chuckled, taking another step closer to you. His blue eyes pierced through you, and your face grew hot under his scrutiny. "Chris! Gross! Why would you do that? They were dirty. I wore them. I.." you started to say, but your voice trailed off.

You didn't want to admit to what else you'd done with them on.

"You got off while wearing them?" He interjected, finishing your sentence. Your jaw dropped, your eyes widened, and your hand flew up to cover your open mouth.

"I have a lot of work to do. Your hoodie isn't here. Thanks for bringing back my panties. They're my favorite pair," you told him, pretending that he hadn't just said that. You peered back down at your textbook, getting back to your assignment and hoping he'd drop the subject, take the hint, and be on his way.

However, he was having a little too much fun with you.

"I can see why," Chris chuckled. "They're soft and pretty. I bet they felt really good rubbing against you when you were riding your pillow, hmm?" Your eyes widened as your gaze flicked back up at him from your work. "How do you know about that?" You shot back in a defensive voice, trying to figure out exactly when he snuck in and took them.

"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have," he started off his sentence, innocently biting down on his lip and faking an apologetic tone. "I left my phone up here, and I came up to get it. I would have tried harder to get your attention, but you looked like you were really enjoying yourself. I didn't want to disturb you," he told you as if trying to paint it like he did you a favor by peeping on you through the crack in your door.

"You're such a fucking creep, Chris! Oh my god," you huffed. "But you were the one moaning my name while you were getting off, so what does that make you? A little slut?" He hissed, taking another step forward, leaning down, and gently tucking a stray strand of hair that had escaped your braid behind you ear.

You looked at him silently, your features softening, unable to hide how much you liked being called that.

"In fact, I bet you're turned on right now," he softly cooed, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand, his piercing blue eyes boring into you. "I am not," you scoffed, turning your head away from him. "Yeah? Then let me smell you," Chris smirked, reaching down and fiddling with the hem of your little plaid skirt.

"You can't tell something like that from my scent!" You exclaimed, whipping back around and narrowing your eyes at him as you batted away his hand. "Watch me," he lustfully replied, kneeling down in front of you.

"W-what are you doing?" You asked, peering down at him wide-eyed as he slowly hiked up your skirt, his fingertips brushing against the tops of your thighs. Your legs involuntarily fell open, inviting him in.

His stubble tickled the soft flesh of your inner thigh as he neared your heat, holding eye contact the entire time. He deeply inhaled, your arousal filling his senses. "Shit. You want it bad, don't you?" He replied without even touching or looking between your legs. "What?" You sharply replied, considering denying his claim for a moment. "How can you.. tell?"

Your heart pounded, and you grew even more wet at the thought that Chris could tell, on some level, what you were thinking about. You could feel his warm, labored breath hitting your clit through the fabric, and it made you shudder. He chuckled, paying attention to every subtle response.

"You smell different when you're turned on," he whispered, pressing his nose up to your panties and deeply inhaling your scent again. "Chris. That's so weird," you replied softly, feeling somewhat violated and wondering just how many times he'd deliberately sniffed your underwear.

Your mouth said it was weird, but your body language said otherwise.

You sunk further down into your seat, and Chris gave you a mischevious smirk from between your legs before leaning forward and gently kissing you through the damp fabric of your panties. The sensation made you jolt.

You tipped your head back, letting out a soft whine as you felt his soft lips against your clothed cunt. You gripped the arms of your chair, curling your fingers around the material and biting down on your lip as a look of desire washed over your face.

Chris pulled away, his eyes locked on yours as a dark smile spread across his lips. "I thought you had a lot of homework to do," he teased you, "or are you being a naughty little schoolgirl, hmm?" He reached up and gently tugged on one of your braids.

Your breath hitched in your throat, unable to give him a response, but he could tell he was driving you crazy. Chris hummed against the inside of your thigh as he lightly kissed your soft flesh again.

He started unbuttoning the top button of your shirt, his wandering hand slipping inside your top as he gently squeezed your breast, the pad of his thumb brushing against your hardening nipple. His touch was electric, sending a current of energy throughout your entire body with every carress and every word.

He undid the next few buttons, the white fabric falling open to reveal your tits. "Wow," Chris whispered, leaning forward to take one into his mouth. His soft, pink lips latched onto your stiff nipple, and you moaned as his tongue gently flitted over your sensitive bud. He started gently sucking and humming against your chest, your body relaxing into the wonderful feeling.

"Look at these! They're so pretty," Chris cooed, gently squeezing them with both hands, his mouth alternating back and forth between both the right and the left. "I thought you weren't gonna distract me," you whimpered, secretly hoping he wouldn't stop. "Then don't get distracted," he chuckled against your breast.

"Chris. I can't concentrate when you're doing that," you whimpered in a bratty tone. "Don't worry about me. You just keep being a good student and study," Chris demanded with a dominant edge to his voice.

You obediently nodded, your breath caught in your throat as he reached up your skirt, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your black cotton panties. You stabilized yourself on the arms of your chair, placing your feet on the ground below you and lifting your hips to help him take them off of you.

He slowly pulled the fabric down your legs, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. "C'mon. Pick up your book and start reading to me. Prove to me that you're actually learning something instead of just being a dumb little slut who daydreams about my cock all day," he taunted you, his words alone nearly sending you over the edge.

He lifted up the front of your skirt with a mischevious grin and roughly spread open your legs. His fingers jabbed into your supple flesh as he admired your wet cunt, licking his lips like a starving animal. You pulled your book off your desk, holding it up with shaky hands, but you couldn't take your eyes off Chris and the way he was teasing you, gently blowing cold air over your clit.

"C'mon. Quit being a little slut, and focus on your work, huh?" Chris purred, digging into your thighs so harshly that his fingers started to leave red marks. You nodded your head eagerly as you tried to focus your vision on the text. "Naughty little thing. You're drenched," he rasped, his mesmerized gaze fixed on your glistening folds as he spread them open with his fingers.

You clenched around nothing as Chris' words reached your ears. He smiled deviously at how submissive and responsive you were. You cleared your throat, getting ready to read from the introduction. "Sexual human behavior is a complex and multi- oh!" You were cut off by the soft feeling of Chris' tongue swiping over your clit.

You shuddered, clutching your book to your chest as you peered down at the boy grazing between your legs. You watched for a moment, soaking in the feeling of Chris slowly and gently running the length of his tongue from your cunt to your clit, but he wasn't letting you get away with not obeying him.

"I didn't say stop, did I? Start over," Chris sternly responded, his angry stare reaching yours. You slowly nodded and brought your eyes back down to your psychology textbook. "Human sexual behavior.." you started again, but you felt the blue-eyed boy wrap his plump lips around your clit, and you bit back a moan as you felt him gently suckling on it.

You squirmed around in your seat a bit as he held you in place. "You're not gonna do a very good job on this test if you can't focus while under a little pressure, are you?" He smugly asked you, pulling away for a moment. "Start over."

Before you could pick up where you left off, Chris suddenly spat on your pussy, and your whole body tensed up as you sharply gasped. You felt his saliva slowly dripping down your fold as he darkly chuckled from between your thighs, knowing he was driving you crazy.

"Human sexual behavior is a complex and multi-faceted aspect of human experience that is influenced by biological, psychological, social, and cultural factors," you managed to rush through the sentence, your voice trembling as Chris attached his lips to your sensitive bud again. You took a deep breath before you started the next sentence.

"When focusing on the psychological factors," you stopped again, gripping the cover of your textbook tightly as Chris gripped the edge of your seat, pulling you closer to him, "we must look at the motivation behind sex." You felt your breath involuntarily quickening as Chris explored you with his tongue, slowly licking up and down your slit as he teased your hole.

"Keep reading, naughty girl," Chris whispered before returning to his long, gentle licks. "Sexual desire - oh, Chris - is driven by - mmm - pleasure, intimacy, and procreation," you managed to get out, struggling to keep your concentration.

"Hmm. Interesting," he hummed before taking your clit between his lips again. "Chris, I don't know if I can do this," you whimpered, clutching your textbook to your chest again and tipping your head back, your eyelids fluttering closed.

"Such a bratty little thing. I should give you detention for not doing as I say, hmm? Keep reading," Chris purred, his warm breath hitting your heat. You shuddered, looked down at your book, and started reading from it again. Chris sped up the flicker of his tongue, and you gasped as you felt his middle finger pressing up against your hole.

Without hesitation, he pushed it inside, your jaw dropping as he inserted it to the knuckle. He started pumping in and out of you, pulling more desperate sounds from you while he continued to work his mouth on your most sensitive area. You peered down at the page, the text beginning to blur as your eyes lost focus.

You stumbled over your words, struggling to get through each sentence, your mind swirling with several thoughts, not one of them having to do with the homework you needed to get done. The longer Chris' relentless assault on your tender pussy went on, the less thoughts you had at all until you were a pathetic mess, babbling incoherently and squirming around in your seat.

"My pretty schoolgirl going all dumb on my tongue and my fingers?" Chris asked in a tantalizing tone, smirking against your most sensitive place, but you were too fucked out to answer or give any sign that you'd even comprehended what he'd said at all.

Chris gripped the seat of your chair, pulling you closer to him until he was devouring your pussy whole, softly nuzzling against your clit as more broken syllables and whimpers fell from your lips. You couldn't take it anymore. You couldn't focus on school right now, not when Chris was teasing you like this.

You pulled the textbook against your chest again, your gaze falling to the boy who was knelt between your legs, his blue eyes flickering up at you with a lustful glint as you started grinding against his face.

"Don't look at me, little slut. Look at your textbook. What are you gonna tell your professor if you don't finish your work, huh? Too busy getting your sweet pussy eaten?" Chris cooed in a condescending voice, gripping your hips to keep you still. "I don't think he'll think that's a very good excuse.."

Chris' words added to your pleasure, especially the way his breath ghosted over your hole while he spoke them. You shuddered at the sensation before lifting your book again in your trembling hands, your shaky voice struggling to get through the paragraph.

You felt a warmth spreading in your lower abdomen as Chris slipped another long finger into your cunt and started curling them, rutting up against your g-spot. "Oh!" You yelped as Chris hummed against you, his lips closing in on your clit.

Your body started to spasm beneath him, nearly dropping the book you weakly held in your hands. Chris peered up at you, the way you were struggling to hold on, feasting his eyes on the sight of you in your little plaid skirt about to finish on his tongue and his fingers.

After a few more seconds of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves, your orgasm was crashing over you. Chris didn't falter in his movements, softly grunting against your pussy in satisfaction as you released onto his tastebuds. He slowed the pumping of his fingers, but he left them inside of you, still feeling the way you throbbed around them as you came down.

"My slutty schoolgirl. I wonder what your teacher would think if he knew you were creaming all over my fingers instead of studying your work," his lips curled into a devious smirk. "I bet he'd fail you for being such a dumb little slut."

You gave Chris an embarrassed smile, blood rushing to your cheeks as you tried to catch your breath. He withdrew his fingers, standing to his feet, his eyes still locked on you as you closed your legs and smoothed your skirt out back down over your thighs.

You couldn't believe you'd let Chris do that and while calling you such degrading names, too.

He gave you a smug smile as he took his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean and humming in delight as he savored your flavor. He wiped his chin, that was glistening in your arousal, on the back of his hand. "I'll let you get back to your school work. Let me know if you find my hoodie," Chris winked, knowing damn well there was no hoodie to be found.

He ruffled your hair in a teasing manner, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that Chris didn't just have you stumbling over your words and finishing all over his face. After Chris left the room, you buried your face in your textbook, half-embarrassed and half-hoping he'd spontaneously turn around and take it a step further.

Chris trotted down the stairs and out the door, greeting your unsuspecting mother who had just pulled into the driveway and was starting to unload groceries. His blue eyes danced over her figure, appreciating the genetics that ran in your family as he headed towards his car.

"Hi, Chris. Leaving already?" Your mom called out to him, blissfully unaware of the names he had just called you upstairs as you came on his tongue. "Yeah, I just stopped by to look for a hoodie I thought I left here. She's got a lot of studying to do. I don't wanna distract her," Chris lied through his teeth, his lips curling into a smile as he reached up and innocently rubbed the back of his neck.

He gestured towards the bags in her trunk, silently offering to help carry them in. "Awh, Chris. You're so sweet," she replied, handing him a grocery bag. "Why don't you stay for dinner, sweetheart? We'd love to have you."

Chris was right about to thank her for the offer and politely decline when his phone started to vibrate. He peered down to see the name of the girl he'd hooked up with the other night while he was thinking about you, and even now, that was all he could do.

"I'm making spaghetti. Unless you've got somewhere to be," your mom motioned towards his vibrating cell.

After a few seconds of deliberation, Chris sent the call to voicemail, knowing exactly what the girl was calling for. "Nah, actually. I'd love to stay for dinner," Chris responded, his gaze raising to meet your mom's again. It wasn't like Chris to turn down a desperate girl who was calling to get her fix, but he didn't want to fuck anyone until he could have you.

"Let's get these groceries inside," your mom said, grabbing the remainder of the bags and shutting the trunk of her SUV. His eyes immediately dropped to her ass, watching the way her hips swayed as she made her way towards the entrance of the house.

"My daughter's so lucky to have you as a friend, Chris. You're always such a gentleman," your mom said as she turned around, glancing over her shoulder at the blue-eyed boy.

"Thanks, ma'am," Chris replied, getting off on the fact that your mom was practically inviting a wolf in sheep's clothing into her home to further defile her daughter. He followed her in through the front door, his smug grin never falling from his facial expression.

His phone vibrated again, but only once this time. Same girl. "Come over? I need you," her text read. Chris let out a sigh and rolled his eyes at her desperation. "Can't. Busy," he coldly responded, tucking his phone back into his pocket.

click to read part 3 ᧔•᧓

[heavensenteden]

✎ the art of submission | nsfw fic 🔞

☆彡

ahh hello hello everyone!! i have another work to bestow upon you all!

this one was based off a request from @1heartsubm1ssivemen and is fully dedicated to them <3 (biggest brain ever fr)

we have subby sol crying and being edged while the mc paints him, what more could you ask for?

i will singlehandedly keep tkatb fandom alive with my submissive sol agenda

anyways enjoy all ;D

link to ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63701095

word count: 2409

pls minors dni and dnr ⭐

cw: vibrators, orgasm control/denial, crying, sub!sol, overstimulation

🍀˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

"Thanks for coming over at the last minute, Sol."

You flash him a small smile as you step aside, letting him into your humble studio apartment. The air inside is warm, carrying the faint scent of paint and something a little sweeter, maybe the remnants of the earl grey tea you had earlier.

Solivan steps in hesitantly, hands stuffed deep in his hoodie pockets, eyes flickering over the scattered art supplies and the half-finished canvases leaning against the walls. His usual guarded expression softens slightly, at being in such a comfortable place.

"It’s no problem," he mutters, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

"You said you needed help with a project?" 

You hum in confirmation, closing the door behind him with a click. "Mhm. I’m working on a new piece, but I need a muse."

His brows knit together in confusion. "A muse?"

"Yep." You grab his wrist gently, tugging him deeper into the room. 

"You’d be perfect for it. Just trust me."

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably as you lead him toward the seemingly innocent chair positioned in the center of the studio space.

"I... I dunno if I’m really the ‘muse’ type," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You tilt your head, studying him with a slow, knowing smile.

"Oh, I think you’ll do just fine."

His throat bobs in a nervous swallow.

You squeeze his wrist, thumb brushing over his skin in a way that’s almost soothing.

Almost.

"You trust me, don’t you, Sol?"

A pause. A breath. His fingers twitch slightly at his sides.

"...Yeah. I do."

Your smile widens.

"Good. Then sit down."

He obeys.

-

"Stay still."

Your voice is firm, carrying the weight of an order rather than a request. Solivan shudders, his knuckles turning white where they grip the arms of the chair. His lips part like he wants to speak, to protest, but he knows better. He swallows hard instead, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he fights to regulate his breathing.

The soft hum of the speaker playing classical music in your studio is the only sound aside from his sharp, shaky breaths and whimpers.

The canvas before you is barely touched, only primed, your brush hovering in the air as you study him, the way his body trembles, the way his thighs quiver from restraint. 

He’s so desperate already, and you haven’t even started painting yet.

The dildo beneath him is merciless, pressing deep into his ass as it vibrates, and with every tiny movement and shift of his hips it brushes right against his sweet spot. You can tell he’s trying his best to stay still, to obey you, but the tension in his muscles betrays him.

 

His cock is achingly hard, flushed red, twitching against the tight grip of the cock ring. His nipples, adorned with delicate metal clamps, are stiff and oversensitive.

You dip your brush into a little bit of paint and drag it lazily across the canvas. The sound of the bristles gliding against the surface fills the air, mingling with Sol’s hitched gasps.

"You're tensing up again, Sol," you chide, not even looking at him. 

"A good muse wouldn’t move so much."

A sharp whimper escapes him, and his nails dig into the chair as the vibrations make all his thoughts disappear. His body wants to arch, wants to grind down, wants friction, wants release, but he knows he can’t. Not without permission from you.

"P-please..." His voice is fragile, barely more than a whisper, laced with need, frustration, desperation.

You finally glance up from the canvas, eyes dragging over his trembling form, over the glistening precum pooling at the tip of his neglected cock. You smile.

"Oh, sweetheart... you’re already making such a mess."

His breath shudders, eyes hazy, clouded with a mix of shame and unbearable pleasure.

"But we’re not done yet."

You tap your brush against the rim of your paint cup, tilting your head as you study him.

Solivan’s breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, his chest rising and falling like he’s run a marathon. He’s trying so desperately to obey, to be the good little muse you expect him to be. But his body betrays him, twitching, trembling, leaking, his restraint hanging on by a fragile thread.

You continue painting, calm, unaffected, letting him sit before you desperately. The wet slide of the brush against the canvas fills the air, a reminder of your current task.

Solivan shifts just slightly, and the dildo beneath him sinks deeper into him.

A choked moan tears from his throat, his body jerking before he catches himself, barely holding still. His fingers dig into the chair, thighs trembling so violently they might give out at any moment. His cock twitches, drooling against the unrelenting grip of the cock ring.

You set the brush down.

His breath hitches, like he knows what’s coming.

Your feet, in quick smooth steps, carry you toward him. He refuses to meet your eyes, his head tilted forward, jaw clenched so tight it’s a wonder he hasn’t cracked his teeth.

You tut softly, reaching out to trace a single finger down his chest, dragging across his stomach, then circling one of the sensitive clamps on his nipple. You want on the chain that connects them, ever so slightly, and Sol bows forward, a moan, a loud cry escaping his lips. 

You let go, your hands trailing along his neck, his shoulders, and finally along his face, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you lift his chin up.

Sol shudders, a pathetic little whimper spilling from his lips.

"Look at you," you murmur, admiring the way his skin is burning, the way his body is vibrating under your touch. "I’ve barely done anything, and you’re already falling apart."

He whimpers again, hips twitching forward on instinct, as if hoping for just the tiniest bit of friction. 

"Do you want something, Sol?" you ask, your tone deceptively sweet.

He nods frantically, but it’s not enough. You grip his chin, tilting his face up to yours, forcing him to meet your gaze. His pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen from how hard he’s been biting them, and his cheeks have lines of stray tears from how long he’d been edged by you.

"Use your words, sweetheart."

His breath stutters.

"P-please... I c-can’t... I need—"

You hum, letting your fingers trail lower, ghosting over his cock, not touching, just hovering. His body jerks, his legs spread wider in pure instinct, desperate for more, desperate for anything.

"You need what?" you press, enjoying the way he trembles, so close to breaking.

"Need to c-cum," he whispers, voice wrecked, ruined.

Your smirk is merciless.

"And what happens to bad little muses who don’t follow directions?"

His breath catches. His thighs squeeze together. A whine spills from his throat, because he knows.

You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice a hushed purr,

"They don’t get to cum at all."

And just like that, the last of his composure shatters.

A sob wracks through him, his body jerking violently, hips rolling down onto the dildo despite himself, his cock twitching helplessly, but the ring keeps him trapped in unbearable agony, unable to release.

"Ah-ah," you tease, pulling back to admire his wrecked, ruined, pitiful state. His skin is flushed, his entire body shaking, his mouth open in a silent cry of frustration.

"Tsk," you sigh, dragging your fingers down his trembling thigh. "I was going to be nice and let you have your reward soon, but now? I think I’ll take my time."

He whimpers again, desperate, frantic, pleading— but he belongs to you. And you decide when this ends.

Not him.

Never him.

Solivan whimpers, his breath coming in shaky, broken gasps. His body is twitching, every muscle screaming with exhaustion, pleasure sharp and unbearable, but you’re not done yet.

Not even close.

"Oh, sweetheart," you coo, tilting your head as you trace a lazy finger down his flushed, heaving chest. "I thought you wanted to cum?"

His thighs clench at the words, his whole body recoiling with need, but that cock ring? It won’t let him. He physically can’t, no matter how much his body begs for it.

And that’s the best part.

You drag a chair closer, settling in right between his trembling legs, your gaze fixated on how pitifully his cock is twitching, leaking, throbbing, desperate for anything, any kind of friction.

"I guess I could be kind," you muse, reaching for a small pink vibrator on the table. "But I think I’d rather see how much more you can take."

Sol’s eyes go wide.

He barely has time to whimper out a plea before you press the vibrator flush against the head of his cock.

He screams.

Not a loud, sharp scream, but one of pure, strangled, wrecked pleasure, the kind that forces his body to convulse, his hands clenched into fists, his hips jolting upward as if trying to run from the sensation while also chasing it.

But he can’t run.

Not from you at least.

He’s trapped between the cock ring, the dildo pressing deeper inside him as it softly vibrates, and the relentless buzzing against his swollen, overstimulated tip.

His entire body is shaking.

"N-No—! I c-can’t—!" His voice is hoarse, whiny, cracking on every syllable, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.

You just smile.

"Can’t?" You tilt your head, pressing the vibrator harder against him.

His back arches violently.

"You were so eager to cum a moment ago," you tease, watching the way his thighs twitch uncontrollably. "What happened?"

A helpless sob tears from his throat. His whole body convulses, hips bucking in jerky, uncontrollable movements, but it’s not enough. He’s aching, pulsing, so close he could die.

"P-Please—!" he chokes out, voice completely wrecked, barely even coherent.

"Please what?" you murmur, dragging the vibrator down, tracing it along his shaft, watching the way his legs shake, his breath hitched in desperate, pleading sobs.

"P-Please—! Let me—! I can’t— I can’t—!"

His head falls back, mouth hanging open, drool pooling at the corners of his lips. His entire body is trembling, so fucked out, so completely destroyed by the pleasure that he can’t even speak properly.

"Awww," you coo, watching him fall apart. "You're crying, sweetheart."

And he is.

Tears are streaming down his flushed cheeks, his body helplessly shaking, his cock throbbing violently under the relentless vibration. His legs twitch, spasming from pure overstimulation, every nerve in his body burning with unbearable pleasure.

"You look so pretty like this," you sigh, finally reaching out to stroke a gentle hand through his damp, and dark, sweat-matted hair. "My perfect little muse."

And then, with an almost bored tone, you whisper to him sweetly,

"Cum for me."

The moment you slip the cock ring off,

Solivan shatters.

His entire body convulses, hips bucking wildly, a loud, wrecked moan tearing from his throat as he finally, finally spills over himself.

It’s messy, violent, overwhelming, his orgasm crashing into him like a tidal wave, his breath hitching between sobs and broken moans, his legs twitching, body completely wrung out as he just keeps cumming and cumming, his overstimulated nerves on fire.

And you?

You watch in awe.

Completely composed, calm, tilting your head in mock curiosity as he loses himself completely.

His thighs are still twitching long after the last of his release dribbles down his spent cock, and his chest is rising and falling in frantic, exhausted gasps.

You hum softly, dipping your brush into the mess of cum on his stomach, swirling it lazily before turning back to the canvas.

"I think I’ll call this piece… 'Ruined.'"

Solivan whimpers, his body utterly wrecked, his breath shaky, weak, and you know…

He’s never going to be the same again.

His body is still twitching from the aftershocks, his chest rising and falling in uneven, gasping breaths. His legs feel boneless, limp, completely useless beneath him, and his arms have long since given up on holding himself up. He slumps back in the chair, head lolling to the side, eyes glassy, unfocused, barely present.

A few stray tears still cling to his lashes, his lips parted in breathless exhaustion, his skin warm and damp with sweat.

And you?

You finally set the brush down, stepping back to admire your work, not just the painting, but him.

Absolutely wrecked, ruined, beautiful in his undoing.

But now? Now it's time to put him back together.

"You did so well, sweetheart," you murmur, your voice softer now, soothing as you cup his cheek, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb.

Solivan whimpers, his eyes fluttering shut at the touch, his body instinctively leaning into your warmth, like he’s seeking comfort, craving the tenderness he was denied for so long.

"Shhh… it's okay. I’ve got you," you whisper, pressing a kiss to his temple before carefully undoing the clamps on his overstimulated, sensitive nipples.

A small hiss escapes him, his body flinching at the sensation, but you’re quick to soothe him, rubbing soft circles against his chest, murmuring quiet praises into his skin.

"You were perfect for me," you hum, tracing your fingers down his trembling stomach, over the sticky mess still clinging to his skin.

His cheeks flush, and he tries to shift, squirming weakly, embarrassed, but his body is too drained, too exhausted to even move properly.

"Don’t move, baby," you chide gently, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his jaw. "Let me take care of you."

He lets out a small, whimpering sound, but he nods. He trusts you.

You grab a warm, damp towel, carefully wiping away the mess, your touch gentle, precise, never rushing.

Every time he flinches, you slow down. Every time he whimpers, you whisper sweet reassurances

"You did so good for me, love."

"You're so beautiful when you let go like that."

"I’ve got you. I’ll always take care of you."

By the time you finish cleaning him up, Solivan is half-asleep, completely pliant in your hands, his head resting against your shoulder.

You smile, pressing a final kiss to his forehead before wrapping him in a soft, warm blanket, pulling him close to cradle him against your chest.

He sighs, content, safe, loved.

And in the quiet hum of the studio, with the scent of paint still lingering in the air, you simply hold him, the masterpiece you created, now resting in your arms.

🍀˖ ִֶָ 𓂃⭒

[hjpsdiary]

slytherin boy's headcons (them as ur bf <3)

theodore nott as your boyfriend :

• he’s the definition of quiet but observant; he notices every little thing about you, from your favorite snacks to how you fidget when nervous.

• doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s meaningful—his compliments feel rare and precious.

• surprisingly affectionate in private; he’ll always find excuses to brush his fingers against yours or pull you close when no one’s looking.

• reads a lot and will casually leave books he thinks you’d like in your bag or on your desk.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it—he’ll silently step in when someone’s bothering you or shoot a glare that makes them back off immediately.

• has a sarcastic sense of humor that comes out more as he gets comfortable with you; you’re one of the few people who ever see him smile.

• remembers everything you say, even the small things, and will surprise you by acting on it weeks later.

• not big on grand romantic gestures but makes up for it with small, thoughtful actions, like brewing your favorite tea or saving you a seat in class.

• loves stargazing; it’s one of the rare times he really opens up, sharing his thoughts and dreams while lying next to you under the stars.

• isn’t the best with words when expressing feelings but tries to write them down for you in short, heartfelt notes.

• values trust above all else; if you’re patient with him, he’ll let his walls down completely and be endlessly loyal.

• his love language is acts of service—he’ll carry your books, fix your broken quill, or help you study without you even asking.

• secretly adores when you wear something of his, like a sweater or scarf, and won’t say it outright but will be internally smug all day.

• has a soft, calming presence that makes you feel safe and at ease no matter what’s going on around you.

• he’s not perfect, sometimes retreating into himself when overwhelmed, but he’ll always come back to you, knowing you’re his anchor.

mattheo riddle as your boyfriend :

• the ultimate bad boy with a soft spot only for you; he’s tough around others but absolutely melts when it comes to you.

• constantly teases you but gets genuinely offended if you don’t fire back—he loves the banter.

• incredibly protective to the point where he’ll square up with anyone who even looks at you the wrong way.

• thrives on physical touch—his arm is always slung around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers intertwined with yours.

• has a devilish grin that he only uses to fluster you because he knows it works every single time.

• somehow knows exactly where you are at all times, and not in a creepy way—just always shows up when you need him.

• calls you ridiculous nicknames like “princess,” “trouble,” or “love,” depending on his mood.

• super possessive but not in a toxic way—he just loves reminding people that you’re his.

• absolutely hates when you’re upset with him and will go out of his way to apologize, even if it means swallowing his pride.

• smokes casually and offers you his jacket when it’s cold, the scent of him lingering on it for hours after.

• loves pulling you into trouble with him, whether it’s sneaking out after curfew or pranking someone, but always makes sure you’re safe.

• surprisingly intellectual—he can talk about dark magic theories for hours and gets a kick out of teaching you forbidden spells.

• his temper can flare up, especially when someone crosses you, but he always calms down when you’re around.

• absolutely adores seeing you in his clothes; he’ll smirk and say, “Looks better on you, anyway.”

• deeply loyal—once you have his heart, there’s no getting rid of him, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

• loves late-night conversations, where he gets a little vulnerable and tells you about his past and his fears.

• has a soft side he rarely shows, but when he does, it’s for you—whether it’s stroking your hair when you’re stressed or mumbling “I love you” when he thinks you’re asleep.

• he’s chaos personified, but somehow, with you, he feels like he’s finally found a bit of peace.

lorenzo birkshire as your boyfriend:

• he’s the smooth talker who flirts like it’s second nature, but with you, it’s genuine—he means every word.

• loves to make you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to crack jokes, pull silly faces, or do over-the-top impressions just to see you smile.

• low-key a hopeless romantic; he’ll surprise you with little handwritten notes, flowers he “found,” or surprise dates in secret spots.

• absolutely loves PDA—he’s the type to kiss your cheek in front of everyone or hold your hand just to let people know you’re his.

• he’s fiercely loyal, and anyone who tries to mess with you instantly regrets it; he’ll defend you without hesitation.

• the type to whisper in your ear during class, making you both laugh quietly, even if it earns him a detention.

• incredibly charming but gets adorably flustered when you flirt back or catch him off guard.

• loves spoiling you in small ways—buying you your favorite sweets, carrying your bag, or sneaking you an extra butterbeer during Hogsmeade trips.

• surprisingly good at comforting you when you’re upset; he’ll listen, wrap you in a warm hug, and crack just the right joke to lighten the mood.

• lives for the banter between you two; he thinks it’s hilarious when you try to outwit him, even if you win.

• would give you his scarf or cloak without hesitation if you were cold and wouldn’t stop teasing you about looking “adorable” in it.

• the type to plan spontaneous adventures, dragging you out of bed to sneak around the castle or explore forbidden areas.

• he’s a mix of chaotic energy and soft affection, always knowing when to be playful and when to be serious.

• low-key brags about you to his friends but pretends he’s “too cool” to care when they tease him about how smitten he is.

• loves running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, especially when you’re sitting close or leaning against him.

• insists on being your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up before exams, Quidditch matches, or even small challenges.

• gets jealous easily but tries to play it off—he’s terrible at hiding it, though, and ends up pouting until you reassure him.

• he’s the kind of boyfriend who’s both your partner in crime and your safe place, balancing wild fun with genuine love.

draco malfoy as your boyfreind:

• starts off guarded, but once he lets his walls down, he’s completely devoted to you.

• the type to act all cool and aloof in public but secretly loves holding your hand or brushing his fingers against yours.

• buys you extravagant gifts, not because he’s trying to show off, but because it’s how he expresses his love—jewelry, rare books, or even something sentimental he knows you’ll cherish.

• incredibly protective; he’d go out of his way to make sure you’re safe and comfortable, whether that means intimidating someone who’s bothering you or walking you to every class.

• struggles to express his emotions verbally but makes up for it through his actions—he’ll always be there when you need him, no questions asked.

• low-key thrives on your praise; hearing you say you’re proud of him or appreciate him makes him feel on top of the world.

• gets jealous easily and tries to play it cool, but his little snarky comments give him away every time.

• loves spoiling you in subtle ways, like slipping your favorite dessert onto your plate at dinner or reserving the best spot in the library for you.

• softens dramatically when he’s with you; he goes from sharp sarcasm to quiet vulnerability in your presence.

• late-night talks are where he truly opens up, sharing his fears, insecurities, and dreams he’s too afraid to admit to anyone else.

• secretly loves when you mess with his perfectly styled hair, even though he’ll complain about it every time.

• will drape his scarf or coat around your shoulders if you’re cold, muttering something about how he “can’t have you freezing to death.”

• loves hearing you laugh; he’ll go out of his way to say something witty just to see you smile, even if it’s at his expense.

• incredibly attentive to your needs—he notices when you’re tired, stressed, or upset, and does everything he can to help.

• he’s not big on public displays of affection but will always find little ways to show you’re his, like resting his hand on your lower back or standing close enough for your shoulders to touch.

• gets flustered when you compliment him, especially if you call him handsome or clever—he’ll roll his eyes, but his pink cheeks give him away.

• he’s not perfect and sometimes lashes out when he’s stressed, but he’s quick to apologize and make it up to you.

• when he says he loves you, it’s rare but deeply meaningful—you can tell he means it with everything he has.

• despite his flaws, he’s fiercely loyal, endlessly protective, and wholly yours, doing everything he can to make you feel loved.

blaise zabini as your boyfriend:

• effortlessly smooth and confident, he doesn’t even need to try to charm you—it’s just who he is.

• the king of subtle but meaningful gestures, like holding doors open for you, pulling out your chair, or placing his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd.

• loves to spoil you, but in a classy, understated way—think fine chocolate, rare books, or spontaneous weekend getaways.

• very private about your relationship; he keeps most of his affection behind closed doors but isn’t shy about letting people know you’re his.

• gives the best advice; he’s incredibly perceptive and always knows the right thing to say when you’re stressed or upset.

• he’s not big on loud, over-the-top displays of affection, but his actions always show how much he cares—he’s the type to quietly take care of things before you even ask.

• loves watching you talk about something you’re passionate about; he’ll rest his chin in his hand and just admire you with a soft smile.

• has a wicked sense of humor and loves teasing you, but it’s always playful and never hurtful—he secretly loves when you tease him back.

• he’s the epitome of cool, calm, and collected, but you’re the only one who can fluster him when you catch him off guard with affection or a well-timed compliment.

• ridiculously good at remembering details about you, like your favorite drink, your childhood stories, or even the exact shade of your favorite lipstick.

• loves to keep you close—whether it’s casually draping an arm over your shoulder or pulling you into his lap when you’re alone together.

• fiercely protective but subtle about it; one look from him is enough to make anyone second-guess bothering you.

• will casually drop compliments about you in conversations with his friends, but if they tease him about being soft, he just smirks and doesn’t deny it.

• he’s a fantastic listener and always makes you feel like you’re the most important person in the room when you’re talking to him.

• takes immense pride in how you carry yourself and always reminds you of how incredible you are, even if you don’t see it yourself.

• adores dressing up for dates with you and insists on coordinating outfits so you both look effortlessly elegant together.

• late nights with him often involve deep conversations, a bottle of wine, and a lot of soft touches as he shares pieces of himself he doesn’t show anyone else.

• has a surprisingly tender side—he’ll hold you close when you’re feeling down, whispering reassurances that everything will be okay.

• he’s all about balance: the perfect mix of suave, playful, and deeply caring, making you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

[heliosunny]

Could I please request yandere lucky egg for zhongli or capitano? (Capitano plsssssssssssssss)

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Capitano x Reader

You stared at the unmoving egg in your hands, brows furrowed.

It had been three days. Three days of waiting, watching, and even whispering to it—just in case. But nothing. No signs of life, no cracks, not even a single wobble.

“…Maybe it’s just a weird rock?”

Still, your curiosity refused to let you throw it away. It was heavy, warm, and honestly, something about it unsettled you. But that wasn’t going to stop you from testing a theory.

So, with the kind of logic only sheer boredom could provide, you set up a pan, turned on the heat, and carefully placed the egg in.

The moment the pan got hot, the egg shuddered.

You barely had time to register that before a deep crack split the shell.

“Oh, fu—”

BOOM

A sudden explosion of dark energy sent you flying back, only for something much heavier to crash directly on top of you. You gasped as your back hit the floor, and a wave of heat radiated from the figure pinning you down.

Blinking through the daze, you found yourself staring up at a man—tall, broad, and very much not an egg.

“You… were trying to cook me?”

Instead of replying, you asked him multiple questions.

"Who are you?"

"Where did you come from?"

"Why were you in an egg?"

But all you got were vague, unsettling responses.

"I don't remember much" he admitted, adjusting the gloves on his hands. "Only that I was waiting... for you."

That didn't make you feel any less concerned.

After some back and forth—mostly you trying to make sense of things while he kept staring at you like you hung the stars—you decided he needed a bath. He was covered in remnants of whatever strange energy surrounded him when he hatched, and honestly, you needed a moment to process everything.

You directed him to the bath and handed him a towel and some spare clothes.

"You wish for me to cleanse myself?"

"Uh, yeah? Unless you want to keep smelling like a burnt egg."

"As you wish."

When he finally emerged from the bathroom, steam trailing behind him. His wet hair clung to his skin, and the loose clothing you lent him only made him look more dangerous, less armored but no less imposing.

However, your eyes quickly caught on to something—his hand. A fresh wound, jagged and slightly bleeding, marred his palm.

"Wait, you're hurt."

Before he could react, you grabbed a first-aid kit and motioned for him to sit. He obeyed surprisingly easily.

"You shouldn’t ignore injuries, you know." you muttered, wrapping the bandage snugly around his hand.

The entire time, he didn't flinch. If anything, his focus was solely on you.

"You care for me"

"Yeah, well, you did just hatch out of an egg in my kitchen."

As you finished bandaging his hand, your gaze drifted to his long, damp hair. It cascaded over his shoulders in dark waves.

"You should tie your hair up" you suggested, reaching for a hair tie. "It'll get in the way otherwise."

He studied you for a moment before giving a nod.

You weren’t expecting him to be so agreeable, but you took the chance to gather his hair and carefully tie it back.

Once done, you stepped back, admiring your work. "There. Much better."

He lifted a hand to touch his tied hair, then let out a hum of approval. "I’ll allow you to tend to me as you see fit."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, lucky me."

But deep down, you weren’t sure if bringing another person into your life was a good idea. Your job already kept you busy enough, and now you had to deal with… him.

For now, though, you decided he could stay. At least until you figured out what exactly he was.

Pulling out your phone, you quickly texted your best friend, Jollie.

You: Hey, uh… I just hatched a grown man from an egg.

Jollie’s reply was almost instant.

Jollie: I’m sorry, what.

You: Long story. He’s got long hair, and I tied it up, but you’d probably do a better job. Wanna come over later?

Jollie: I’m dropping everything. Be there soon.

You sighed, pocketing your phone. You had no idea how you were going to explain this, but at least you wouldn’t be dealing with it alone.

An hour later, Jollie arrived, practically bursting through the door.

"Alright, where’s the egg-man?" she demanded, hands on her hips.

You gestured toward Capitano, who sat stiffly in a chair, watching her with unwavering intensity. He had barely moved since you last spoke.

"Huh. Wasn't expecting him to be this tall."

"Yeah, well, try convincing him to let you cut his hair."

Jollie smirked and pulled out her scissors. "No problem. I deal with stubborn warriors all the time."

The moment she stepped closer, however, Capitano’s demeanor shifted. His eyes darkened, and his presence became suffocating. He didn’t move, but the threat was clear.

Jollie froze mid-step. "...Okay, never mind. Not a fan of personal space being invaded. Got it."

"Capitano-that's what he called himself-, she’s just going to clean up your hair." you said

His gaze flickered to you, and after a long pause, he finally relented. "...Fine."

Jollie sighed in relief and got to work, carefully trimming the ends to keep it neat without taking too much off. But the real shock came when she snipped a slightly longer piece—only for it to immediately grow back.

You gawked. "Wait, what?"

Jollie stepped back, staring at the scissors like they betrayed her. "Well, that’s new."

Capitano, completely unfazed, turned his attention back to you. "I prefer it when you tie my hair."

"...That doesn’t explain why it grew back instantly!"

"It just does."

Jollie let out a whistle. "Man, if I had hair like that, I’d never have to worry about bad hair days."

While she finished up, Capitano’s sharp eyes suddenly landed on the ring on her hand. He studied it for a moment before speaking.

"What is that?" He motioned toward the ring. "And where can I get one?"

Jollie blinked, then laughed. "This? It’s a wedding ring. It means I’m married."

Capitano turned to you, "...And if I wanted one?"

"What—"

Jollie smirked, already sensing way too much in his tone. "Oh? Thinking of proposing already?"

Capitano didn’t answer. He just kept his gaze on you, as if calculating something.

You groaned, covering your face. "I should’ve left you in the egg."

---

Being a chef meant you spent most of your time in the kitchen, away from the bustling tavern floor. You only stepped out when a guest specifically asked to meet the person behind their meal. Over time, you’d gathered a few fans—regulars who praised your cooking a little too enthusiastically. It was flattering, sure, but you never thought much of it.

Capitano, however, did.

You had insisted he stay home, especially since he still didn’t fully understand how things worked around here. But come evening, when Jollie arrived to pick you up after your shift, Capitano had tagged along.

A small group of guests had gathered around you near the kitchen entrance. One leaned a little too close, complimenting your skills with an almost flirtatious edge.

"You know, if you ever get tired of cooking here, I’d love to have a personal chef like you"

Another chimed in. "Seriously, your food alone is worth traveling back for. But the chef themself? Even better."

You laughed, waving off the comments. "Alright, alright, I get it. You like my food. Now eat before it gets cold."

That was when you felt it—an oppressive weight in the air.

Capitano was watching.

Jollie was the first to notice,"Uh, you might wanna do something before he commits a crime."

You turned just in time to see him striding forward.

The guests, oblivious to who exactly he was, paused as he loomed behind you.

Capitano's hand suddenly found your waist, pulling you firmly against him.

"You belong to me."

Jollie sighed, already sensing the storm brewing. "Welp. That’s my cue to drag him out before he starts growling."

The moment you stepped outside the tavern, Capitano was still brooding. His grip on your wrist hadn’t loosened since he practically dragged you away from the guests.

Jollie, walking beside you, let out an exhausted sigh. “You have to do something about him, or one day, we’re gonna find your guests mysteriously missing.”

“Alright, what the hell was that?”

“They were too close.”

“That’s not a crime, Capitano. People like my food. That’s it.”

“They like you.”

“Oh, wow, what a shocking revelation. People like the person who feeds them.” You yanked your wrist free and turned to face him fully. “Listen, I cannot have you acting like that in my workplace.”

“I work in the kitchen. That means I only come out when needed. If people start thinking I have some jealous, looming bodyguard around, it’s gonna ruin everything. What if my boss bans me from interacting with guests? What if people stop coming?”

You didn't finish.

“And if that happens? We starve. I lose my job, I can’t buy food, and you can’t mooch off my cooking anymore.”

For once, that actually made him pause.

Jollie snickered. “You should’ve just led with that. Man eats like he’s preparing for war.”

You crossed your arms. “So? Are you gonna stop being like that?”

“...I don’t like them looking at you.”

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to tolerate it.”

“…Fine.”

Jollie gave you an impressed nod. “Damn. You actually tamed him.”

“Let’s just get home before he finds something else to be mad about.”

That night, as always, Capitano laid beside you, his hand firmly clasped around yours. You had no idea why he insisted on holding your hand in his sleep, but the few times you tried to pull away, he would stir, grip tightening as if you were the only thing anchoring him. Eventually, you just gave up and let it happen.

Jollie, of course, was horrified when she found out.

“You what?” she practically screeched when you mentioned it the next morning.

“It’s not like that! He just—he won’t sleep unless I’m there.”

Jollie gave you the most skeptical look. “Oh sure, totally normal. Just a grown man who hatched from an egg refusing to sleep unless he’s holding your hand.”

“I tried to sleep separately, but he wouldn’t let go.”

Jollie sighed, shaking her head. “This guy is down bad.”

You ignored her teasing, but you did realize something—Capitano still didn’t have proper clothes. Up until now, you’d just been giving him whatever you could gather—old clothes from friends, random pieces from your closet. He didn’t seem to care what he wore, but still, you figured it was time to fix that.

So, on your next free day, you took him shopping.

The marketplace was lively, filled with stalls of various goods, but you were focused on getting Capitano real clothes. You led him to a clothing stall, where a gorgeous woman greeted you with a warm smile.

“Welcome! Looking for something specific?”

You paused, briefly stunned. Wow. She’s hot.

You glanced at Capitano, then back at the woman. Wait. Wouldn’t they look good together?

Grinning, you nudged him. “Hey… you like her, huh?”

He said nothing. Didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he just stood there, waiting.

“Wow. Tough crowd.”

Shrugging, you began picking out clothes for him. Every time you held something up, he took it without complaint and changed into it. You threw jackets, shirts, pants at him, fully expecting him to reject something—but he wore everything you recommended without hesitation.

The shopkeeper laughed. “Most guys are picky, but he’s letting you dress him up like a doll.”

“You’re really just gonna wear whatever I tell you to?”

“If it pleases you.”

After a long shopping trip, you finally settled on a decent outfit for Capitano. A dark coat with fitted sleeves, a high-collared shirt, and well-tailored pants—it suited him.

You gave him a once-over. “Huh. You actually look… handsome, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Don’t push it.”

With that done, you figured things would return to normal—well, as normal as they could be with an egg-man living in your home. But something kept nagging at you.

His wound.

Ever since you first bandaged his hand, it hadn’t healed. You had to change the bandages often, and while he never complained, it was weird. Even small cuts should’ve at least started closing by now.

As you carefully replaced the bandage that evening, you frowned. “This should be gone by now.”

“It does not pain me.”

“That’s not the point. Why isn’t it healing?”

He was silent for a long moment before murmuring, “I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t remember.”

Something about the way he said it made you question if that was true—or if he was just refusing to tell you.

----

At first, having an intern wasn’t so bad. Lirienne was quick to learn, efficient, and didn’t need much guidance. You figured training her would be easy—maybe even helpful in the long run.

What you didn’t know was that she had other plans.

She wasn’t here to assist you. She wanted to replace you.

Of course, you didn’t notice at first. You were busy keeping the kitchen running, ensuring everything was perfect. But Capitano? He noticed.

He had already become your unofficial shadow, lingering around the kitchen even when he wasn’t supposed to.

And that’s how he caught on.

“Lirienne, be more careful next time. If I hadn’t caught that in time, the dish would’ve been ruined.”

She bowed her head slightly, expression apologetic. “I’m so sorry! I don’t know how that happened. It won’t happen again.”

You sighed, waving it off. “It’s fine, just focus.”

Lirienne was careful, never making obvious mistakes, but Capitano saw the small things. Ingredients placed too close to the fire. Unstable stacks of plates positioned near the edge of counters. Subtle miscalculations in orders that could be blamed on you.

She was setting you up.

And though you remained oblivious, Capitano was already planning how to deal with her.

“She’s setting you up.”

You paused mid-motion, turning to him. “What?”

“The intern.” His voice was certain. “She’s creating accidents and letting you take the blame.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would she—”

“To take your place.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the way he looked at you made you hesitate. Capitano wasn’t the type to make baseless accusations.

“Do you trust me?”

Capitano had been by your side since the day he hatched. He didn’t lie. If he said something, he meant it.

“…Yes” you admitted.

“Then be careful.”

You wanted to believe Lirienne was just clumsy. That she was just adjusting to the kitchen.

But if Capitano was right, then this was only the beginning.

Days passed, and despite Capitano’s warning, you tried to convince yourself that things weren’t that bad. Sure, Lirienne was suspicious, but outright trying to sabotage you? Maybe Capitano was being overprotective.

That illusion shattered the night you were walking home.

The streets were quieter than usual, the distant hum of taverns and late-night chatter fading as you took your usual route. You were halfway there when two men stepped out of a nearby alley, blocking your path.

You stopped “Can I help you?”

They didn’t answer. One of them took a slow step forward, cracking his knuckles.

“You’re the chef from that tavern, yeah?”

You took a cautious step back, but before you could turn, they lunged.

And then—a blur of movement. A rush of wind.

The next thing you knew, a broom had swung through the air, slamming into one of the men’s heads with enough force to send him stumbling. The second man barely had time to react before Capitano spun the broom in his hands like a trained weapon, jabbing the handle hard into his stomach. The man doubled over with a wheeze before Capitano kicked him to the ground.

The first guy tried to reach for a hidden knife. Capitano didn’t give him the chance. With a sharp twirl, the broom’s bristles smacked him across the face, sending him crashing onto the pavement.

“Are you hurt?”

“You—with a broom?”

He looked down at the slightly crooked handle, then back at you. “It was within reach.”

These guys weren’t random muggers. They knew who you were.

And if Capitano hadn’t been here…

Capitano didn’t need to hear you say it—he knew what you were thinking. He could see it in the way your hands clenched, in the furrow of your brow.

You were worried. And that was unacceptable.

So, while you slept that night, completely unaware, Capitano made his move.

Stalking wasn’t new to him. Tracking someone’s habits, their movements, their weaknesses—it was as natural to him as breathing. Lirienne was no different. She was arrogant, thinking she could eliminate you without consequences.

Getting into her home was easy. He could’ve ended it right then and there. But that wasn’t enough. No, she needed to suffer.

So he made it look like a robbery. Tossed her belongings, shattered a few things. Let her wake up to a scene of chaos before he moved to the next step.

Her close friends—anyone she might rely on—received anonymous threats. Carefully crafted blackmail, things that made them too scared to associate with her.

By the time Lirienne realized she was being hunted, it was too late. Capitano had already buried her in paranoia.

With Lirienne gone, things returned to normal—or at least, as normal as they could be. Your worries faded, and you could finally focus on your job without looking over your shoulder.

One evening, after a long shift, you decided to take Capitano out for a drink. It had been a while since you both relaxed.

But when you got home, you found him asleep on the couch, the dim glow of the TV flickering across his face.

You sighed, shaking your head fondly. Big scary man, knocked out on the couch like a cat in a sunbeam.

Grabbing the remote, you turned off the TV. At first, you thought you imagined it. But then he mumbled again, voice low, almost pained.

“Don’t… leave…”

You crouched beside him, watching as his brows furrowed ever so slightly. His breathing was steady, but his body was tense—like even in his sleep, he was holding onto something.

You hesitated before reaching out, placing a hand on his. His grip relaxed slightly, and his shoulders eased.

You swallowed. Maybe… taking him out for a drink could wait.

You stayed crouched beside him, watching his sleeping face, his quiet breaths filling the silence.

Then, just as you were about to pull your hand away—

“…Failed… again…”

Failed? Again?

That—didn’t sound like something he would say. Capitano wasn’t the type to speak of failure. He carried himself with unwavering confidence, like a man who never wavered.

So what was he dreaming about?

Your thoughts were cut short as his breathing shifted, deeper now, heavier. His fingers twitched again before his eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted to you.

“…You’re awake”

“You’re still here.”

“Where else would I be?” you scoffed lightly, trying to shake the strange feeling. “C’mon, you’re sleeping on the couch again. Let’s get you to bed.”

As you led him to the bedroom, you couldn’t help but glance back at him.

Failed again.

Failed what?

The words lingered in your mind long after Capitano had fallen asleep again, this time properly in bed. You sat on the edge, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, trying to piece together what it meant.

Capitano had no memories of his past—at least, that’s what he claimed. But sometimes, things slipped through the cracks. Little moments, little murmurs. You hadn’t questioned them before, thinking they were just remnants of something long gone.

But now?

You couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in your gut.

Had he been someone before? Was there something he wasn’t telling you—or worse, something he didn’t even remember himself?

Carefully, you reached out, tracing your fingers over his bandaged hand. The wound that never healed. Another mystery.

Maybe it was time to start looking for answers.

The next morning, you woke up with Capitano’s hand still in yours. At some point in the night, he had shifted closer.

You needed answers.

But where would you even start?

Capitano didn’t remember much—or at least, that’s what he said. And you doubted he would suddenly recall everything if you just asked him outright. But there had to be something to go off.

The wound that wouldn’t heal. The way his hair grew back instantly. The strange strength and reflexes he showed when he fought off those men. Even the way he had hatched from that egg instead of being born normally—everything about him was unnatural.

And yet, he didn’t seem concerned about it.

You exhaled, slowly slipping your hand from his. As much as you wanted to shake him awake and demand answers, you knew that wasn’t going to work.

So instead, you would do what you did best—observe.

That day, you started paying closer attention.

You watched how Capitano moved, how he interacted with the world around him. He didn’t seem lost or confused like someone who had lost their memory—he carried himself with the confidence of a man who knew who he was.

But sometimes, little things slipped.

Like how he instinctively reached for a weapon he didn’t have when startled. Or how he watched battles with an almost detached familiarity, as if he had seen a thousand of them before.

And then there was the way he spoke.

You had never really thought about it before, but Capitano’s words—his mannerisms—felt old. Like he wasn’t just from another place, but another time.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore.

That evening, as you bandaged his hand yet again, you finally spoke.

“…What do you think you failed at?”

His eyes met yours. “What?”

You hesitated, but there was no point in backing down now. “You said something in your sleep. Failed again.”

His grip on the edge of the table tightened slightly. “…I don’t remember.”

“Capitano,” you murmured, tightening the last part of the bandage. “If there’s something I should know, just tell me.”

“…If I had failed, would you leave me?”

“What?”

“If I was a failure,” he repeated, voice quieter this time, “would you still stay?”

You didn’t know what he had failed at—what his past even was. But looking at him now, waiting for your answer like it mattered more than anything, you knew one thing for sure.

“…You’re not a failure to me.”

“…Then that’s enough.”

It wasn’t the answer you wanted. It didn’t explain anything. But for now, it was all he was willing to give.

-----

The moment you got the news, everything around you blurred into nothing.

Jollie was dead.

You didn’t remember how you got home. Your feet carried you there, but your mind wasn’t present. The words repeated in your head over and over, but they refused to make sense. She was just here. She was supposed to visit soon. We were supposed to talk again. She can’t be...

You locked the door behind you and didn’t leave.

You ignored your phone, the messages piling up, the calls that went unanswered. Eating, working, even moving���none of it mattered. The weight in your chest was suffocating, pressing down until you couldn’t breathe.

The kitchen felt cold. The thought of stepping inside, of cooking anything, felt wrong. Jollie had been the one person who always demanded a taste test, who teased you about your "serious chef face" while you worked. Without her, even your passion felt empty.

Capitano stayed.

He didn’t leave your side, not even once. He didn’t force you to talk, didn’t try to shake you out of it. He just remained—a quiet, unmoving figure watching over you.

Even when you curled up in bed, staring blankly at the wall, he was there. When you sat at the table without touching your food, he stood nearby. And when the grief finally cracked, when the tears came without warning, his hand found yours, firm and grounding.

Jollie was gone. And you didn’t know how to move forward.

Capitano had never been one to sit idly by.

Watching you waste away in your grief, locked inside, refusing to eat, to move—it was unacceptable. If you couldn’t pull yourself out of it, then he would do it for you.

And that meant finding the truth.

Jollie’s death wasn’t random. Capitano could feel it in his bones—there was something off about it.

His first step was gathering information. People talked, especially when they thought no one important was listening. Capitano stalked the streets at night, blending into the shadows, eavesdropping in places you wouldn’t dare step foot in.

And soon enough, the pieces started falling into place.

Jollie’s husband.

A man drowning in debt. A man who had more than one mistress tucked away in secret corners of the city. A man who had everything to lose if Jollie ever decided to leave him and take what little wealth they had left.

Capitano dug deeper.

The debts weren’t small. The lenders he owed money to weren’t the forgiving type. If he didn’t pay, he wouldn’t live long enough to see another day.

And then, there it was—the final piece. Capitano uncovered the exchange. The bribe. The order.

Jollie’s husband had arranged it himself. Paid to have her eliminated.

Once Capitano had everything he needed, he didn’t act immediately. No—he brought you with him.

You had resisted at first, still drained, still lost in your grief. But he didn’t give you a choice. He made you come, guiding you through the dark streets until you arrived at a secluded meeting spot.

There, Jollie’s husband was waiting.

The proof was laid out before you. The debts. The mistresses. The transaction. Everything that led to Jollie’s death.

You could hardly breathe.

“You decide” Capitano told you, “What happens to him?”

You wanted to hate him. Wanted to scream, to lash out. But in the end, you couldn’t bring yourself to be cruel.

“…Just turn him in” you whispered. “Let the authorities deal with him.”

Capitano stared at you for a long moment before nodding. Without another word, he took you home.

You thought it was over. You thought you had done the right thing, made the right choice.

But Capitano knew better.

Men like Jollie’s husband didn’t deserve mercy.

And so, later that night, without your knowledge, Capitano paid him a final visit.

By morning, Jollie’s husband was gone. No one would ever find the body.

And you?

You would never know.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you could breathe again.

Jollie was gone, and that pain would never truly fade—but knowing the truth, knowing she was free from the man who betrayed her, brought a strange sense of peace.

Capitano stood beside you. He had done more than just watch over you—he had acted. He had carried you through your darkest moment without hesitation.

And as the weight on your chest finally lightened, Capitano made a silent vow to himself.

From this day forward, he would stay by your side. To protect you. To ensure your happiness. To be the one constant you could rely on.

Jollie may have left a void, but Capitano would make sure you were never alone again.