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#3. hurry scurry
sharkrocket · 1 year
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But her large eyes with furrowed brow followed him as she tried to get comfortable in her clean bed. He eyed her in turn as he covered her with two new blankets.
He wanted to give a sigh, because he knew what that frown meant. But he didn’t; he would have given her his answer before he even asked the question with that.
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright.”
Draw inspired by Plaguedboar’s fic Oranges and Lemons! We’ll turn this Bachelor into a dad yet  😭💕
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buckyalpine · 6 months
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Imagine CEO!Bucky accidently taking his anger out on his already stressed out secretary. He gets mean and you will deal with it because I wanted this angst turned smut to go from chest itching to stomach fluttering. 
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Your stomach twisted in knots looking at the pile of papers you had stacked on your desk, the phone still ringing while new messages popped up in your email inbox every 5 minutes. The files had to be organized by the next meeting and the number on the phone display was one you couldn’t ignore. The back to back messages were from various investors, each person insisting they were a priority over the others. You kept the receiver between your ear and shoulder, your hands flying around your desk madly between papers and tapping your keyboard. 
You quickly added a few more meetings to the calendar before hurrying to your bosses office to remind him of one he had later that afternoon. You hesitated before knocking at the door, the closed doors indicating he was busy, but you knew he’d want a heads up about the meeting. 
“Mr. Barnes, you have a meeting with Stark Enterprises at 3:30-
“Didn’t I tell you to move this meeting to next week?” Bucky snapped, blue eyes glaring at you while you blinked in confusion. “Well?” 
“N-no” You shook your head, you’d never missed an email before and you’d always been on top of scheduling changes on time. Bucky mumbled something under his breath before waving you off, the shrill sound of his phone going off. 
“Barnes” Bucky grunted, answering the phone without looking back at you, leaving to you scramble away and figure out if you could rearrange the date with Tony Stark. 
Which was a mess in itself. 
You had to argue back and forth, pleading to no end for a different day with Starks assistant only reluctantly agreeing after nearly half an hour. 
“You really should be more responsible, can’t believe Barnes has the likes of you working under him” the woman on the phone clicked her tongue before slamming down the receiver, cutting the call. You sighed, taking in a deep breath to calm the tightness you felt in your throat, you didn’t have time to break down now. 
You printed the up coming contracts for Bucky to sign, organizing them by name and highlighting the places he had to sign so he didn’t have to bother finding the space for signatures. You scurried back into his office, dreading the tense click of his jaw, your nerves increasing even more. 
“Sir, these are your papers-” You stumbled over the corner of the rug, scattering the papers onto the floor, your heart hammering out of your chest when you saw Bucky irritatedly run his fingers through his hair. 
“For fucks sake, y/n, I’m already stressed, don’t screw more shit up!” He growled, eyes hardening at the sight of the papers strewn across the floor of his office while you stayed frozen on the spot. Your eyes glossed over, quickly scrambling to the floor to grab the documents, mumbling apologies over and over again, hoping none of your tears stained the paper. The sight of tears streaking down your face broke Bucky out of his frustrated state, instantly regretting the tone he’d used with you. 
“Fuck” Bucky cursed under his breath, getting out of his chair to help you but you’d already managed to pick everything up, immediately trying to scramble away.
“Y/n” 
You didn’t stop, unable to take more of Bucky’s wrath, continuing to hurry towards the door, desperately trying to hold down your sniffles and aggressively wiping your cheeks. 
“Y/n” 
Bucky sighed, gently reaching out to grab your arm and pulling you to face him, his feeling even worse when you kept your eyes trained on the floor, your arms wrapped around yourself. 
“I’m sorry, p-please d-on’t yell” You choked out, still trying to hold your composure together, fighting the way your body wanted to break down into sobs 
“It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry” his heart broke seeing the tears collecting in your lash line, his thumb swiping away the ones that spilled out. “M’sorry baby” he wasn’t sure where the pet name came from but he couldn’t help it, letting it naturally roll off his tongue. You were still rigid, refusing to look at him, nearly flinching when he pulled you closer, tilting your chin up to meet his steel blues. 
“Look at me” He spoke softly now, as if he were trying to coax a small animal out of hiding, his touch gentle, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you”
“It’s okay” you shrugged, slipping out of his hold, quickly wiping your face and going back to work as if nothing had happened. Even though he’d apologized, his words rang through your mind for the rest of the day. 
In fact, they stuck with you through the entire week. 
Bucky hated the way you didn’t even look at him anymore. He missed your soft good mornings and shy smile whenever he walked into his office. Now all you did was keep your head down, freezing in fear as soon as you heard his footsteps. And it was all his fault. 
He despised that he made you feel scared of him, his own anger being the cause of upsetting you when you had been nothing but sweet from the day he’d met you. You were also the best he’d ever had; no one else had ever come close to how brilliantly you worked; you never missed anything. He nearly spat out the coffee that was placed on his table, missing the perfect cup you made for him every morning. 
You only spoke 1-2 words, retreating from his office as soon as you got what you needed, your eyes always trained on the floor, looking away from him. He couldn’t take it anymore, feeling more guilty each day; he couldn’t go on any longer without your sweetness. 
You blinked at the baby pink roses that sat in a basket on your desk along with a little bear placed on top, a small hand made I’m Sorry heart sitting in its furry hands, clearly in Bucky’s handwriting. You traced over the soft teddy holding it in your hands before going to his office. Before you could say anything, Bucky was up and out of his seat, desperately hoping you’d hear him out. 
“M’sorry y/n” His soft eyes were filled with sadness and regret as he reached out to hold your hands in his, not wanting you to run off again, “I’m so sorry angel, there’s no excuse, I shouldn’t have yelled at you” 
“It’s fine” You whispered, still avoiding his gaze. 
“Hey, it’s not fine” Bucky shook his head, cupping your face to make you look at him, “It’s not baby, I shouldn’t have ever treated you that way. You do everything for me, I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you” 
“I shouldn’t have messed u-
“Don’t, absolutely not. You never do sweets, it was me who messed up. Never you. Will you forgive me, doll?” Bucky nervously bit his lip while you gave him a small nod, that adorable shy smile he loved so much making its way to your lips. 
“God, I missed this” He whispered, his thumb tracing over your lips, chuckling at the tiny confused pout you gave him after.
“What did you miss” 
“This little smile you always have whenever you’re around me” Bucky smirked at the way you grew more bashful, doe eyes darting about, “Do you have any idea how much I love when you look at me like that?” 
“Mr-Mr. Barnes” Your breath hitched in your throat as his hands slowly moved to hold your waist, pulling you closer. Your hands made their way to his chest to ground yourself, forgetting how to breathe as he pressed his lips against yours. It started off soft and slow; his sweet tongue turning sinful as he walked over to his chair, pulling you to straddle him without breaking apart once. You let out a needy whimper feeling him harden under you though Bucky was still focused on kissing your soft skin, his lips fluttering across every inch. 
You’d never been this close to Bucky before, the intoxicating scent of his cologne making your heart race, his calloused large hands roaming your body. You hadn’t even realized you were grinding down on his thick bulge until he let out a groan, stilling your hips. 
“Keep that up bunny and you’ll make me cum in my pants like a little boy” Bucky let out a strained chuckle, using every bit of his self restraint not to tear your clothes off. 
“Please?” You wiggled against him again, needing to be closer, Bucky’s resolve slowly crumbling. How could he hold back when you were practically humping your soaked needy cunt right on his erection. 
“Please what, sweets” 
“Need you Sir” your voice had melted in a whine and that was all it took. The sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor caused more arousal to dampen your panties, nearly drooling at the sight of his cock as he pulled it out. 
“Are-are you sure?” He checked with you once more, not wasting a second ripping your blouse off as soon as you nodded. He threw your bra off next before lifting your skirt up and pulling your panties to the, rubbing his fingers through your folds. 
“Sir, pleasee” 
“I got you, I got you baby. Wanted to make love for our first time angel, give you a bed with rose petals n’ champagne over ice” He whispered, recounting every fantasy he’d thought of from the day he’d met you, “Wanted to make you feel good baby, throw your legs over my shoulders and nurse off this little clit”
He rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves, continuing. 
“N’ then you’d be my sweet pillow princess. I’d let you lie down all night while I fuck your soul angel. I’d give you my cum all night, pump you full of my cream” 
“Need you now” You whimpered, clutching onto the lapels of his blazer, not that you didn’t want everything he was telling you but you couldn't wait. 
“Alright baby, c’mere” He pulled you closer, your bare chest pressed against his as he rubbed his swollen cockhead to gather your slick before breeching your tight hole, his hips gently pushing up till he was buried to the hilt, “That’s it, shhh take all of me” 
Bucky gave you a second to adjust to his size, his wide hands splayed across your body to hold you in place as he began to thrust up. You gasped in pleasure, your voice melting into a moan as he picked you up and placed you on his desk, pushing your thighs to hit your chest, hitting an even deeper angel. 
“OH GOD-MR-BARNES” You wailed as he fucked you harder, his heard thrown back, tie loosened, tightening the grip he had on your legs, keeping you spread out wide open. He groaned at the sight of his thick cock disappearing in and out of you while you moaned and sobbed on his desk, taking everything he gave you. 
“That’s right baby, say my name, let everyone know who makes you feel this good” He grunted through gritted teeth, holding off his orgasm while bringing his thumb to rub your clit again. 
“I-I’m gonna-OH-GOD-PLEASEE
“Fuck you sound perfect” Bucky moaned feeling you choke his length, fluttering and pulling him deeper as your orgasm washed over you, his own release dangerously close. “God you feel so fuckin’ good when you cum baby. One more angel, just one more” Bucky practically pleaded with you, speeding up his fingers till he saw your eyes roll back, silent screams leaving your mouth as your juices soaked his balls. 
“Fuck m’cumming so hard for you baby” He groaned, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling and spilling ropes of cum into you. He kept his cock inside while bending down to pick you up and sit back in his chair again. He sat with you for a while, petting your hair and kissing you, whispering sweet nothings. 
“Ready to go?” He whispered, looking down to see if you’d fallen asleep while you snuggled into him with your eyes closed. 
“Too tired sir” You pouted, nuzzling into his chest, refusing to move, your body too fucked out to even stand. 
“I got you baby” Bucky smiled, shrugging off his blazer and wrapping you up before carrying you away in his arms, ready to take you home, right where you belonged “Gonna make love to my pretty girl” 
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tootiecakes234 · 2 months
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“Hey Katsuki”, you scream from the your bedroom.
“What” he yells back at you from somewhere else in the house.
“Where ya at?”
“In the game room.”
So you get up and head that way. When you enter he’s sat in his gaming chair with his headset on.
“Hey bub…. Hey guys” you say loud enough to be heard through his headset.
“Yea yea. They all said hey.” You knew Kirishima and Kaminari were on the other end. Maybe even Mina too cuz she wasn’t texting you back.
“Kit-Kat, I’m getting hungry. Do you know what sounds really good for dinner?”
“What?” he questions without taking his eyes off the screen.
You walk behind him and slide your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the back of his head. You’re trying to butter him up because you know he’s not gonna wanna make what you’re craving.
“You remember those dumplings you made from scratch a while ago?” You ask with your voice dripping in as much sweetness you can muster.
“No.”
“No you don’t remember or no you’re-“
And he interrupt you before you can even finish. “No im not cooking that. There are frozen dumplings in the fridge.”
“But Sukiiiiii, those aren’t as good as the ones you make. The flavors aren’t the same and yours are so crispy and doughy. Pleaaasseee.”
“Hey you assholes shut the hell up. No ones talking to you.” He responds to his friends in the headset. “You want her to have ‘em, bring your ass over and make ‘em”
“I’m not doing this. You idiots hold on.” And he pauses the game and turns around to face you and removes his head set.
“Look we can order takeout if you want, but I’m not about to make freakin dumplings from scratch cuz you have a craving. I’d have to go to the store and get ingredients and taking the time to make the wrappings. ‘S too much.” He tries to explain to you in a rational way .
“I knooowww…. I’d go to the store with you though and I’ll help you make them…. Pretty please” you whine and stick you lowere lip out just a little with your eyes as pleading as you can make them.
Katsuki rolls his eyes and throws his head back.
“You don’t get whatever you want just because you pout at me. Spoiled ass. Not today. Maybe sometime later this week.”
You didn’t actually think he’d tell you no. He usually never does. Maybe you are spoiled. Still makes you sad though.
So you put on your big girl pants, tuck your lip back in and give him a soft “ok” before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips so he knows you’re not upset with him.
He is allowed to say no.
“Is Mina on the game with you guys?” You ask him when you pull back.
“Yeah she is.”
“When you get back on can you tell her to stop being a bitch and answer my phone call. I have tea to spill.”
“I’ll tell her.”
And with that you head toward the door and leave.
Once you’re back in your room it takes Mina about 3 minutes to call you and you start catching her up on everything.
You guys stay on the phone for about 30 minutes before she has to go.
After that, you bury yourself in the blankets and start reading the manga you had lying on your nightstand.
Before you can really get into it, Katsuki is walking into your room and going into the closet.
“Get your ass outta bed and get dressed before I change my goddamn mind.”
“What?” You ask because now you’re confused.
“You said you were gonna go to the store with me to buy all this shit so get your ass up and let’s go.”
“Kats you don’t have to, it’s fine.”
“Look ya spoiled brat, if I gotta tell you to get up one more time we are gonna be in here fightin.”
And the smile that breaks out on your face. You hurry and get outta bed and rush him. “Awwwww my sweet boy”
“I swear to god, I’m this close to letting your ass starve.”
And you wrap your arms around him and start kissing everywhere on his face. When you pulled away he has a deep frown on his face but you can see the sparkle in his eyes that he gets when you’re super happy.
You pull away and scurry off to get dressed.
He really needs to start saying no to you and meaning it before you really lose the understanding of the word.
Katsuki Masterlist
Tags: @dreamcastgirl99
*if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know💕
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ozzgin · 4 months
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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader
I've been plagued by this idea for a while, so let me know what you think! This is just the character introduction. Your new landlord is a Yakuza boss, and his scary looking underling has been tasked to deal with your tenant needs! Although he didn't expect you to be this cute. And you didn't expect him to be this unhinged.
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]
Content: Female reader, violence, mentions of stalking
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This was the last straw.
You're angrily stuffing your suitcase with necessities before the moving company arrives. Each glimpse around the cramped apartment fills you with outrage, as you're still heavily shaken from the events of last night. 
You first begun to suspect you might have a stalker when you found your outer lock with a fresh dent in it. You then picked a small scrap from the ground nearby and assumed it was leftover damage, but upon further inspection you discovered, disgusted, that it was part of your peephole. Someone must've fiddled with your door a fair amount. You tried to approach your immediate neighbors for help, but they either refused to answer your persistent knocks or downright scurried away when faced with your questions. They didn't want to deal with a foreigner. 
You tried to put it behind you. The police advised you to be cautions, as there was nothing else they could do without concrete evidence. And thankfully, you had several peaceful weeks following the incident. Last night you were suddenly awakened by faint scratches coming from your balcony. You groggily got up and wondered if your recently added bird feeder was attracting nocturnal visitors. You got up without turning on the light, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious animal. As you pulled the drape, however, you were met with the large frame of a man plucking your laundry in a hurry. 
A panicked scream erupted from the depths of your chest and you slapped the light switch, erratically searching for your phone. By the time you dialed emergency, the intruder had vanished. You were sobbing against the wall under the fake reassurances of the operator, eyeing the sliding door that had no lock. Had he wished, the masked man could've easily invited himself in. You were at the mercy of a lunatic and no one seemed to be impressed by your situation. 
No more. Ideally you'd go back to your home country and forget about your plans to build yourself a life in Japan. What were you even thinking? A lonely girl, low on funds, signing a contract to be relocated across the ocean for work. You barely scraped the first months of a mandatory year. 
You close your suitcase with a satisfying click and on your way out you wipe the table of all the newspaper clippings. You've been scanning the potential offers on the market. The ones within your budget, of course, which means you don't have to worry about being picky. Until you find a new place, your belongings can wait in storage. Dusty furniture is a better prospect than waking up with a pervert looming over you. 
By the time the clock hits evening hours, you're sipping on your iced coffee with a defeated sigh. Most of the cheap apartments seem to be given to locals. Not outsiders like you. At least they spared you of the false hopes and curtly told you to not expect any call back, so you can swiftly move on to the next circled address. You pull out the crumbled sheet of paper from your pocket. Reading over your list of crossed out lines like this deflates you greatly. At the very bottom lies your final hope: the ad you'd stumbled upon this morning was too good to be true and the realtor was available for viewing at any time, so you're almost certain it's some sort of scam. Yet you can't afford to skip it, can you? You stand up, pat your jeans and take a deep breath in. 
As you check your phone to confirm the location, you begin to doubt your decision. It's hard to believe no other potential renters have showed up. The apartment is in a convenient area, very close to public transport, at a great price, on what looks like a busy street. Isn't it the dream? So why? You glance around, examining the surroundings. The shops are bustling with people. You try to come up with possible explanations, when a deep voice startles you.
"You must be (Y/N), right? You sure are easy to spot."
You turn around to greet the person. Although the second you spot him, you take an unconscious step back. You'd expected a middle aged man dressed in formal attire with a shy bow and clumsy movements. The one standing before you resembles none of that. He's imposingly tall, with a muscular built and slicked back hair. You can discern the tattoos peeking out from under the rolled up sleeves. His face has multiple deep scars and you can only assume that the pale, discolored eye that's transfixed in one direction is a fake made of glass. One might call him handsome, if you're into the kind of appearance you see in documentaries about the mafia. 
"Y-you're the landlord?" You stutter, immediately covering your mouth and regretting your lack of tact. 
"Nuh uh, Boss sent me to deal with it." He flashes you a genuine grin, completely unperturbed by your offhanded implication. "I'm Daitou."
He continues towards the entrance and you follow behind, too awkward to back down now. He describes the living quarters with surprising enthusiasm. If you were to close your eyes and disregard his heavy Kansai accent, you could very well be convinced it's a professional real estate agent hard at work. 
"Excuse me for asking, but..." Once he finishes his marketing presentation, you cannot help the increasing anxiety. "What's the catch?"
"Huh?"
"For something like this to be so cheap...and no one else being interested...may I be frank and ask what's wrong with it? Please understand, I just left my previous apartment because of a stalker. I don't want to be packing again anytime soon."
"Well, isn't it obvious?" He searches your gaze for a moment, before gasping as if remembering something. "Wait, you're a foreigner, so I guess you don't know. Ah, that explains it." 
He lets out a hearty laugh, satisfied with his conclusion. 
"You didn't notice anything strange outside?"
You ponder his question before slowly shaking your head in denial. 
"Really? A bunch of heavily tattooed guys with family pins on their suits...This is a yakuza quarter. Our Family owns most businesses here. But lately we've had a lot of police on our backs, ya know? Bound to happen when the street is swarming with us. So Boss had this great idea - he's smart like that, ya know, I've never been the bright one - anyways, he suggested we rent some of our housing to regular civilians. Less suspicious that way." 
He crosses his arms and nods to himself proudly. 
"I myself think it's a great deal. You won't find anything cheaper for the kind of stuff you're getting. All you have to do is, you know, mind your business. If some weasel questions you, no Sir, you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious. That's all."
You can only stare wide eyed, somewhat taken aback by his honesty.
"Uh...Are you sure you were supposed to tell me all of this? I feel we're skipping some steps before admitting to organized crime."
Now it's his turn to consider your inquiry. 
"Probably not, but I'm not good with words. You look like a smart girl, so I thought I won't sugarcoat it. I'm sure you already know that if you leave and rat us out I'll be throwing your chopped up remains in the nearby river. Or would you want to be shipped home instead? I'm a nice guy like that, hehe."
You return a crooked smile and purse your lips in the process. You'd rather not learn the percentage of truth in his humor anytime soon. 
"You mentioned a stalker? I can guarantee you he won't follow here, miss. And if he's that dumb to wander on our turf, well, me and my guys always hang around the block. Leave him to me and I'll bring you his teeth in a box." 
"I-...Why teeth of all the things?"
"Just easier to pull out, ya know." He winks and reaches for his back pocket, revealing an old pair of pliers with childish delight. "See, I'm a bit of a handyman, so I always have some tools on me."
Strangely enough, you're not as terrified as you would expect from someone in your shoes. Certainly your knees are weaker when compared to your pre-encounter state, but there's something about his demeanor that doesn't feel malicious or threatening. Like conversing with an old friend at a pub. 
"Will I truly not get in trouble? You guys do your thing and I'm 100% not involved?"
"You have my word." And with that, as if closing the sale of his lifetime, he confidently slaps a stack of papers on the nearby counter and hands you a pen. "You already have my number, if anyone pisses you off just hit me up and I'll be at your service. Boss left everything to me."
No perverts and less of your monthly allowance going towards rent. Maybe it's your despair talking, but you've been persuaded nonetheless. You scribble your name in the designated field and shove the documents towards your new acquaintance. 
"Pleasure doing business with you, miss (Y/N)." He cheerfully dangles the keys before dropping them in your hand and heads for the door.
"Oh, is shipping included in the rent?"
He stops and turns to you, mildly confused.
"You said if I mess up you'll ship my remains home. Do I pay for the postage myself, or is that part of the monthly tax?" You ask with a cheeky grin. 
His eyes narrow in delight and you can tell he's greatly amused by your words. 
"Nah, consider it a gift from me. Gotta treat a lady nice, 'specially if it's a pretty one like you."
And with that, you're alone again. You look around the room, trying to visualize your new home. It's already getting dark outside. Now that you've had the situation explained to you, you can definitely see what Daitou meant. There's the occasional police officer patrolling the street, and plenty of men dressed in similar fashion walking in small groups. 
"And?"
Outside the building, a young man is leaning against the wall with a cigarette in his mouth. He seems to have been waiting for Daitou. 
"It's done. Some cute foreigner is moving in." He lifts an arm in a flexing motion, patting his bicep in a congratulatory manner. "Boss will be surprised, eh?"
"You're fucking with me."
"What? You wanna go back upstairs and check?" He responds, appalled. "Might've taken longer than expected, but I told ya I can manage!"
"Are you sure you didn't threaten her or something? I still don't know what Boss was thinking when he asked a nutcase like you to deal with the civvies." 
"Hey hey hey, I may not be all fancy speaking like you or Kazuya, but I'm not dumb. Matter of fact, she already signed the papers."
"I never said you're dumb. Just batshit crazy." The young man sighs and flicks his cigarette butt away, stomping on it.
"Let's go and tell the others."
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ddejavvu · 6 months
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you’re probably sick of animagus reader fics but if you’re up for it i was wondering whether you were in the mood for some remus x fem reader?
maybe r is a dormouse or smth and just practically stays tucked inside rem’s sweaters or the inside pockets of his robes/blazer. r possibly falls out his sweater is a really crowded corridor (can’t change back) and rem panics cause he doesn’t fancy his girl being flattened <3
You make a mental note, while fleeing the shadows of impending doom that cascade onto the chilled stone floor around you, that you need to make sure Remus never buys another pair of pants with such shallow pockets. You typically cling to the inside of his sweater, but he's bundled up a little too warm for your taste today, and you'd tucked yourself into the linty confines of his corduroys instead.
It had all been going well, until someone had bumped rather aggressively into his thigh, the one that you were pressed worriedly against, and you'd darted to your left to escape the pain. Unfortunately, left was the direction of the pocket's opening, and the fall to the stone tile beneath you had been a monumental one for your small size.
Thankfully, you hadn't splattered against the tile, but you're running for your life now, and you seem to be swimming upstream no matter which direction you turn. There's always feet working against you, feet close to trampling your tail, feet threatening to squash your lungs, and you yearn for the solace of Remus's plush pocket once more.
Remus only gets a few steps away from the spot where you'd tumbled unceremoniously to the ground before he reaches his hand into his pocket, intent on scooping you out and discreetly moving you to his sweater. But there's nothing in his pockets save for a button that had fallen off of the inside of his book bag, and panic seizes his chest in its heavy, unforgiving claws.
"Uh-" He flounders, steps hesitantly stuttering over the floor as the ebb and flow of students around him becomes suffocating. Now, all of a sudden, he's not a part of the crowd, he's what they're fighting against, and he pats down his other pockets in case you'd just moved addresses.
You haven't.
Dropping to his knees is rather difficult amidst a stampede, and it's not only his weary joints that ache, but his hands as disgruntled students hoof over them. He ignores the way his pinky smarts, twinging pink with a pained flush beneath the toe of a third-year, and ducks his head to the ground to see if he can spot you scampering amongst the students.
There's movement all around him, but none if it is your size. Black and red and green and blue and yellow blur through his vision as students of all houses flood the halls, and each second that he doesn't find you alive and well worries at his heart with panic's mangled claws. He thinks he sees you to his left, but- oh, that's a cat, and that's worse, so he ducks even further to the ground, and redoubles his effots.
Thankfully, you've noticed the deviated path the students are now taking, annoyed grumbles about the idiot stooped in the hallway. That's your idiot, you think, and you scamper as fast as your tiny legs allow to meet Remus where he knees.
He sees you coming, his pretty eyes flood with a relief so palpable you can feel it in your own chest, and just before you can scurry into his outstretched hand, you feel something heavy land on your tail and trap you in your place. You feel a puff of breath against your back, and the snare of cat's claws against the meat of your tail, but before the beast can lean down and devour you, Remus lunges for your body, cupping his hand over your trembling form and swatting the animal away.
"Absolutely not, thank you." Remus snaps at the cat, and a second-year gives him a rather apprehensive stare as she hurries around him, "Darling, are you okay?"
You're not very articulate in mouse form, but you manage a thankful squeak, one that Remus smiles fondly at while straightening up.
The cat doesn't look very happy with him, but Remus isn't afraid of a few more scratches on his arm, and you nestle securely into his palm when he straightens, limbs limp with confident exhaustion, that he'd let the cat claw open each one of his scars ten times before he ever let it get a shot at you.
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undressrehearsal · 1 day
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dare to fuck this up
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summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing
a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance
part 1
You hadn't talked about it. 
You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch. 
You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you? 
The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet. 
That had been three weeks ago. 
For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice. 
At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach. 
Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked. 
And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her. 
Fine. 
If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her. 
Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellie’s door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.
“Sorry, I’m busy,” she called - just as she had every day for three weeks. 
You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder. 
“I’m busy!” she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didn’t know her so well.
So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didn’t stop - didn’t even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air. 
“What the hell are you-” 
You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor. 
She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor. 
And her eyes…. Her eyes were completely shattered. 
So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, “Truth or dare?”
And the game began. 
Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped. 
Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this… whatever this was. “No,” she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottle’s neck tightened. “No, I’m not doing this. I’m busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-”
She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it. 
“When somebody asks the question,” you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, “you have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?” 
And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldn’t solve - couldn’t even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottle’s neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs. 
You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. “Alright,” she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. “Okay, I’ll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.” 
Ellie’s bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you weren’t sure. 
You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellie’s sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup. 
It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway. 
Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed. 
Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, “Dare.” 
You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger. 
Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, “Try to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.” 
You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadn’t been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadn’t made what had obviously been a drunken mistake. 
The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably. 
“This’ll be easy,” she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die. 
There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellie’s phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut. 
You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, “Can’t promise this’ll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.” Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye. 
You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldn’t see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated. 
You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy. 
You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldn’t have even thought about it, wouldn’t have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, “I save my complaints for when I see your face instead.” You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something. 
You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. “If it took you that long to find one, it’s no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.” 
“Hey,” she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. “I don’t exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.” 
Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasn’t how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly - 
Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didn’t look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, “This is gonna be so stupid.” 
When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldn’t look away. 
This was definitely Hell. It had to be. 
When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste. 
When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things. 
Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, “Truth or dare?” She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave and give her relief. 
“Truth,” you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago. 
But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasn’t about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, “What’s the worst first date you’ve been on?” Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, “One I haven’t heard before.” 
So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadn’t been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention. 
So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates you’ve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldn’t see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldn’t stop laughing. 
Finally, you said, “Okay, this was before we came to college. We weren’t close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I don’t think you’ve heard this one before. Stop me if I’m wrong.” She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “I had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.” 
“Window shopping,” she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again. 
You swallowed the lump and continued, “Yeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friend’s, I didn’t know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.” 
“Was this guy a fucking cradle robber?” Ellie said, wrinkling her nose. 
You shook your head. “He may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.” Your stomach twisted when she laughed. “So we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.” You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldn’t fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, “And this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.” 
You reveled in the way Ellie’s jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, “No.” 
You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. “Yes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesn’t like when girls dye their hair.” 
Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, “But fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and he’s already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,” you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, “and he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?” 
Ellie groaned. “Tell me he didn’t ask who you voted for or some shit.” 
You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. “God, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, ‘Are you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.’” 
You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. “No!” 
You couldn’t stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.
Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellie’s lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again. 
And that’s how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didn’t take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth. 
For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (“What do you mean you’ll break up with someone if they don’t like garlic?” Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.”) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (“There are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?”) 
And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasn’t all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened. 
But the clock kept ticking. 
After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. “Okay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I can’t wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -”
“One more,” you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after she’d looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, “We haven’t even opened the bottle, so what’s one more? Just for fun.” 
Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you. 
“Fine,” she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. “One more.”
You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldn’t speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, “Truth or dare, Els?” 
She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadn’t realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh. 
Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, “Dare.” Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth. 
And fuck it if your heart didn’t stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, “Kiss me.” 
A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didn’t. You held them out to Ellie - you weren’t sure if they were a threat or an offering. 
Ellie didn’t recoil, and you weren’t sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. “I really need to study, okay? I don’t have time for thi-” 
You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldn’t open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it. 
But this was too important to ignore. 
“Kiss me, Ellie,” you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth. 
Now, Ellie was the one who couldn’t look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, “I need you to leave. Please.” That last word - please - made your heart break. 
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, “No.” 
Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, “What do you want? I really need to study.” 
And it was the lack of care that broke you. 
You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didn’t so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, “What’s your fucking problem?” 
Ellie’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. “What’s my problem?” 
“Yeah,” you cut her off before she could even continue. “What’s your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You haven’t even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!” She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. “You’ve hardly looked at me all night. And look,” you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, “if you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?” 
Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldn’t breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart. 
It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. “I don’t regret it.” 
You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldn’t meet your eyes. She couldn’t even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, “Then kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?” 
“You,” she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, “I’m scared of you.” 
And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering. 
You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didn’t recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: “How can I fix this, Els? You want me to-” You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. “Do you want me to act like it didn’t happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? I’ll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just… fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just… tell me what I did wrong.” 
You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft. 
“You,” she said, so softly it ached, “haven't done anything wrong.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, “You were drunk.” 
You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. “What?” 
Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers. 
“You were drunk,” she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. “And I…. Fuck, I shouldn’t have pushed you. I shouldn’t have… forced myself on you.” She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. “I couldn’t even… wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldn’t even look at you, and that’s even shittier! And for three weeks, I’ve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldn’t have done that.” 
Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away. 
“I don’t-” you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldn’t seem to fit all her pieces back together. “Ellie… Els, are you saying you’re avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.” The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.
Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. “You were drunk!” she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. “You were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just… pushed. I pushed and I didn’t know when to stop and, fuck, I still can’t believe I did that and I didn’t even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you I’m sorry, and-” 
“Ellie.” You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didn’t pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. “For one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?”
She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. “You kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didn’t listen.” 
“Els, I told you to stop because I was scared,” you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, “Not of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And that’s fucking embarrassing to admit, but I’m saying it so you know it wasn’t your fault. I was scared because… fuck.” You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. “Because you’re my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didn’t want you to stop.” 
She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, “You couldn’t fuck anything up. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 
“Neither did you,” you practically shouted. “Ellie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long I’ve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.” 
Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. “A long fucking time.” It was no more than a whisper. 
Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldn’t figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. “Yeah.” Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. “Yeah. Me too.” 
“Yeah,” you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. “Not just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. I’ve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.” 
You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek. 
“What do we do now?” 
When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. “Like you said,” she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. “This could fuck everything up.” 
Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. “Yeah,” you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellie’s eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. “But….” 
“But,” Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin. 
You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadn’t forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest. 
Ellie broke away from you, but she didn’t stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, “Are you sure about this? I mean, what-”
“Ellie,” you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. “Just shut up for once, okay?” 
You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream. 
Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her. 
Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought you’d push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart. 
The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out. 
It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head. 
Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. “This is new.” 
“Shut the fuck up,” you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. “Sorry I’m not in my pajamas. I’ll be sure to fix that next time.” 
She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, “No, I like it.” 
You didn’t talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellie’s tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin. 
“You’re such an asshole,” she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there.  You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. “Just had these on full display. Drove me insane.” 
You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. “I had to get your attention somehow, didn’t I?” 
Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, “You’re crazy if you think you’ve ever not had my attention.” 
When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan. 
Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, “Tell me to stop and I'll stop.” 
She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise. 
You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didn’t fight you as you pushed her away, didn’t hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck. 
Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldn’t suppress your own smile when you said, “You’re infuriating.” 
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, “Yeah, get used to that.” 
You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didn’t talk about the inclination of that either. 
Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellie’s hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch. 
“This doesn’t seem fair,” you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, you’d be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. “You’re wearing way too many clothes.” 
Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didn’t have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her. 
This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadn’t expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue. 
But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face. 
“Like what you see?” she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan. 
“Shut the fuck up,” you mumbled. You couldn’t tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldn’t keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldn’t tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you. 
If you told her, she’d never let you live it down.
Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips. 
You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it. 
You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldn’t resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel. 
You loved revenge. 
But you weren’t like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didn’t have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile. 
So no, you didn’t have any patience left in you.
When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst. 
Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - “I can't fucking believe you though I didn’t want this.” - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants. 
When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster. 
The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, “Haven’t I waited long enough, Els?” 
Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise. 
Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. “Fuck, I’ve waited long enough too, right?” 
You couldn’t hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple. 
You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, “Little eager, aren’t you?” before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit. 
The moan that wracked through Ellie’s chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged. 
Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. “Fuck - what the fuck -” Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together. 
You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place. 
You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer? 
A shudder wracked through Ellie’s body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed. 
You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldn’t convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. “Fuck, come here.” 
You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world. 
You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely. 
She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, “Now you're wearing too many clothes.” You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off. 
“Who the fuck designed those things?” she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans. 
You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadn’t even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth. 
Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg. 
Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you. 
“God, look at you,” she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. “So fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.” 
“Shit,” you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didn’t quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldn’t see the green anymore. Your voice wasn’t nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: “Fuck off, Els, don’t be a dick.” 
“Am I being a dick?” she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. “Good things come and all that shit, right?” Ever as she was teasing you, Ellie’s hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, “Fuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like this….” 
You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: “Finally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have you…?” You couldn’t think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness. 
“Like you said,” she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, “a long fucking time.” 
Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers. 
“Shit, Ellie,” you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. “Ah - fuck.” 
She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, “How long have you wanted this, baby?” She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. “How many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?” 
You couldn’t even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you. 
“Fuck, look at you,” Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. “So fucking pretty for me.” 
She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear. 
Ellie didn’t move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly. 
It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips. 
When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart. 
Ellie didn’t wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now? 
Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: “A long fucking time.” 
Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasn’t so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before. 
Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, “What do we do now?” 
You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. “We can figure that out tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. “Just don’t fucking run off again, okay?” 
419 notes · View notes
miragemurder · 4 months
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Separated
Part 3 of Spotlight & Secret
Pairing: Veneer x GN Reader
Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst
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Part three is here! Thank you guys so much for your support. Honestly didn’t expect this series to get far so I’m glad you guys enjoy! Velvet is kind of a bitch in this story so I’m sorry to all my Velvet lovers. I’m working on some smaller requests right now so please keep sending them in! Master list coming soon.<3 ★ ★ ★
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Run. Get away as fast as you can. That was the only thing you had on your mind when you first heard Velvet’s steps down the hallway. Secret. This has to be a secret, no one must know what just had happened. If you were caught making out with one of the biggest stars Mount Rageous had to offer it would be game over, for the both of you. You couldn’t risk Veneer’s whole career over one simple kiss.
You hurried down the hallway until you got out onto the main floor of the Rage Dome. You took in some deep breaths, trying to regain the air you just lost scurrying down the hallway. Looking around, you found the nearest bathroom and quickly walked in. Speeding to the mirror, you fixed up the hair you “accidentally” messed up and splashed your face with some water.
You looked up into the mirror and a moment of realization struck you. Veneer’s lipstick is waterproof. Your lips were stained the same shade of green his lipstick was. You tried everything you can to rub it off, using a towel, water, even your sleeve. Nothing. Sure the people out there would see the lipstick and think none of it, but you knew that Velvet would know, somehow or other. She always finds out.
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“Ugh where’s crimp? I told her to be at my vanity in ten and she’s not there!” Velvet walked into Veneer’s room, immediately making her presence known.
She looked over to Veneer who was frantically combing out his hair, making sure it looked just how it did before your two’s little session. She rose a brow, slowly walking over to her brother.
“Veneer, what’s up with you? Why are you acting so skittish and nervous?” Velvet questioned, approaching right behind him.
“Oh me? I’m fine! I don’t know what you mean, I’m totally fine. Nothing is wrong with me, I’m totally… perfectly… fine.” Ending his sentence, he slunk back into his chair. He quietly panicked, hoping everything looked normal.
Velvet squinted her eyes and watched Veneer through the mirror before twirling around his chair, having him face her. She brought her hand to his face, almost inspecting it.
“Your lipstick’s smudged.” She said softly in a stern tone. She looked him directly in the eye, furrowing her brows.
“Why is your lipstick smudged?” She slowly backed off him and crossed her arms. Veneer gulped, not knowing how to respond.
“Veneer.” Her voice rose. Clearly she knew something was up.
“Please sister I can explain!” Veneer frantically stood up, breaking his silence.
“Veneer you know the rules about this!” Velvet shouted, “Who did you have in here?” She took ahold of his collar, keeping a firm grasp.
“Answer me!” She screamed. Veneer flooded with panic, trying to push her hand off of him.
“It.. it was [_____]!” He cried, closing his eyes as he felt himself tear up. He was frozen in place, silently sobbing to himself. He knew he should act strong and stand up for himself but he all he felt was vulnerable.
Velvet let go of his collar and stood in silence, the feeling of rage seething out of her. Veneer opened his eyes slightly to watch his sister’s next move.
“I never want to see their face here again. If you know what’s good for you, you will delete their number and never speak to them again. I am not risking my dream for your emotions to get in the way. You know the rules, you can not have a relationship with a fan-“
“But they’re not a fan-“
“You will not!” Velvet yelled. This was the first Veneer had ever seen his sister so upset. He couldn’t move, all his emotions were crashing against each other like waves of the sea. He felt himself visibly shake as he looked into his sisters eyes.
“Get. Out.” He spoke. Velvet’s eyes grew wide at his sudden comment.
“I said get out!” He yelled. Velvet swiftly turned and exited his room. Veneer walked over to his couch, breaking out into tears. Why did he care this much? It was only a person he met a couple weeks ago. They haven’t even been dating yet he was enticed. He slowly curled up into a ball and sobbed into his knees, eventually drifting off.
Veneer woke up to the sound of a hard knock from his door. He hurried to get up and brush himself off, wiping away the tears that crusted away in his sleep.
“15 minutes.” The director yelled from behind the door. Veneer panicked, there was no way he was going to be able to get ready in time for the meet and greet. He quickly through on his shoulder padded top and ran out the door to his sisters room to find crimp.
Once he made it to her room he quickly knocked, huffing a little from the slight jog. Velvet opened her door, fully ready for the event.
“And what do you think you’re doing here?” Velvet questioned, raising a brow.
“I need Crimp to help me get ready.” Veneer sighed, still trying to catch his breath.
“Oh no, no, no. You’re not going.” Velvet hissed, walking out the door and passing him. Veneer turned to her, confused.
“What do you mean I’m not going?” He hurried to catch up to her.
“I mean clearly you’re not prepared. I also don’t want you and your “lover” to see each other.” Veneer paused, Velvet continuing to walk down the hall to go greet her fans.
Veneer stood silent, then slowly started walking back to his room. He felt like such a wreck. First, his lover had to hide away. Second, his sister found out. And now third, he wasn’t going to be able to visit his fans at the meet and greet. He walked into his room, closing the door and sat right in front of it. This is what he wanted but why did he feel so empty?
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You were exploring the rest of the Rage Dome until you saw a crowd off people waiting for something. You slowly walked over to inspect the crowd and to see what was happening. Suddenly, you heard a voice from a speaker go off.
“Please welcome, Velvet and Veneer!”
You rushed to push yourself to the front of the crowd, wanting to see Veneer. You watched as Velvet came out from behind the little stage they had going on. There was a set of stairs so one by one fans could greet their favorite Popstar. You watched as she walked to the center of the stage. You noticed that Veneer was gone and started questioning what was going on. Until Velvet noticed you and made a quick realization. She slowly walked over until she was fully in front of you.
“Nice to meet you, [____].”
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Guys, I really feel bad about this one I’m sorry. I felt like I did you guys dirty. It’s not my best work but I hope you guys enjoyed, I’m probably going through a mini writers block rn. I know Veneer was technically already “ready” in the last post but he cried and passed out, I feel like you would have to fix yourself up again after that. Also, Velvet very much knows everything about you and Veneer, she has her ways~
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441 notes · View notes
exhaslo · 4 months
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Puzzle Pieces Ch.5
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4
Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex
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You could feel how hot your cheeks were still. Ever since you had kissed Miguel's cheek, you couldn't stop thinking about him. He was so nice to you and such a gentlemen. Honestly, all you saw were green flags coming from him. You really wanted to keep seeing him and talking to him and just, enjoying how you felt around him.
You were currently at work, wrapping some meat for a custom order. It was strange. Immediately after your first date with Miguel, your work load got easier. You didn't feel as stressed or tired anymore that you were actually able to eat normally again.
"The usual?" Your supervisor asked.
Your ears perked up, turning your head. There was Miguel, whispering something before a bunch of men entered the third freezer. You watched as Miguel slowly walked by you, his hand swiftly patting your head.
Oh, you loved it when he did that. Miguel had started to pat your head every now and then. It was a small token of affection, but it made your body feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You thought it was silly, but you wanted Miguel to keep showing you such small affection like that.
"Clock out when I finish," Miguel whispered.
Your ears perked up and just nodded to his request. Once he entered the freezer, you scurried to your supervisor and informed him of your early leaving. Your supervisor just agreed with ease and let you finish your work.
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Miguel just drank in every loving look you gave him. It felt like you were so close to being his, but Miguel hasn't even kissed you yet. He was still warming you up to be his little wife. Miguel needed to know how comfortable you were with his part of his life.
Sitting against his chair, Miguel watched as his men took care of another Goblin Society member. He hummed towards the man's screams, still recalling your adorable expression to his head pats. Honestly, how innocent could someone be?
"Miguel, he isn't talking." Peter whispered. Miguel lazily glanced towards the pathetic man,
"Hobie, do whatever."
"Aye, finally."
Miguel leaned back, not interested in this anymore. He already had a long night dealing with Alchemax work, only to wake up to this fool snooping around his base. Miguel just needed his dose of stress reliever, aka you.
Once the screams finally stopped, Miguel inhaled deeply. He stood up and walked towards the body then faced his men. Taking a look at his watch, Miguel grunted lowly.
"Tighten security. The fact that such a worm like this attempted to sneak around is pathetic." He spat then turned towards Ben, "You and Jessica go to the port and check the shipment. I don't want anymore surprises."
With a wave of his hand, Miguel left the freezer first. He walked through the maze of boxes and exited. The hallway where the freezers were was empty as usual. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Miguel walked down the hallway, towards the deli.
You were looking better. It had only been two weeks since your first date, but things were changing for you for the better. Miguel made sure to have a word with the supermarket. He was going to take care of you little by little. You were deserving of his affection.
He on the other hand, did not deserve yours, but Miguel was sure as shit going to take it.
Making eye contact with you, Miguel watched as you hurried to clock out and get your stuff. Miguel was a greedy man. He always took what he wanted. That or it just happened to land on his lap, just like you did.
"S-Sorry, d-did I make you wait long?" You asked.
Miguel patted your head, enjoying the look you gave him. If only he knew it was this easy to win your heart. Miguel would have done this from the start.
"As promised, you get to pick the place for our date," Miguel said with a warm smile, walking you out of the supermarket.
"I-I saw there is this H-Halloween event in Central P-Park. P-Pumpkins, apple p-picking and some o-other stuff. C-Can we go there?" You asked him. Miguel helped you into the car,
"I'm not going to say no if it's where you want to go,"
"R-Really?!"
Watching you smile brightly, Miguel couldn't help but give in. If you wanted something, he was going to give it to you. Call it love, but Miguel was falling for you hard. His little bunny deserved everything, especially if you were going to be his.
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You squealed lowly as you and Miguel arrived at the event. Practically jumping in place, you grabbed Miguel's hand, wanting to look around. This was something new and actually fun. You hadn't had a chance to leave your apartment to do anything like this.
"Wah, look at those!" You whispered, spotting some stands that sold desserts.
Miguel just watched you, keeping his composure as he followed your every whim. Right now, he was outside his territory. Buying you a cupcake, Miguel watched as you stayed close to him, nibbling happily on the treat.
You couldn't stop smiling as you munched on your cupcake. For once, you actually went somewhere that you wanted to go. Not only that, but Miguel was treating you like his girlfriend. Following you around and getting you treats. It was making your heart flutter. Gripping his sleeve, you tried to hide your face as you kept enjoying your treat.
Miguel kept his arm was wrapped around you waist, keeping an eye out. Some of his men were around to keep guard, but Miguel still had to be careful. After all, everything worked out when he took care of it himself.
Miguel's goal was to have the whole city of Nueva York under his command. He was almost there, but there were still some small gangs and enemies who tried to stand in his way. Miguel wasn't going to let those scum win. Not when he was so close to being in charge of everything.
"Mhm~ Sure you don't want one?" You asked. Miguel leaned down towards you, his forehead against yours,
"If you let me lick off your crumbs," He whispered, watching your face turn bright red.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he wiped some frosting off you lip and proceeded to lick it off his finger. You squeaked and hid your face in your sleeve, while he scrunched up in disgust. Miguel was never a fan of sweets, but he'll do anything for you.
"W-Want....Want to pick out a p-pumpkin?" You asked lowly. Miguel played with you hair in response,
"Sure,"
You threw away your wrapper, still holding onto Miguel's hand. Your heart was racing since Miguel was the one who asked you to hold onto him at all times. You were feeling embarrassed. These dates were making you want Miguel more and more.
You were just scared.
Scared of another Eddie. You gave yourself the better of the doubt, wanting to believe Miguel to be different. So far, he sure did feel different, but deep down...You were still terrified of him turning around and turning into another Eddie.
Stopping at the pumpkin patch, you curiously looked around, wanting to distract your mind. You were having a good time with Miguel. It was best to avoid thinking about the past. Once you found the perfect pumpkin, you cheered quietly. You wanted to try and make your own pumpkin desserts. Give them to Miguel as a gift for taking good care of you. Picking up the pumpkin, you smiled and showed Miguel.
Right as you did, an explosion happened.
Miguel immediately grabbed you, pulling you into his embrace as he signaled his men to check it out. Miguel cussed lowly as he recognized the laughter to be Goblin's and his crew. Holding your head in place, Miguel swiftly picked you up and took you back to his car.
"M-Miguel," You whimpered, shaking as you still held your pumpkin.
"My driver will take you home. Text me when you arrive."
"W-Wait," You whimpered, putting your pumpkin down and hugging Miguel's waist, "P-Please...Please don't go."
"I have to," Miguel stroked your cheek and placed a firm kiss against your forehead, "Text me when you get home, mi amor. (my love)"
Your lips quivered as the car drove off. You watched as Miguel pulled out a gun and ran back to where the explosion was. Tears rolled down your cheek as you trembled in fear. You just wanted him to hold you a bit longer and tell you that everything was okay.
That's all you wanted.
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Miguel cussed in Spanish, angry that his date got ruined. Things were moving along quite nicely. Miguel actually felt like you were ready for him to kiss you. But, of course, like everything else good in his life, something had to happen.
"Take them down,"
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After a few hours of endless shooting and fighting, the Goblin and his crew ended up giving up. Well, Miguel got his hands dirty and beat the living shit out of the Green Goblin himself. Once the cops showed up, Miguel and his Spiders disappeared from the scene, leaving nothing but their webs of destruction.
Riding with Peter, Miguel finally looked at his phone and saw your text. He grunted lowly, recalling your tears before he parted. In an annoyed and demanding tone, Miguel told Peter to drop him off at your place.
It was a surprise, but Peter happily agreed. Teasing Miguel about finally finding love and whatnot. Miguel tuned him out since he knew that Peter was just going to show him more pictures of Mayday, his child.
"Peter, why don't you do something productive instead?"
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You whimpered lowly as you took the batch of pumpkin cupcakes out of the oven. You were still waiting for Miguel to text you back. It had been hours since you've heard from him. Five hours to be exact and you only knew that because it took you four hours to boil the pumpkin for the puree.
Placing the cookies down to cool, you gasp as you heard your door bell. Quickly, you rushed over and glanced at the peep hole. Seeing Miguel, you opened the door and tackled him in a tight hug. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried softly.
"I'm sorry, (Y/N)." Miguel whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you back inside.
"I-I was s-so s-s-scared! M-Miguel, p-please..." You whimpered into his chest, then gasped moving away, "S-Sorry! I-I'm getting your shirt d-"
"I don't care about my clothes," Miguel shut the door and pulled you back into his embrace, "How are you? No lingering pain from that explosion earlier?"
This a new. Your eyes widen as tears rolled down your cheeks as Miguel observed you. He was worried about you. Asking about how you were doing. No one had ever asked if you were ever doing okay. Shaking, you gripped Miguel's sleeves and hugged him again.
"Thank you," You whispered. Miguel sighed as he stroked your hair,
"Sit down, Mi pequeño conejito (my little bunny). I need to talk to you,"
You slowly followed Miguel to your couch, rubbing your eyes. You sat beside him, noticing the furrow in his brows. This was the most annoyed you ever seen him. You played with your sleeves, worried about what this could be about.
"I need you to know about what else I do, aside from being a CEO at Alchemax."
Miguel glanced at you, watching you fidget in your seat. He scoffed lowly, wondering what you were nervous about now. Gripping his hands, Miguel tried to hold this out as longer. It was always a risk telling someone about his mafia business. He had to secure their silence before revealing his secret.
But how could he do that to you?
You could have gotten injured today because of the Goblin's bullshit. Miguel wanted to protect those he cherished. His mafia group was made to protect the innocent, despite how it seems. Fixing his posture, Miguel turned towards you.
"(Y/N), what do you know about the mafia?" He asked, making eye contact with you. You flinched,
"Um...I've watched...the G-Godfather."
"Dios Mio. (My God). Alright, my fault there, I set the bar too low," He said with a grin, "How do you feel about underworld business?"
"Hm...Not sure...what you mean,"
"(Y/N), is there anything you know about the criminal world?" Miguel asked, honestly wondering your innocence. You shook your head,
"N-Not really, just that...it's bad stuff. Um, I-I was always told...t-to keep my nose down...a-and not...not know about anyone."
Miguel raised you chin, his thumb trailing your cheek. His eyes motioned you to come closer, to which you did. Miguel could see the curiosity in your eyes. The anticipation you had the closer to got to him. Miguel kept his hand against your cheek, his body turning to face yours.
"How would you feel if I was one of those bad people?" Miguel whispered, his other hand bringing you waist closer to him.
"Y-You're not...bad to me," You whispered.
"Oh, but I am,"
Miguel's smirk grew wider as he sat you on his lap, his lips drawing closer to yours. Once he had you secured, Miguel stole your lips in a deep kiss. Your lips were soft and your grip was light. It was strange, but Miguel felt a connection.
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You trembled slightly as you drew closer to Miguel. Your body was getting hotter as your heart raced faster. Once you were on his lap, you resisted a whimper. His touch was so soft and warm. He was gentle as he stole your lips with a kiss.
You felt weak as Miguel kissed you. His kisses were deep, rough, but somehow kind. His hand held your head while his other held your waist. You could feel your body heating up. Parting your lips for air, you whimpered lowly as Miguel took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.
Another whimper escaped your throat as you gripped onto Miguel's shirt. As if he understood, Miguel broke the kiss, letting you catch your breathe.
"Sorry, got carried away there," Miguel whispered, holding your waist still. You shook your head,
"I-It's fine...I enjoyed it." You admitted shyly.
Miguel raised a brow as you stopped shaking. He raised his hand to your cheek again, watching you nuzzle into his palm. He smiled, finally giving into what Peter said. Miguel pulled you into a hug, letting you rest against him as he stared at your shitty cieling.
You belonged to him now. Miguel was going to hold off telling you about his mafia business. As much as he wanted to inform you now, Miguel had to make sure you were secured with him before saying anything. It will take some time though.
"Miguel," You whispered, slowly falling asleep, "I...made you...some pumpkin cookies,"
"I'll make sure to try them," Miguel hummed.
Once you fell asleep, Miguel inhaled deeply. You smelled delicious, probably from your soap. Miguel rubbed your back, his eyes glancing at the rim of your shirt. He wanted to see what you were hiding, but he knew that you needed to tell him.
That and he might lose his temper if there was something he did not want to see.
"Best not to think of that. Let me just enjoy this moment."
Closing his own eyes, Miguel decided to rest. He was comfortable with having you in his arms. This was a first and defiantly, not the last.
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qwimchii · 6 months
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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 4) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺
playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)
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𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 ��𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 12𝘬
𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘴 & 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘬𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘦𝘨𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 😞
note: oml. i cannot thank you guys enough for your patient. this took me a lot longer than i thought it would (i've been writing the whole day LMFAO). your patience and support has been literally amazing and i love each and every one of you. thank you so much 😭💐💞 please enjoy &lt;33
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you gasped, scrambling back into the bed.
the girl just stood there. stock still. like a ghost. eyes so shadowed in the darkness that they looked like two black pits staring at you.
your heart beat out of your chest, blood thickening to a slow gurgle, as you reached slowly for something solid on the nightstand. you made contact with the glass cup.
you were surprised by the amount of force in your voice. “are you here to kill me?”
she just stared, unblinking. 
a roiling turmoil of heat built right in your chest, and you snapped, “are you one of Turner’s men?”
she scoffed, and it only added to the flame of your ire, before you heard the soft click of her gun cocking.
“no,” she said, defiant, turning her chin up at you. “but you do have a nice ransom on your head.”
her head tilted, taking you in with a dark look that raked across your body. “and i recognized that man you were with. Ghost, is it?”
oh.
your eyes narrowed. “how do you know him?”
the better question was how did she recognize him?
your heart sank.
“i’ve done business with him,” she said cooly, and your heart just sank further. 
it made sense now. why she was standing at the door, her attention trained on Ghost, marching away when the other man told her to leave. she was expecting a customer.
maybe even a regular one.
then, she frowned at you. “not in ways that you are thinking.”
curling relief soared in your chest, and a weight lifted from your shoulders as you released a shaky breath.
she threw down the gun onto the floor and it skidded across the wooden floorboards, hitting the post of the bed with a thunk. mind clouded with confusion, you looked up at her with a furrowed brow.
she straightened her shoulders. “i’m here to save you.”
you blinked. save you?
“save me?” you squeaked, and her face twitched with annoyance.
“yes,” she said, striding forward to the bed, “we have to hurry. come.”
you scurried further back into the bed, yelping when you almost fell off the side.
she stopped in her tracks, watching you struggle in the sheets with flushed cheeks. quickly, you drew the yellow robe that was discarded on the floor around your body, hoping she didn’t see anything in the dark, and turned to her again, fumbling with the knot of it.
you were still holding the glass cup.
she looked down to it in your hands and then back up, mouth in twisted line.
embarrassed, you put the cup behind you on the nightstand.
“your father?” she chewed out slowly, “he has a ransom. he wants you alive.”
“what?” 
“your father. he wants you—”
a thick cloud of confusion settled in your furrowed brow, and you shot out, “i thought Turner wanted me dead.”
the girl gave you a long look, face twisted and hands clenched into the fabric of her dress. “he does. your father doesn’t.”
your mouth fell open, tongue heavy, then closed again.
“are they not working together?” there was a little flicker of hope deep within yourself.
“they are,” she said with raised brows, “they are working to come to an agreement over you.”
your stomach twisted. you felt like puking. 
you flattened yourself against the far wall of the room to stop the nauseating swirls of dizziness racking your mind, creating a marginal distance from the girl who loomed with a veil of impatience over her face, hands clenched by her sides and shoulders braced. a roil of fear boiled in you.
“you can’t take me,” you whispered, voice weak and trampled.
her frown deepened. “you want to stay with Ghost?”
“i am waiting for him,” you said carefully, and the girl scoffed, turning on her heel.
“do you think he will come back?”
your throat felt closed up. “what?”
“do you think he will come back?” she asked again, slowly, like you couldn’t understand her words. she pointed towards the low table in the room—there was a drawstring pouch you didn’t notice before.
“he left that for you at the front desk before he left. i came in to deliver it,” she explained, and you followed her line of sight to the gun at the foot of the bed.
ah. she came in to deliver them as well as threaten you. or save you, in her words. maybe both.
your eyes narrowed. “what are you saying?”
in the darkness of the room, you could see her roll her eyes.
“he left you money and that revolver.”
your head swirled, a pulsing headache building right in the base of your forehead. he left you these items—why? to protect yourself?
he said the brothel was safe. 
a sour taste filled your mouth. why would you need to protect yourself if it was safe?
unless you left the brothel.
you fought the droop of your head with a sharp twinge of your heart, deflating from the inside out.
“he wasn’t planning on coming back,” she gritted out, sounding more impatient than anything.
“you don’t know that,” you snapped, “it’s not dawn yet. he promised me he’d be back by dawn.”
she grew very still. “why do you want to stay with him? has he not been using you for…?”
her eyes roamed down the revealing nature of your robe, then flitted back up to your eyes. her face was stoney cold. serious.
you stiffened. Ghost had promised you he would never bed you again for revenge. had he been telling the truth? you didn’t know.
“i don’t know.”
she scoffed again, muttering under her breath, “she doesn’t know,” and turning away, rubbing over her face.
you swallowed down the growing swollen tightness in your throat, a familiar burn building at the waterline of your eyes. “you don’t understand. if you give me to my daddy…”
she turned back to you and your voice faltered. “i don’t want to be a mistress.”
her stoney face crumpled, eyes narrowed with unease, but you pressed on, “my daddy. he owns a saloon chain and made a business deal with Turner—investment and protection.”
your voice dimmed, quiet and low. “i was part of that deal. my daddy was going to give me to Turner as his mistress.”
the girl was silent, stark still in the darkness, mulling over something in her swirling eyes.
“alright.”
your eyes snapped to her. “alright?”
“i don’t work for Turner. i don’t work for your father. i don’t work for anybody but myself,” she said.
you nodded slowly, trying to digest that, searching her eyes for a twisted lie, but only finding a blank stoney void and truth. instead, you asked, “what about Ghost?”
she paused for a moment, looking apprehensive, before explaining, “when Ghost was younger, and when the law used to be trouble for him, he would hide here in this brothel. he paid for my services for a week but didn’t touch me once. he wanted something else.”
something else? you thought, hands growing clammy and cold.
she turned her head from you. “he wanted my secrets. powerful people tell me too much in the midst of an intimate night. now, i recognize Ghost’s gesture for what it was. he was not being kind to me like i believed him to be.”
her voice was eerily void. “he wanted to use me.”
then, she said, “i was sold by my father for fifty american dollars.”
you flinched. it made you wonder how much Turner had promised your daddy in exchange for you.
her stare was glazed over, dark and unnatural. you suppressed a shiver and listened to what she had to say, clutching at the wall tighter when she slowly stepped forward towards you.
“i know what it is like to want to be useful. i, too, once believed that it was necessary for my father to sell me to feed my brothers. i told myself that the entire way by ship from china. then, i told myself that helping Ghost would give me purpose.”
her voice was stronger, and she drew so near you could see the swirling pattern of her crimson dress. “now, i am not of use to anyone except for myself. i worked hard to get here. this is one of the kindest and most well-paying brothels in the city. most girls only last for five years after being sold into prostitution.”
her words were icy cold. “i worked hard to survive.”
“i’m…” your voice failed in your choked up throat, pangs of heaviness breaking your heart apart. you wanted to apologize but that didn’t feel like enough.
she pinned you with a hard look. “i do not want your pity.”
you slowly sunk down the wall, till your backside hit the cold, hard floor, and you wrapped your arms around your knees. all your problems felt dwarfed in front of this girl, but you still shook with fear.
“i won’t go back to my daddy,” you whispered, words trembling, but defiant nonetheless.
she got on her knees, creeping towards you till she leaned against the wall in the spot beside you. the proximity of her body felt warm in the crisp morning of the room.
she was insistent, expression fierce and strong. “i will not give you over to him for money. ”
your eyes snapped to hers, and her hand slid over the floor into the space between you.
desperate, you searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “thank you.”
you took up her hand, and she squeezed yours with a strength that shocked you for her thin, petite frame.
“i will help you,” she insisted, and a curl of despair wrung your chest.
“you cannot help me, miss,” you said weakly, truthfully, “i need to wait for Ghost.”
she made a noise of deep frustration. “you do not.”
you closed your eyes, nose buried into your knees. “i have to.”
you felt her draw your hand into her lap, holding onto it with a powerful grasp. “he will not return. i prayed many nights for him to return too. but still, i will wait with you.”
the certainty in her tone felt soul crushing, and a truth from her own experience, but the tightness of her grip was an anchor that held you through the nauseating, racks of unease that pulled you like a tide. 
you waited for the sun to peek up through the far windows of the room, overlooking a dip in the city that revealed a stretch of chinatown twinkling in the early, blue hours with loud ruckus, shouts, and clatters.
when the first bruised pinks and purples stretched the morning sky, and beams of orange had cast over your body, your head perking up as you squinting into its glare from over your knees, Ghost had still not come.
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you moved through the city like a ghost—like nothing was anchoring you down to the ground except for the girl’s iron grip on your hand. she had almost never let go of you when you roused from your light slumber, letting her drag you from the room, pocketing Ghost’s money and his revolver.
you left behind your shattered heart in that room. you felt like you died in that room.
the girl had forced you into one of her few western-style, yet airy, dresses that still felt too revealing from the wardrobe of her small room in the upper floors of the brothel. but nobody stared at you as she pulled you down another avenue through chinatown, considerably cleaner and better groomed than the ones you had been on before.
you did not know where you were going—you weren’t sure if you cared. the girl had only said with a determined ferocity, i will help you, when Ghost had not come.
Ghost had not come.
it was like a splintering realization every moment.
she hauled you into the back of a busy shop, barely squeezing through the small frame of the door, opening it to a whirlwind of more women shouting in mandarin and bent over desks strewn with cloths, silks, garments, and clunky sewing machines that packed in the room. that same sweet smoke tinged the room and you resisted pinching your nose against the searing smell.
an older woman with grayed hair and a wrinkled face like a plum stepped into the girl’s path, shouting something at her, though not unkindly, to which the girl shouted back. the old woman stepped back with a nod, and you curled closer to the girl as many of the women in the room turned from their stations to stare as you passed before busying themselves once more.
the girl took you into the front store room, marginally more quiet than in the back, and adorned with a plush red carpet and racks of colorful clothing where some wealthy women perused. 
then, she pulled you towards a raised platform in the corner of the room, where a red curtain hung by it and pushed you onto it. you stepped up, feeling uncomfortably light without her hand around yours, and she tugged the curtain around the platform without a word and a stricken face, shrouding the rest of the room from view.
you stood there for a moment, clutching against the wall and listening to the faint screeches of hangers dragging across their racks, light footsteps, and the bustle of the city from outside the store.
you jolted when she yanked open the curtain and quickly jerked it close behind her once more.
her face looked more serious than before—face screwed up in a tight expression and deep frown. you bit back a gasp when her arms flew to your shoulders and tugged her towards her, almost falling off the platform.
“listen to me,” she grit out with a clenched jaw, and you nodded quickly. “i cannot help you for long. tell me, what do you want?”
what do you want?
the question ran bated circles around your mind.
in a panic, you choked out, “i don’t know.”
she looked disappointed, but her grip on your shoulders only tightened, and you winced from the painful pulse in your injured joints. “you need to decide. now.”
she pressed something hard and cool into your hand and you looked down at the revolver in your open palm. the steel of it was engraved with trumpet vines.
you were reminded of several nights ago—when Ghost had first asked you the question.
“what do you want?” his hand moved to stroke at your cheek, your brow, your hair.
you never had the luxury of pondering the question. your path was always laid out before you by your mama and daddy. there was no choice. only lingering, bitter feelings of resentment as you fought yourself to believe that tending Daddy’s saloon and entertaining businessmen was the life you wanted.
“i dont know.”
“tell me.”
you had said you wanted him. now, you weren’t sure.
what did you want?
you looked into the dark swirl of the girl’s intense gaze, the inky hair that went down her shoulders in unfurling waves. did you want independence like her?
instead you asked, “why are you helping me?”
her face flitted with a tenseness but she held fast, unmoving and unshaken.
you pressed on, “what about the money? don’t you want the ransom?”
you felt eerily calm despite what you were alluding towards—her selling away your last flickers of freedom.
she shook her head. “i will not use you like my father used me.”
you stared at her. maybe, for the first time in your life, you’d met someone who didn’t want to use you for an advantage. maybe this girl was lying and would lead you straight into your daddy’s embrace again, and once your daddy smoothed everything out with Turner, you’d be in Turner’s bed every other night, satiating an old man with the warmth of your youthful touch.
or maybe, she was telling the truth.
“i don’t believe you,” you said, voice soft, and her grip slackened.
“you have to. tell me what you want.” she reached into the neckline of her shirt, and pulled something from her undergarments, revealing the drawstring pouch of the money Ghost left you.
she pushed it into your hand with the gun and closed your fingers around the heaviness of it, the clink of coins and rustles of paper feeling too loud in your ears, your mind swirling with effort.
you mulled over everything for the past week—only just seven days total. when you had met Ghost, one-four-one, their outlawed antics, los vaqueros. Kate’s expression when she left you at your train door, when you had challenged her about the truth of their revenge ploy, when you had escaped on horseback from the leather crafts shop. 
the fullness of her eyes. the sadness of them.
you thought of john when he had an arm circled around your waist as he galloped on that chestnut through the small town, saving your life, and the blinding rush when you turned over your shoulder and shot that man gunning for John. you saved his life in return.
you thought of Soap’s kindness in the hallway of the train, the thick swell of his accent, the delight that bloomed across his face whenever he saw you. the vicious sober look that twisted his smile when he promised to get revenge on Turner.
you thought of Gaz and his proposal, the origin of his poor childhood that he had disclosed in hushed murmurs, and the warmth of his polite touch grasping your hand and pressing it to his chest. the youthful earnest in his face.
you thought of your daddy and your mama—preparing you for a life that you had never chosen. Turner’s mistress.
you didn’t know who to hate more.
you thought of Ghost.
maybe you should hate him.
your skin prickled in remembrance of his soft, warm lips, and gentle touch, the way he held you, his even softer words, his empty promises. the perfect lies he created with a smug look and twinkle in his dark eyes, more charming than his infamous reputation led you to believe.
more charming, terrifying, mysterious, and guarded than you had ever seen in a man.
he lied to you time and time again. you closed your eyes against the weight that dragged your entire body down—so heavy it was like it never wanted you to stand properly again.
the girl’s tight grip steadied you.
“i want to be wanted,” you said weakly, eyes fluttering open again to see the grim look on her face.
her jaw was clenched tight. “i did too. but that is not an option.”
your whole heart shattered all over again.
“i want…” you mind spiraled, “i want revenge.”
the smile that twitched into her lips was malicious.
“against who?”
you felt like you were floating. “Turner.”
your voice darkened. “my daddy.”
she nodded, a pleasant look on her face now. “good. i will help you.”
before she stepped away and off the platform, you shoved the pouch of money back into her arms.
when she shook her head to refuse, you pressed, tone cutting and vicious, “take it. or take me as a ransom so help me god.”
when she realized you would refuse to let her go uncompensated, either from the harsh tone of your voice, your words, or the twisted tightness in your face, she relented, and disappeared from the changing room again.
you steadied your breath, looking into the full-length mirror hung on the wall.
you didn’t look like the girl you were a week ago.
you were different now—sinful, vengeant, a murderer.
you thought that it suited you better.
the girl came back and took you to a different area of the store: through the compact kitchen, where she fed you something greasy, savory, and foreign that you consumed in mere bites, then you swallowed down a steaming cup of tea, and she helped wash in a tub.
rubbing and lathing up soap through your hair as you scrubbed down your body. she was unashamed of your bare state, and the newfound rush that boiled in your veins left you uncaring for it.
after you dried off, she took you to the upper floors of the store to a bedroom—the old woman’s, you recognized later on, when the elder woman brought in several elaborate dresses with a wry smile on her face. the bedroom smelled herbal and picante, you noticed, as you were stripped of your clothes again and redressed in the undergarments the girl lent you.
the old woman said something to you—pleasant with a bellow of laughter—before she trudged out the room with heavy steps.
when you looked at the girl in confusion, the only thing she offered was, “she was very happy the day her husband died. she hopes you can find that same happiness.”
whether it was an ominous omen, or a cruel joke, you couldn’t shake it as she laid out a pale evening gown of silk with patterned lilac flowers up the front. your breath hitched as you smoothed a hand over it, the beads adorning its hems, and the lace gathered along its short puff sleeves.
“i think it would suit you,” the girl said, face lax and fond as she picked it up from the bed and pressed it into your hands.
“how could i accept this?” you asked weakly, and she held up the drawstring pouch, jingling its contents lightly in your face, though not unkindly.
“i know my worth,” the girl said with a deadpanned simplicity that made you smile at the sheer absurdity of it all. 
she helped you slide on the dress, over your corset and drawers, and sat you down at the chipped vanity by the windows where the natural light of mid-day came streaming through that aided you as she drew up your hair into a loose updo. 
you used the powder, eyeshadow, and rogue on the vanity and painted your lips with a careful hand. the girl’s hand came to rest on your exposed nape, and you shivered, not used to the exposed air along your bare arms, neck, and chest due to the low bust of the dress.
the girl placed the revolver on the vanity beside you and you pocketed it through the slit-opening between the layer of your petticoat and dress.
you looked into the mirror of the vanity and the girl’s reflection stared back, expression placid and cool, easing your own nerves.
she said with confidence, “you look lovely.”
you winced at the word, grateful that it went unnoticed to her.
she continued, “tonight, when you reach Turner’s party, there will be violence and bloodshed.”
she slid a box of matches onto the vanity. “wreak havoc. he has run these streets for far too long.”
you pocketed the box with a nod, the box knocking against your revolver, watching her head tilt in the mirror.
“maybe one-four-one will run these streets in time.” a smile flashed across her face before it was gone. “i think things would become better.”
you reached back to grasp at her hand on your neck. “i will make sure you are better compensated when it happens.”
she blinked, eyes flickering with a curiosity. “you will work with one-four-one even after all they have done to you?”
with a sigh, you nodded. “they are all i know. i care too much for them.”
“and Ghost?”
you released her hand, looked away from the mirror, and trained your eyes on the bustling street through the window. “him included.”
you heard her shift behind you. “i cared for him once too. i hope it ends happier for you than it did for me. maybe in marriage.”
you grimaced. “you think i should marry him?”
she was silent for so long that you looked back at her from over your shoulder. she sat with an impeccable posture and a sad tightness in her expression.
“he has used you. he has hurt you. maybe he did not come this dawn to protect you. from Turner and from himself. although he has failed time and time again, maybe his intentions are with a good heart.”
good heart. you didn’t know if you could use those words to describe him.
“albeit, he did not know i would betray him like this. i stole his lover away,” she said with a mischievous look and an air of accomplishment that made you smile.
“are you not worried that one-four-one will punish you for it?”
she only shrugged. “what will they do to me? with this money—” she held up the drawstring, “—i will run away and buy property to live off myself. or i will marry a rich, powerful old man and wait until he dies like the old woman did.”
you laughed at that, remembering the pleasant look on the old woman’s face as she left the bedroom, full of delight and fondness at the memory of her own husband’s death. maybe, you could imagine yourself running a successful clothing boutique like this.
the image soured. you realized you could much better imagine the girl maintaining her own business rather than you.
you could better imagine yourself married with children—their blonde heads bobbing and dark brown eyes twinkling with delight. your chest deflated with a heavy weight.
she pulled you from your thoughts, a new stoicism to her face. “whatever you do with Simon, make sure you use him twice as much as he used you.”
you flinched at the proposition, but her resolve was like steel. you knew she meant it from the way she pinned up the last of your hair with steadied hands and a wall of iron over her elegant features.
for the rest of the afternoon, you stayed up in that bedroom, exchanging stories of your girlhoods. how you grew up in a small town embedded in the dusty, desert west, manning saloon bars and entertaining your daddy’s business partners. the girl told you about her childhood in china, the impoverished peoples in her town, and the ships that came to the nearby big city port that offered families sell off their young girls for services in america.
you had never been impoverished and you had never gone hungry. you listened with horror to the way she described the malnutrition in her town—the way her ribs hung over her sunken stomach, and the cavernous hunger that felt like shooting pains all over her body.
you were surprised when she was so stricken by the way you described the neglectful nature of your daddy and mama that you used to see as a different avenue of affection unique to your own family. she described her tight-knit relationship to her mother, how there was no veil of secrecy between them, only a flow of transparency unlike her and her father.
then, she described her first years in america. how she was starving more than ever with almost no pay, manipulating the managers of each brothel to transfer her, running from establishment to establishment until she found the wealthy brothel chain associated with one-four-one where she met Ghost.
she described him when he was younger—“bearing a quiet, devouring hunger for power,” she had said with such simplicity it almost made you grimace. he was brash and rash fighting the law until he bribed them out of it, she explained, growing his influence through the west through bigger investments and bigger bribes.
she admitted that in her naivety, she had seen his indifference to her as a kindness, and fell in love. she waited earnestly for months until his next return when he would give her a large sum and she would spill all her secrets of illegal business syndicates reinforced by politics within the largest western hub for organized crime—san francisco.
they would mule over long nights together, piecing together motives, crimes, big players, moving pieces, in a never-ending chess game of control over the western frontier between gangs. he had trusted her all with it.
“and i never betrayed him till now,” she reminded you with a wink. “i wonder what he would do if he knew i was leading his little lamb right into the lion’s den…”
you didn’t want to know the dark thoughts that churned in her head as you watched her ponder in silence, a hand to her chin.
soon, she was drawing a shawl over your shoulders and leading you down the steps of the shop, passing through that crowded room where the seamstresses worked, shouted, and trained their attention to you with a curiosity for mere moments before they looked down at the fabrics between their hands again.
you only saw a flash of the old woman’s dark smile, an impish look in her eyes, before she was turning away and disappearing into the fray.
the girl led you out of the shop and into the street where a horse and buggy waited with a coachman at its head. it was the manager of the brothel. he grinned at you, sinister and eerie, gold tooth flashing.
when you faltered, she explained easily, “i organized it for your arrival at the party. it needs to look convincing.”
she helped you up into the carriage and you slid into it, smoothing over your dress and tugging at the shawl to keep any of your exposed skin from showing in the light of the early evening. she handed you a pair of white gloves that you slipped on and then a pearl white mask with light purple feathers.
“you have done too much for me,” you said, feeling guilty as you peered down into her face, but she shook her head.
“i told you i would help you. i have. now, you owe a debt to me,” she said, voice low and laced with threat. you suppressed a shiver but nodded eagerly nonetheless.
“i thought i was saving you from one-four-one. then, i thought i was saving you from your father. mostly, i’m saving you from yourself,” she mused, and you felt stumped as you pat your knee with a softness.
“what do you mean?” you asked with a furrowed brow, jolting when she closed the door of the carriage in your face.
you heard the coachman hitch the horses with a shout, and the carriage began meandering slowly up the road. 
you hung out the window with a panicked alarm, but she only grinned at you.
“we are the same in many ways, sister!” she shouted over the clop of hooves and the wheels churning over stone as the carriage pulled away.
sister. you had never had one of those.
“what is your name?” you called, and she shouted back, “Yue-Yi!”
the big grin on your face made your cheeks ache as Yue-Yi waved, wishing you could say so much more as she grew smaller and smaller in the distance, a shorter figure joining her by the sidewalk to wave goodbye. when you squinted your eyes, you could make out the frizzy grayed hair of the old woman.
turning back into your seat in the carriage, you tied the mask onto your face and steeled your nerves, grasping the revolver and matches through the layers of your gown with a eerie calm that settled over you like a thick veil.
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as you neared Turner’s estate, more carriages coalesced into a line, queuing up to its large, sprawling and trim lawn, adorned with hedges and fountains that twinkled in the low light of the evening.
you craned your neck out the carriage window to get a glimpse of the sheer architecture of the residency—massive and victorian, with pointed roofs and limestone carvings. you had always thought your home was impressive in your small town but this mansion dwarfed it.
the carriage lurched to a stop, horses whinnying with a stomp. you waited with bated breath in front of the great, arched entrance of the place, listening to the coachman walk over to the door of the carriage and open it, offering a polite hand.
you took it, ignoring his gold-toothed smile and tossed your shawl back into the carriage quite rudely. with the new exposure of your skin, and the growth of his grin, you jerked your hand back from his and gave him a rushed thanks.
but before you made your way up the steps to the elegant entrance, lined with guardsmen in black three-piece suits and fashionable bowler hats, where more guests lingered for admission in fancy attire, you turned back to the manager of the brothel, puffing up your chest with a new confidence.
“you,” you snapped. his brows rose in reply, sly smirk only growing more, much to your discontent.
“yes?” he said, stepping forward. you stepped back.
“Yue-Yi is one of your best workers, no?”
his mouth open and closed before nodding, that greasy smile never leaving his lips.
“you should increase her pay,” you said, impressed by the cool indifference of your own manner.
turning on your heel, you spoke over your shoulder, “or else she might find better avenues of self-employment.”
he paled slightly at that, smirk dropping from his face, and you smiled sweetly, making your way up the steps before remembering yourself. you turned back to him and his pale, stiff disposition before curtsying with the most properness your mother had ever taught you, then continued your ascent to the doors.
you didn’t look back to see if he still lingered with that dumb, pale look on his face. the very thought made you grin bigger.
the line slowly trickled through the entrance as the guardsmen checked names off a list. a new nervous fervor built in you. looking around the lines, and at women and men who lingered together in their own parties, you sidled closer to a loud, unsuspecting woman and her two other female friends, all donned in light yellows and dark magentas and fanning themselves.
when you were just steps from the entrance, the women gave the guards their names, and you craned your neck to see the interior of the residency. lavish, loud, overly decorated in golds and marbles. nothing you would expect less from the old, obnoxious Turner.
“good evening, miss,” one guardsman said, and you jolted from your thoughts, eyes snapping to his. he tilted his head. “your name?”
“i…” you felt stupid, mouth opening and closing, not sure of what to do when—
you crept closer to him, hoping it went unnoticed to the distracted parties around you, and his brows rose slightly, a strange look crossing his face.
you snuck a gloved hand onto his arm, his gaze lingered at your touch, to the exposed skin of your low-cut dress, neck, then your eyes. you cocked your head, sliding your hand up his arm.
“mary smith,” you lied with an ease, and he nodded dumbly, looking through the list. you knew that he wouldn’t find that name and he knew it too.
he cleared his throat, shifting under your touch. “no chaperone, miss?”
you wanted to curse yourself. you had become so accustomed to running off through the west without a chaperone that you had completely forgotten an unmarried, young lady needed one at all.
“maybe you could suffice, sir,” you whispered with a light giggle, and watched with amazement as a slow pink flush crept up into his ears and cheeks.
he cleared his throat again, gesturing to the entrance and avoiding your eyes, “i’m sure our boss wouldn’t mind one extra, lovely young lady.”
you smiled at that, sliding your hand very lightly across his chest as you glided past him, biting back a snort at the way he stiffened under your touch.
crossing the threshold, you stepped into the grand entrance hallway filled with people and you almost melted with relief. making an effort to get lost in the crowd, you snaked in between bodies and conversing groups, their faces adorned with feathered masks and glasses of wine between their gloved fingers.
gliding through the rooms of the residency, you wondered how you would ever find your daddy or Turner in this mess. you stiffened at the thought of crossing paths with one-four-one by mistake.
wringing your hands nervously as your head whipped around between the loud, noisy surroundings, you realized for the first time how utterly alone you were in this mansion.
hundreds of people may have been stuffed into the place, but you were the sole person on this mission, and whether one-four-one had shown up to this party or not, you were the sole person who knew your own plans to kill the party host and turn tail.
with his death, hopefully, you could carve a good chunk of your daddy’s money out of his business. you quieted any alarming thoughts about your mama.
a large drone of partygoers began moving slowly towards the opposite side of the room, and you followed the crowd into the main family room that dwarfed the houses of your small town. looking up into the curve of the ceiling adorned with paintings, a large chandelier hung down into the cavernous room littered with tables of food and colorful banisters. 
at the head of the room, near a fireplace, a man stood in a crisp black suit and bow-tie with a curling black mustache and greased black hair flecked with grays on a platform. Turner.
you hadn’t seen his beady, blue eyes and grim, twisted face since dinner with him, your daddy, and mama since months ago along with that haughty wife of his, who stood proud and arrogant by his shoulder.
your mouth soured at the sight of them and you felt around the skirt of your dress, feeling the handle of your gun through the layers.
if you shot him now, could you run away in time? and if they caught you, what would happen?
Turner took a glass cup and clinked a spoon against it, grabbing the room’s attention as it diminished into a silence.
you grasped the gun tighter between your hands.
“thank you for coming,” he said, low, rumbly voice ringing out over the crowd. “we are here today—” he reached back and you watched with amazement as a little girl stepped up onto the platform, grasping onto his hand with a shy, meek look, “—to celebrate my daughter’s birthday.”
your stomach curled at his words, grip going slack against your dress.
if you had shot him right there and then, in the midst of this swarming crowd, maybe you could’ve slipped away easily in the scrambling panic of the crowd. but he would’ve dropped dead, blood oozing from his in a dark puddle, right in front of his own daughter.
the thought made you feel nauseous.
the tall, broad frame that creeped up beside you startled you with a jolt, and you looked up to find an incredibly tall and massive body of a ginger man with a black mask tied around his face. he had his hands behind his back, looking lax with an arrogant smirk on his face. he peered down at you from his shoulder.
“hello there,” he said quietly, under the words that Turner continued to bellow to the crowd. his accent was foreign. maybe german.
“this is an interesting party, no? with masks and such,” he gestured to the crowd, and you struggled to find words. 
“i guess,” you croaked, voice scratchy and thick. his smirk only widened.
“what are you doing in this big crowd without a chaperone, little lady?”
you wanted to shrink away from him at that moment, feeling awkward and exposed under the burn of his gaze.
“i have business to conduct.”
he laughed loud and throaty, earning a few hostile glances from the people around you, and you winced, trying to step away and disappear into the crowd but his big hand came to rest on your shoulder and you went impossibly stiff. 
“i do, too, little lady.” 
he bent down closer to your ear and you shivered. “how do you know, Turner?”
your mouth opened and closed.
“family connections.”
his eyes widened beneath the mask—the color an exotic pale green that you had never seen before.
“really?” he shifted closer to you and you tugged at his grip on your shoulder, trying to move away but the strength of his massive body easily overpowered your own.
“can i tell you a secret, little lady?”
you shook your head with a strong, “no,” but he continued you anyways.
“i know you have a gun in that pocket.”
you went impossibly rigid, breath catching in your throat and he chuckled lowly in your ear.
“i don’t know who’s paying you, but they’re incredibly clever, hiring an innocent-looking little lady like you. you almost fooled me.”
you grit out through a clenched jaw, “and just who are you, sir?”
he released you with an, “ah, my apologies, i need to remember my manners.”
you turned to him, craning your head up to look up into his face, shoulders set with frustration at the prospect of somehow being… caught.
he sighed out, sounding disappointed. “you should know me if you’re in this sort of line of work, but i guess i’ll tell you my name.”
then, he gave you a lop-sided smile. “i’m Konig.”
you blinked at him. “okay.”
the smile slid off his lips. “okay? haven’t you heard of me?”
there was a bitter taste in your mouth as you shook your head slowly, and his face crunched into deeper disappointment. you almost regretted giving him the reply that you did, and you would have, if he didn’t start going on a tangent about himself.
“you should know me,” he insisted, putting a hand to his chest, “i’m Konig. i’m very famous in this line of work. i work under kortac.”
your brows pinched together, neck beginning to ache just from looking up at him.
he only sighed again. “i guess americans don’t know kortac. no matter. i’ll just have to kill you before eliminating Turner.”
at that, you jolted, beginning to scramble backwards as he reached out to you once more.
“wait—!” you shrieked, crashing into a trio of ladies that shrieked on impact, flailing as you turned to flee from the large man, but a loud, splintering shatter echoed through the entire room and the lights flickered overhead.
everything stilled and you stopped in your tracks. you looked up into the ceiling, at the chandelier overhead, stomach dropping when you saw the thing sway, then with more ear-rupturing splinters, in almost a slow-motion, began to crash down to the floor where you stood.
the entire room flooded with screams and shouts as the crowd scrambled out of the room. bodies pushed against yours and you almost fell to your knees, screeching when a hand hoisted you up and pushed you forward toward a narrow hallway stemming from the room.
a harsh german accent was in your ear, “fick mich—move, move, american!”
you did, as fast as you could, through the snaking crowd, and you clutched at your ears with a scream when gunshots rang through the room.
and when you turned to look over your shoulder, you saw a familiar broad body, clad in all black with a black mask, a tussle of dirty blonde hair shaved down on the sides of his head and pieces that hung down his forehead, and a silver scar on his upper lip with a revolver raised and aimed at Turner.
you couldn’t turn and go back with Konig’s massive body blocking your path and urging you forward. picking up the hem of your dress, you pushed through the squirming crowd and into the narrow hallway.
a resounding crash shook the entire mansion, and you almost fell to the ground again from the vibrations of it, but Konig picked you back up and pushed you behind a curtained area in the nook of the hallway.
when you were obscured from the rest of partygoers rushing through the mansion, Konig turned to you and put a hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and the other hand shoving a revolver right beneath your chin.
you clawed at his grip on your throat, glaring into the emptiness of his green eyes. with the last of your strength, you spit on his face, and he drew back his hand around your throat to wipe it away with a look of disgust. you scrambled away from him, gulping in breaths of air, but he only reached out and pulled you back with a tight grip around your arm.
you whipped your head back at him, trying to kick at him, but he pressed you to the wall with ease and a curiously amused look.
“you are not very good at this, little lady,” he admitted, and that only pissed you off.
with all your strength, you stomped as hard as you could on his foot, and he hissed out, reeling back but not easing his grip on you at all.
“i don’t even know what you’re talking about!” you shrieked, wriggling, and his brow furrowed.
“no? were you not hired to kill Turner?”
“no!” you almost screamed between desperation and frustration, and he released you. with a gasp you crashed to the floor.
“really?” he asked, helping you up with a tight grip that sent another flurrying panic through you, and you squirmed out of his touch. this time, he let you.
“yes,” you said, exasperated, fixing the dishevelment of your dress, and Konig stared at you, revolver laying limp by his side.
“oh,” he said, quietly, and you just glared at him, sending him a strange look when he began to fumble with his hands. now, he wouldn’t look at you, strangely awkward and apprehensive.
“sorry,” he mumbled, and you huffed, taking the moment to pull out your own revolver and dig it into his stomach.
he barely responded—just giving you that same distant, awkward look.
“you’re right,” you hissed, cocking the gun, and his brows only raised slightly as you continued, “i wasn’t hired to kill Turner. i’m doing this on my own accord.”
that seemed to pique his interest because he tilted his head, shoving his revolver into the breast pocket of his coat. “oh? pray tell, american?”
you rolled your eyes. “it’s none of your business, sir.”
you drew back the curtain and stomped into the hallway, looking around and unsettled by the eerie quietness of the place. most of the partygoers had emptied the mansion already, only distant gunshots and shouts and crashes of noise vibration through the place.
when you saw Turner’s men barrel past a couple corridors away, you rushed backwards with a squeak and almost screamed when you crashed into Konig’s big chest.
he looked down at you with a blank look and a steadying hand on your hip that you immediately swatted away. instead, you hurried down a corridor in the opposite direction of where Turner’s men had been headed, and felt an increasing annoyance when Konig started following you.
you turned to snap over your shoulder, “go away.”
the quiet thuds of his footsteps faltered and then picked up again and you huffed with annoyance.
turning fully to him with crossed arms and your revolver still in hand, he stopped a marginal distance from you with a hurt look on his face.
“what?” you asked, and his frown only deepened.
“let’s make an agreement, little lady.”
“why should i do that?” you asked honestly. “you’re a criminal and an assassin.”
the blank look he gave you only pulled you into self-reflection. technically, you were also a criminal, and mere steps away from a self-employed assassin.
“you want to kill Turner,” he said, and you jolted when more gunshots only got louder, maybe mere hallways away, but he continued without so much as a blink, “and i want to kill Turner for money. let’s make an agreement—i will let you kill him if you let me lie to my superiors and say that it was in fact i who killed him. otherwise, i will have to kill you for getting in my way.”
your stomach curdled at the easy way he said it.
when a smug smirk twisted his face, you winced at the sinister nature of it. “besides, you need me. i am very good at my job, no? my name is Konig for a reason.”
you mulled over his offer. what he proposed was reasonable and made perfect sense. although you didn’t know what Konig meant, you assumed he earned the name for a respectable talent in his profession. killing people.
but could you trust him?
you looked over the relaxed nature of his body, smug and arrogant and cocksure you would take up his agreement. you could trust him just as much as the devilish outlaw who earned his name for murdering without a trace—Ghost.
“alright, Konig,” you said bitterly, “let’s see how much you can offer me.”
his smirk only grew. “i can offer you a lot of things, little lady,” he sang, that arrogant look on his face only inflating as he turned on his heel and headed directly towards the gunshots.
faltering, you fell close in step behind his massive body and felt a panic when the gunshots and shouts sounded closer. he sent you a smug look and turned sharply into a different hallway, your head on a swivel for stray people as he led you into an immense library.
“why are we here?” you asked, turning in a circle to take in the multiple levels of the place. 
he didn’t answer you, only walking up to a case of books on the far edge of a book-filled wall, and reached far back into its shelves where he searched around for something with a face of concentration. you watched with unease, looking over so often at the entrance of the library with your revolver in hand.
something clicked in the wall. your eyes widened in amazement as Konig stepped back and the bookcase shifted with a squeaking grown, slowly pulling pack and screeching to the side. behind it was a narrow, dim stone corridor lit with electric bulbs.
“see?” Konig offered, hand reaching out to you, “i can offer you much more than murder, little lady.”
rolling your eyes, you took his hand and scurried down the corridor quickly for fear of the vulnerable exposure in the immense library. Konig led you down the path blanketed with a thin layer of water, the corridor dripping water overhead, and a musk, dank smell in the air. his big back was the only thing you could see in the dim lighting of the narrow hallway.
you tried to quell any lingering thoughts of anxiety coursing through you—what if Konig had taken you down here to kill you?
what if he was actually one of Turner’s men posing as a hired assassin?
that almost stopped you in your tracks, and when he sent you a confused look from over your shoulder, filled with nothing but focus on the task ahead, you scurried forward again, closer to him than you had been before.
through the never-ending winding corridors, Konig seemed to maneuver them with an eerie precision and ease, sometimes stopping to observe the halls with a sweeping glance, and then continuing ahead without so much as a word.
soon, the winding path tracked into a sharp incline until you reached a dead-end. Konig searched over the surface of the stone wall with his gloved hands and pressed around till there was a soft click and the thing stuttered open with a groan.
he gave you another victorious smirk and helped you through the entrance with a polite hand that you took begrudgingly. you entered into a bedroom this time—one that looked untouched and picked clean.
probably a guest bedroom, you realized, then jumped forward with a start when the entrance of the corroder began sliding shut behind you. it was a bookcase like before, and you watched in awe as it dragged shut backwards into its nook, settling with a cloud of dust.
Konig waved at it with a cough and strode forward to open the bedroom door and into the hallway. you followed him quickly.
peering down the empty and deadly silent hallway, you spotted a carved wood banister of a staircase at the end of it and realized that you must’ve been on an upper floor now.
“we are near Turner’s bedroom now,” Konig said, and you cocked a brow at him.
“how do you know all of this?” you pressed, and he shrugged.
“i memorized the blueprint.”
you resisted rolling your eyes, and instead with a tinge of sarcasm said, “impressive.”
he puffed up with pride and a strong nod. “i know.”
you allowed yourself to roll your eyes.
creeping along the hallway, Konig neared a grand set of carved double doors and gold handles that no doubt looked to be the primary bedroom.
“how do you know Turner will be here?” you whispered, a sudden creeping apprehension coming over you. your hands twisted around the gun to ease a heavy feeling in your chest.
this felt rushed and not right at all.
you hadn’t even prepared yourself.
you swallowed hard. how were you going to kill this man when you knew him better than the others you had killed? more than Charles and his associate and Turner’s lackey who had chased you and John down on horseback? 
“i don’t,” Konig said, placing a gloved hand on the handle, sending you a smirk, “just a good guess.”
he began to turn the gilded handle of the door when a loud gunshot ricocheted through the hallway, shattering a vase by your side as a bullet whizzed past your shoulder.
with a shriek, you scrambled back against the wall, seeing a dozen of Turner’s men rushing down the long, long corridor of the hallway, and suddenly the bedroom doors were kicked open, three guardsmen bursting through.
Konig was quick to move, shooting one in the face and the other in his leg, taking the third beneath his arm and crushing his neck in a quick jerk that had him falling limp to the carpet.
the man with the shot leg screamed in pain, clutching at his own leg and hobbling near you with a scrunched expression. you bit back any feeling of sympathy and wound up your good arm, punching him straight in the face.
he fell to the ground with a thud and Konig gave you an approving, crazy laugh, reloading his revolver and shot down the hall—two men fell in his wake.
“go,” he urged, jerking his head in the direction of Turner’s room, and its doors that were swung wide open, “i will take care of these men, little lady, you just remember our agreement!”
“wait—” you called with an outstretched arm, a gripping uncertainty wracking you, but Konig was already gone.
at the conjoinment of another hallway, more of Turner’s men poured into the vicinity, and you heard Konig curse loudly as he rushed forward, before a new slew of people flooded into the opposite side of the hallway.
you recognized a broad, blonde male as Ghost and another smaller blonde form as Kate, Soap, John, and Gaz somewhere in the fray, and with Alejandro and Rudolfo and los vaqueros added to it, it looked like the real war Ghost had promised you days ago.
is this why he had left you at that brothel this morning? because a full-drawn out war would happen right here in Turner’s mansion? knowing you would refuse to stay away from the bloodshed if he hadn’t lied to you last night?
even now, with all his lies, you had refused to stay away anyways.
you clutched at your own chest, trying not to sink down into the floor and stay there forever, and pushed yourself from the carpet, heaving yourself up onto the handle of the doors and slamming both shut behind you quickly.
with heavy, panicked breaths that forced through your choked up throat, you fought back any tears that brimmed in your eyes as you pressed your forehead to the cool surface. you felt lightheaded and eerily light. you wanted Yue-Yi’s tight grip on you to ground you again. or Ghost’s arms to wind around you. or even the mean pinch of your mama’s fingers on your skin.
tears fell down your cheeks.
Ghost—would he be okay? alive? 
even Konig, who you had just met, who had been so willing to help you, for no good reason, mirroring the way he seemed to work without much reasoning at all, had you doubled over with nauseating worry.
the soft click of a gun behind you had you stiffening.
slowly, you turned from the door, grip tight on your own revolver that you hid from sight behind the wide berth of the skirt of your evening gown.
you were met with the sight of Turner, standing poised and indigent, revolver trained on you. you didn’t miss the shake in his hands.
he looked so much less pronounced in person. graying and old and aging and just as wrinkly as you remembered him to be, but less sinister than your mind painted him. average and normal and face stricken with the same sort of roiling panic you were feeling in the moment. you took him in with a new ease.
despite being the west’s biggest gang leader, he seemed diminished in such a close proximity.
“you,” he hissed, lip curled with disgust, “i thought you were dead.”
you swallowed hard, tight throat and unable to produce a single sound.
behind him, you saw his wife cowering in the corner with his small daughter trembling in her embrace.
you narrowed your eyes at them and Turner stepped forward sharply in threat.
you found your voice, steady and strong, “where are my daddy and mama?”
he scoffed, looking away from you briefly before brandishing the revolver around at you. it only reminded yourself of when you had been scared and inexperienced with a weapon.
“afraid i killed them?” he asked with a sinister smile, and a roil of annoyance wrung through you.
you trained your gun on his wife and daughter who shrieked, the little girl shaking with sniveling cries. Turner stiffened.
“you wouldn’t,” he said, voice low and rumbling with a ferocity, and you just nodded.
“i wouldn’t, so i’ll let them leave before i kill you.”
his eyes flashed, lips twisted into a menacing scowl.
“fine.”
his wife and daughter skirted out the room, crumpled down and low to the floor as they scurried past you out the double doors of the room. as soon as you shut the entrance behind them with a shaky exhale, tuning back to Turner, he lurched towards you with a strangled shout.
you reeled back, back slamming against the doors as he swung for you, and you ducked, scrambling over the floor with a shriek. he grabbed a fistful of your dress and pulled you back towards him across the carpet, wrestling you down to the ground, and you punched and shoved at his face, rolling across the carpet and trying to squirm out of his tight grip. his hands found your neck and crushed down on your throat with a strength that pushed all the air from your lungs.
you jerked up your knee, hitting him straight in a sore spot that had him hissing and grip going slack, just enough to shove him off you with as much strength as you could muster, and he skidded away, landing against the floor with a thud.
you gasped for breath, light-headed but vision sharper than ever as you raised the revolver, just before Turner was reaching for something across the carpet—a small white box.
your eyes widened. you recognized it as the one Yue-Yi had gifted you—wreak havoc, she had said, and you watched with a curl of panic as he struck a match and threw it to the edge of the room, a blooming fire bursting forth with a rush of shocking heat that had you crossing your arms over your face with a scream.
you scrambled back from the fire that consumed the room with a terrifying speed, revolver trained on Turner’s crumpled figure sprawled over the floor a marginal distance away.
he picked up his head and gave you a sinister look.
“your daddy and mama are dead.”
a strangled, animalistic sound clawed through your throat, and you screamed as a sob wracked you, aiming your revolver and shooting him right in the knee.
he screamed, shifting away from you, the pristine white carpet pooling with a new crimson puddle and singing at the edges with an ominous black.
you struggled to breath in the room, the air tinged with a thick smog and flickers of strewn ash that felt hot when they landed on your skin.
“i doused this entire mansion with gas,” he rasped, coughing through the smoke, “if you try to kill me, you’ll burn with me.”
he laughed, body shaking violently when more coughs wracked through him, blood splattering across the carpet and painting his lips with an unnatural red.
slowly, you made your way towards your knees with a great effort, your exposed skin flushed painfully from the heat of the surrounding fire, a portion of the canopy bed behind him crumbling, fire spreading across the carpet with hot, swelling licks.
you tried to scream but couldn’t through the tight swollen soreness of your throat, edging from its path as it skirted around you.
you forced words out, a searing raw pain in your throat, “why would you do this?”
all of it? you wanted to scream, why would he try to kill you? your daddy? your mama?
then, you coughed, hand pressed to your mouth as the motion shook you to your core, tears spilling down your cheeks to dispel the smoke, and his smile only grew. 
“i own you,” he whispered, barely audible over the loud crackle of the fire, curtains melting away from the windows as the carpet peeled up from the floorboards.
“i won’t let that bastard Simon Riley take you from me.”
you almost snarled at him, tempted to aim your revolver at his head and just put a whole round into his brain. but that felt rushed and not right at all.
you wanted him to suffer. painful and slow. the thought gave you a sliver of sanity.
you hissed out, “i won’t kill you.”
his eyes flashed, twitching against the carpet like he was going to tackle you again, but the stiffness in his bloody, soaked pant leg prevented him from moving.
you smiled—so wide that it cracked your dry lips.
“i’ll leave you to burn in hell,” you said, clambering to your feet, swaying in the open air, dizzy and nausea wringing through your head, because you just couldn’t really breathe, and Turner let out a strangled cry.
“you can’t leave!” he said, voice tinged with a ferocious desperation as he clawed forward suddenly, and the quick motion had you reeling backwards and tipping back to the world swung in front of your eyes.
you fell back down against the carpet, face narrowly missing a ring of fire, more furniture crumpled chunks of ash and blackened wood just beyond it.
“i own you,” he snarled, voice a throaty sinister rasp. his hand closed around your ankle and a new curling disgust bloomed from deep within your gut.
you looked down at him and thrust the tip of your revolver against his sweaty, red forehead. his eyes blew wide, bloody lips parting with a new fearful sort of shock that twisted your stomach in the most pleasant ways you didn’t know that you could feel.
“i choose who owns me,” you whispered, and you knew he heard you from the way his eyes just stretched further, and you blew straight clean through his forehead.
he fell completely limp against the carpet, lifeless and void of the crawling desperation you had just seen mere moments before.
more tears came pouring down your cheeks and you shoved your knee into the side of his face, biting back a scream when you saw the gaping, bloody gouge of flesh in his forehead and the cool, empty placidness of his blue eyes.
you killed him. his warm grip was still around your ankle.
scrambling back away from the dead body, you gasped when the exposed skin of your arm was enveloped with something unbearably hot, wet, and rippling in undulations.
pulling your arm away from the fire, you stared in horror at the new char of your skin and the way your silk gloves had half-melted into your arm with a goopy liquidity.
the scalding pain sharpened your senses, and you hauled yourself towards the double doors, raw skin flush to the carpet, and you strained up to the handles of the doors, fingers just wrapping around it when the door opened from beneath you.
you fell forward with your eyes screwed shut, trying to push yourself off the ground, and gentle hands hoisted you towards a broad, strong body low to the ground.
“princess, princess, princess—”
lips were against your ear and you immediately curled into his touch, eyes fluttering open to see his warmth and inviting just mere inches from your own.
face maskless and bare.
you had never felt so much relief.
“Simon?” you squeaked, voice meek and quiet and half as strong as you had forced it to be the whole day. you melted into him, muscles going lax with weakness.
he hissed when you leaned against him, and you pulled back slightly to take in the charred material of his suit stuck to an oozing wetness beneath it—sopping red with blood.
you choked on more sobs but he just shushed you, stroking a hand through your hair before pressing his face to your neck, then your hair.
“it’ll be alright, princess.”
you had never heard his voice so weak before. he leaned back against the ground, the walls still up in flames around him, and you watched his body fight to stay up before sliding slowly to the ground.
you pulled yourself forward, fighting back coughs as you laid next to him.
“you need to get up,” he rasped, pushing you away with a hand. the movement just made you hiss in desperate frustration.
“no. m’staying right here,” you said, curling closer to him, and he let you, face soft and relaxed as the entrance to Turner’s bedroom crumbled just beyond your feet.
you took in the curves of his bare face—the age and lines and scars that reflected only a shimmering honesty in the fragile moment.
with great effort you craned over him to kiss that silvery scar on his upper lip, and when you pulled back he only gave you a weak smile.
“you never listen to me,” he whispered, voice throaty and wrung through, and you could only smile back.
“never,” you agreed, intertwining your fingers with his.
“i was late this morning,” he rasped, nosing through your hair, “and when i arrived you were gone.
“i thought you finally came to your bloody senses and ran away—” he was cut off by a series of wracking coughs, and you pressed your forehead to your intertwined hands, shaking with sniveling tears.
“i thought you had abandoned me,” you whispered.
he kissed the crown of your head. “never.”
you melted into him.
he sounded stricken with anger. “i’ve lied to you.”
“i know,” you said, brushing a finger over the lightness of his lashes.
“you were supposed to run away,” he said weakly, “you were never supposed to stay. since the beginning, you were supposed to run away.”
“is that why you were late this morning?” you croaked, and he nodded against your hair.
“i was relieved when you were gone,” he said, “but i think it killed me.”
with drooping eyelids and a swirling smog clouding your senses, you distantly remembered how you felt that morning. like you had left behind your shattered heart in that brothel. like you had died in that room and you left behind your body and you were floating as a ghost through the san francisco streets. 
“leaving killed me,” you said softly, through rough coughs, and he only pulled you closer. 
“you weren’t supposed to be here, either,” he muttered, breaths shallow and weak in your ear.
you craned your neck to look up at him, taking in his face fully, and the droop of his tired eyes, before thumbing over the scars along his jaw.
“anything else to confess to me?” you asked, soft and he nodded.
“i lied to you.”
your brow pinched, another cough rippling from your throat. “i know that.”
he shook his head with a weakness that had your heart crumbling. “long time ago. that night on the train.”
the breath died in your throat and he pressed his forehead against yours, warm and solid.
“i said i bedded you for revenge. i lied.”
the floor fell away from beneath you and you felt like you were floating.
“why?” you croaked, and his smile was wistful.
“so full of questions.”
“always,” you said, pressing him further, but his eyes closed, breaths growing with a louder rasp now. a violent panic crawled up your chest and you nudged him, relieved when his eyes cracked open again.
“in time,” he whispered, and the strangled, frustrated sound that left your throat that only made his smile grow.
“i’m sorry i didn’t take you on that date,” he said, and you shook your head, the tip of your nose against his.
“i know why you didn’t,” you insisted, and he frowned.
“you’re supposed to be mad at me.”
you frowned back. “stop telling me what i’m supposed to be.”
at that, he only smirked, looking strangely satisfied as he stroked a thumb over the exposed, hot, raw skin of your neck.
you took a shaky deep breath, only swallowing down more smoke that had you coughing with a grimace. “just…”
his dark, swirling eyes that were so familiar now were dimmed but just as warm. you took your charred hand, ignoring the searing pain of it, and brushed it over his blonde hair. he closed his eyes at your gentle touch.
“please kiss me,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered open, lurching forward with a stiff clumsiness at the awkward position, and suddenly his warm lips were pressed to your own.
you didn’t know what you were doing—just that the rhythmic movement of his soft flesh molding against yours had a honey warmth dripping through your chest and fluttering down your spine.
you tried to match him, flushing at the feeling of his every breath melding into your every exhale in a never-ending steady pulse. your hands snaked into his hair and gripped softly, and a low noise left his throat.
your head spun with the lack of oxygen, and more heavenly moments stretched on until he pulled back, licking over his lips like he had by the railway yesterday. like he was tasting you.
“not bad, princess,” he whispered, eyes fluttering close with a weakness. you pressed against him, unable to fight the droop of your own eyes anymore, a pleasant muffle filling your head, and a purpling black, splotchy glaze dancing from behind your eyelids.
the last thing you felt were his lips against your cheek, the sound of the fire consuming the splintering, crumbling house with loud crackles, distant shouts, and Simon’s soft breaths against your skin.
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okay okay i know that this chapter doesn't have smut or much fun stuffff but i hope you liked konig's appearance LMFAO but i can confirm that next chapter there will be 1. the do 😵‍💫 like fr this time 😵‍💫 2. JEALOUS GHOST SDLFJSLEIFJ 3. and yea less angst pls and thank you
i love all of you. please have a wonderful weekend <3 next chapter will be uploaded tuesday (ON TIME TOO)!!
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miyazas · 2 years
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SNEAKING INTO YOUR ROOM — FT.HAIKYUU
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[❤︎] — Suna Rintaro, Miya Atsumu, Issei Matsukawa & Kuroo Tetsuro
Warnings: fem!reader, suggestive, (1) ass slap from Suna
PART 2 | PART 3 | TOKREV VER
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SUNA RINTARO ༢
“Hurry up rin.” You hissed as Suna struggled to fit himself into your window. “Suna Rinataro, my neighbor is going to see you and tell my parents if you don’t hurry up.” Grunting, he finally pulls himself into your room, thumping on the floor. “Rin, stop making so much noise!” You scurry and shut your window. “Yea whatever, c'mere and give me a hug.” holding in a smile you fall to his lap and squeeze him. “Damn baby, squeezing me like I’m your lifetime.” “Shut up Rin, I won’t hesitate to push you out of my window.” You say as you stand up and walk to your bed with Suna following closely behind. Before you can get into bed Suna pushes you face forward and slaps your ass. “Rinnie!” You squeak. “That’s what you get for threatening me, pretty girl, now I want an apology kiss.”
MIYA ATSUMU ༢
Stifling a giggle you pull onto Atsumu’s jacket sleeve as he swings his legs over the window seal. “Don’t yank me baby, gonna make me fall—ya want me to die or somethin’?” Ignoring his teasing tone you jump into his arms as soon as he finds his footing in your room. “Ya miss me hmm?” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and walking you back to the bed. “Missed you s’much tsumu.” You whisper, tightening your legs seeing his muscular waist. Atsumu smiles when he feels you leave light kisses on his neck before gently setting you down on your bed. Whining at the loss of contact, you open your mouth to say something before he falls on top of you. “Tsumu!” You yell before Atsumu squishes your cheeks together and gives you a fat kiss. “missed ya too angel, s’much.”
ISSEI MATSUKAWA ༢
Mattsun hides in your closet trying hard not to make any noise as your mom searches your room. “Mom nobody is in here, you must’ve heard something.” You muttered, sitting at the foot of your bed as your mother looked around your room. After a few more minutes of searching and not finding anything out of the ordinary she gives up, muttering a goodnight. After she shuts the door you run to your closet, opening the door for Issei as he all but topples out of the cramped space. “Jesus Christ, baby.” He grunts, stretching his cramped muscles. “This is your fault Issei! You’re the one who fell through the window and woke the entire neighborhood!” You pointed out. “Don’t be so dramatic princess, everything is ok, now c'mere, I need you to use those pretty hands and rub my sore muscles.” He grabs your hips and brings the both of you to the bed, setting you on his lap. Giving into your tall boyfriend, you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him into a sweet kiss. The impromptu make-out session doesn’t last long when you hear your mom gasp, you are so dead.
KUROO TETSURO ༢
You feel someone repeatedly nudging you, pulling you out of sleep. “Kitten? Kitten I gotta go.” Kuroo whispers. Tightening your arms around his hard chest, you mumble something incoherent. Chuckling he kisses your forehead, unwrapping his arms and legs from your body. “Noooo, don’t go Tetsu.” You whine. “I gotta go kitten, don’t want your dad to find me in your room at five in the morning do you?” That wakes you up because no, you would rather die than see what happens if your dad finds out your boyfriend snuck in and spent the night. “Hmm did that wake you up baby?” Tetsu teases. “Shut up and get out of my room Kuroo.” “Ok ok, but before I leave can you wipe this puddle of drool you left on my chest?” “Tetsu!”
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5K notes · View notes
strangelure · 7 months
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it's what you want
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i had so much fun writing about adrian that i just HAD to do a lil addition to my other drabble 🥹. Hope you guys enjoy, as always comments and reblogs are super appreciated <3
adrian chase x reader warnings: voyeurism as the main theme, brief violence and mentions of attempted murder, adrian is a sociopath and acts like it lmao, smut. This is strictly an 18+ fic, MINORS DNI.
You feel the beat of your heart thrumming in your ears when you knock on Adrian Chase's door. 
When he opens, he's got that wide eyed, slacked jawed, naive look on his face. The infuriating one he wears most of the time and that normally you would find cute.
Right now, it makes your blood boil.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" You spit, feeling your voice crack a little bit with the bile.  
Adrian blinks in astonishment a couple times in response to the sheer volume of your voice, but his features nevertheless quickly morph into petulant annoyance.
“I’m not doing anything actually” He replies , smiling only to unsuccessfully hide the real bitchy way in which he says it. 
Him lying to your fucking face you had gotten more than used to. But the pettiness oozing from his words this time was definitely something new.
Was that, jealousy? 
It had been a perfectly good night, you had met a hot guy at the bar, you brought him to your apartment where things got way too steamy way too quick. 
But then- 
Loud and booming pop music coming from the other side of your wall was drowning out every single sound in your apartment. 
So here you where, confronting your neighbor. Your stupidly pretty yet no less annoying neighbor. “Turn that shit down, Chase.”
"Why? cant a guy listen to Taylor Swift on a friday night in peace?” He asks, with a hilariously affronted look on this face. 
And a part of you wants to laugh at the sight of his heavily pronounced scowl, but you cant offer him that sort of satisfaction just yet. 
“You know why” You say, fighting the urge to shift your eyes to the dead-beat couch behind him.
The couch in which he had quite literally fucked your brains out, before he had disappeared on you for almost 3 weeks. 
You knew quite probably it was due to Vigilante business, but still. It didn't feel better than any other guy ghosting you outta nowhere.
"Well I really, really dont" He answers once more. Proving nothing but his stubbornness at this point.
Fuck, he makes you want to scream sometimes. 
And you start to feel hot with the shame of it, the thought of having to tell him that you're trying to get laid without him being so adamant on killing the fucking mood. 
Since when did Adrian Chase have the power to make you feel embarrassed? 
Oh no, you cant have that. 
"Thought you liked hearing me fuck" You tell him before even considering if people might be walking past. "S'not doing it for you anymore?" You tease, trying to feel yourself get to higher ground.
He gives you a loud scoff, tongue pressed against his cheek.
You smile, triumphant, teasing. But then suddenly Adrian is looking at you with curious eyes.
So nothing prepares you for what his answer would be. 
“Fine! If you want me to listen in. I will!" He says, in a casual yet childish tone. As if he’s reluctantly giving in to something you wanted in the first place.
The blood drains from your face. 
"I d-didn’t say i wanted you to listen in" You stammer, having a hard time sounding convincing. For some reason? 
"Oh" He adds, and you cant tell if its genuine surprise on his voice or not. 
He twists his mouth as if he's thinking hard about it.
"So that's not why you’re here then?” He asks, with that same stupid naive look in his face as when he had first opened the door. 
You realize, with a hard punch, that he wields more power over you than you ever gave him credit for. 
“Just turn it down, Adrian” You mumble, scurrying away back to your apartment. In a hurry to finish what you had started, now with even more urgency than before. 
For some reason. 
-
It hits you when you least want it to. The idea of him pressing his ear on the other side of the wall, hearing every little sound you make. 
Maybe with a hand stroking at himself, his pants all the way down his ankles. Going faster when he hears how your bed creaks with the movements of the stranger fucking up into you. Pathetic. 
The stranger in question wasn’t at all bad, but its very telling how all of a sudden your voice is raising in pitch every time you moan out in approval. 
And poor guy, it only spurs him on. 
But then as if it were a bad drug, you cant stop. Theres only images of Adrian in your head. 
You think of the way his eyebrows would dip in desperation. 
The way he would say the most debauched things to you in such a casual care-free manner.
"Fuck, you're like- soaking my couch right now" He had said, when he was buried to the hilt inside of you. "Dripping all over it" 
As if it were a simple observation, as if the comment wasn't degrading in any way. The shame of it took you so off guard it had made your eyes clench shut. 
"M'sorr-" You had tried to apologize, but were forced to choke on the response when Adrians hand had reflexively moved to hold tightly at your throat. 
“Shit i think its gonna make me blow my load any second. Fuck, Can i do that? like inside? Oh god- please let me-” His voice was frantic and whiny, asking so many questions as if your windpipe wasn't  restricted. 
As if he wasn't already gushing inside you with how tight you were squeezing at him.  
As if he wasn't laughing that breathy laugh at how your aftershocks were making you push at his shoulders to try and get him to relent. 
Your imagination runs so wild with images of him that it sort of slips out. Just his name.  
"A-Adrian" 
-
You had apologized a dozen times for the frankly embarrassing mishap of moaning the wrong name in bed. But that didn't stop the stranger from calling you a "Fucking bitch" before he tries to exit your apartment in anger.
"The Hell-" He says, shocked by the image of a guy just waiting on him to open the door and blocking his way out. 
Adrian is standing there, with an upward twist on his lips. 
Oh no. You think. 
"Wow, really? calling them a bitch just because your dick game is weak as hell? thats just really uncool dude" Adrian is talking in his unintentionally mocking tone of voice. 
And of course the tall guy you had in your bed only minutes ago thinks that the man with plaid pajama pants and glasses is gonna be easy to throw around. 
"The fuck you think you are?" He goes to grab at Adrian by the collar, but is stopped midway by a strong hand twisting at his wrist with unmerciful strength.
You have to hold back a yelp at the sight, but thankfully Adrian is loosening his grip when the man has no choice but to double over with the pain.
He smiles and shrugs, a triumphant sort of grin. "I'm Adrian" He says, like its obvious. "The neighbor"
You just know the stranger's head must be doing flips. With the way he stares at you and then back at him and then to his wrist and then back at him with an incredulous look. 
"You two are insane“ He gestures to you both, before he storms off down the hallway. 
You stare dumbfounded as he walks away. Did that really just happen? 
"Really fucking nice to meet you too dude" Adrian yells at him, and effectively snaps you out of it.
He's standing there, hands on his hips. Before he turns to look at you with squinting and judging eyes.
"You know you should really stop hanging out with all these psychos" He admonishes. 
Oh, how ironic. 
-
"Im pretty sure i almost killed that guy once. For doing poppers." Adrian is babbling letting out hysterical laughs here and there, as if your hands aren't desperately pulling at the strings of his pants. 
"Glad you didn’t catch him" You say. As in, we wouldn’t be doing this on my bed right now if you had. Not really paying attention to his words and knowing you dont have time to unpack all of that.
“I jabbed a dagger into his leg and i think that thing reached his fucking bone. It was awesome-“ He continues, with a proud smile. 
You're really not in the mood for conversation though. At least not that kind. 
Getting more and more impatient by the second, you take matters into your own hands. (no, literally)
"Were you jerking off?" You ask, interrupting him while also sliding a hand down his underwear.  "Listening?"
The hiss he lets out at the sudden touch makes you giggle.
And hes too busy looking at the way your wrist moves to even give you the dignity of an answer. 
Oh so now he decides to shut the fuck up. 
"Huh?" He asks when you stop your movements and force him look up at you. "Oh yeah. Yeah i totally was" He says with incredible sincerity and quickness, as if to say: yeah its whatever, just keep going. 
His mouth is going slack, and uncontrollable whimpering sounds are escaping his lips.
The confession alone makes you sigh out a needy, pathetic sound. 
“You did?” You ask again, selfishly wanting to hear him say it again as you unceremoniously pull at his pants, take him out of his boxers and sink your body down on him.
It makes you both let out a guttural sound at the blinding relief.  
“Y-Yeah. Was tugging on it so hard that i thought i was gonna tear my dick off.” He says, his voice going tight with the effort to keep talking while you're doing that with your hips.
“Fuck, Adrian-“ 
You sigh out the warning in the form of his name, slapping a hand on his mouth and using it for leverage as you speed up your rhythm mercilessly. 
If he keeps talking, you have a feeling it will be over before you even start. 
And how interesting, that Adrian's lower half bucks up and his eyes roll back as soon as you try to silence him. 
"S'what you wanted right?" He asks, still ignoring your efforts and that his voice comes out muffled.
Like he needs to hear your approval. Like he needs you to tell him how much of a good boy he was. 
You dont answer, because the events of the night have you not thinking straight anymore. You do smile at him though, your eyes shining perversely.
And Adrian doesn't say anything else either, accepting his fate.
You only see how his eyebrows dip beneath his fogged up glasses and feel more than hear his needy groans and explicit words vibrating against your palm.
It was definitely going to end embarrassingly quickly.
692 notes · View notes
hirukochan · 8 months
Text
Stood-up
A Severus Snape x fem!reader Oneshot
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3
Pairing: Severus Snape x former student reader
Summary: Your former professor saves you from embarrassment when your blind date doesn't show up to the fancy restaurant you were meant to meet at.
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Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity, virgin reader
Wordcount: 5007
Read on Ao3 or below the cut
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You did not expect life after Hogwarts to be…this. Whatever this is. Boring. That much is certain. You finished school five years ago with good grades and that was it. You celebrated your graduation with your friends who were already gushing about their future careers and their dream jobs, and you had nothing to offer to the conversation. You didn’t know what you wanted to do after school. And five years later you still don’t know.
You wanted to move out of your parents’ house and so you went to interviews for any job you thought yourself decently qualified for. You ended up working in a depressing little second hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. The owner, some rich fuck that doesn’t even live in London, pays you well to take care of anything that needs taking care of because the shop belonged to his wife’s grandfather, and she can’t bear separating with it. 
You also get to live rent-free in the one-room flat above the store. You have a kitchen, a bed and a bathroom and no controlling boss looming over your every move. Life is…good. It’s ok, nothing groundbreaking, but how many people get that? How realistic is an action filled, thrilling life actually?
Your friends seem content with life as it is and so you try to be content as well. 
In reality you feel lost.
You have looked into universities, but you aren’t sure if you’d be good enough and the fear of failing holds you back. Besides, what would you even study? In school charms had been your favourite, but was that because of the subject or your teacher? Professor Flitwick had made each class a delight to be in.
You shove the thoughts away, focusing on finishing up closing the store. A friend has set up a blind-date for you. Some guy she works with at the Ministry. She has gushed about him endlessly and you are sure were she not in a relationship herself - she would totally try to date him. 
That is a recipe for disaster, but you want to indulge your friend or perhaps just make her shut up and so you go along.
You lock up the shop and hurry upstairs to shower, change and put on some makeup. An hour later you are standing outside the shop, mentally preparing for the apparition. You are certain you’ll never get used to it.
Pleasant, classical music floods the street as you open the door to the wizarding restaurant and bar in central London. This is already outside your comfort zone. Too fancy and too full. Are you underdressed? Are you overdressed? Shit, what if he isn’t here yet?
“Reservation for Everett.” You say to the hostess who swishes her wand and looks through the list of reservations.
“This way, madam. Your partner is not here yet.” Shit. Of course, he wouldn’t be. You are early. Way too early. Pathetic, desperate early.
The hostess shows you to your table and you smile kindly as you sit down. A waiter hurries over to you and asks for your drink order.
“Wine. Red, please.” The waiter is gone before you can finish your sentence. A glass of wine floats to your table shortly after. You let your eyes wander over the room as you take small sips. A few couples sit at the tables, some more stand at the bar, chatting with each other.
You wait.
And wait.
Three glasses later you know you got stood up. You try to fight the tears stinging in your eyes and dig through your purse for some money to pay for the drinks and scurry out of the restaurant as fast as possible. 
How pathetic! Hot shame spreads through your chest, your guts twist at the mere thought of getting up and leaving. Your feet don’t work. They simply won’t respond to your command. With all your willpower you stifle a sob in your throat. This is your last straw.
All the disappointment over life after Hogwarts, the loneliness, being lost and left behind by the golden opportunities your future had promised you - and now not even your date could bother to show up! You didn’t even want to meet him. Prick!
“Ms. (L/N)?” You flinch. That voice. You are sure that voice would give you war-like flashbacks for the rest of your life. Running through corridors at night, blood pounding in your ears, already feeling safe as the entrance to your common room approaches just to be violently stopped by those words.
You turn and meet the dark eyes of your former professor for potions. 
Severus Snape has not changed in the five years since you last saw him. The same hooked nose, same pale skin. Black greasy hair falling into his face. The long black robes hiding every inch of his skin.
“P-professor Snape.” You reply, because you have to say something. His eyes wander over you, clearly made up for a date and then twitch to the empty seat across from you. They narrow as they see the three empty glasses and the slight redness of your eyes. Without saying anything he slips into the seat across from you.
“Two glasses of whatever the lady has been drinking.” He says as he grabs a waiter by the arm. He gestures towards the glasses. “And get rid of these. What kind of service is this?” The waiter apologises profusely and hurries away quickly. 
You stare at Snape in bewilderment. He is sitting across from you. He saw you got stood up and sat down. And he ordered drinks. 
He is looking at you. Say something. Anything. Shit shit shit.
“I was supposed to meet someone.” You say, cursing how meek you sound. You look away and try to subtly wipe the corner of your eye where a stubborn little tear tries very hard to run down your cheek. You know if you allow that one to pass your lashes, there is no holding back the rest.
“I gathered.” He leans back in his chair, his eyes still roaming over you. Instantly you feel like you are back in the dungeons of Hogwarts, trying your best to brew a potion while he stares at you, waiting for the moment you fail. You swallow hard as the familiar nervousness of being around Snape takes over.
“A boyfriend?”
“N-no. A friend set it up- never met him.”
“What do you do these days?” You blush. You were afraid he might ask that.
“I-I run a little b-bookshop in Diagon Alley…sir.” The ‘sir’ slips out before you can stop it. A smirk tucks at the corners of his mouth at the sound of it but dies instantly.
“A bookshop? And you’re happy with that?” You shrug. You aren’t, but you wouldn’t tell him that. You cling to your glass. This is worse than getting stood up and humiliated. Infinitely worse. Snape leans over the table, his dark eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.
“I am not going to bite you. Unless-” You tense. Is he flirting? Merlin’s beard- You feel heat rise to your face and stare down at the wine in your hands. “I apologise. This is inappropriate and you clearly wish to be as far away from me as possible. I’ll leave you to it.” Snape says, an edge of self-loathing sneaking into his voice. He digs through his pocket and puts down a few coins on the table.
“Stay-” You have no idea how you manage to force the word out of your constricting throat but there it is. Out in the open. 
Snape stares at you in disbelief. You take a shaky, deep breath and look up to meet his intense gaze.
“Stay.” You repeat, firmer this time. That expression flashes through his eyes again and after a moment of hesitation he settles down.
“U-unless I am keeping you from meeting someone. I-” You hadn’t considered why he might be here. Shit, is he on a date? And instead of that he took pity on you? Does Snape date? 
He chuckles. The sound as foreign to your ears as kindness or praise from him. It goes straight to your core, and you gulp as you are violently tossed back into your old crush. That is the last thing you need now! 
Imagining him doing all sorts of things to you during class was bad enough already - mainly because it really messed with your grade - but imagining them now that you are no longer his student, no longer sixteen- You blush even more as you realise that - in theory - you could do these things now. 
It has been five years since you graduated, sure it is a bit weird maybe, but entirely allowed. You have not been in contact with him since graduation. He has made no inappropriate comment to you while you were his student ever- in fact he barely ever talked to you.
You feel Snape’s hot gaze burn through your skull. It’s almost like he knows. Which is entirely impossible. Or is it? He has the uncanny ability to know when students are planning mischief behind his back and such things as reading minds isn’t at all a ridiculous idea to wizards- shit.
Snape’s lips curl as you stare at him.
“Oh, yes.” His smooth voice says in your head. “I know. I know all the little fantasies you have been coming up with for years.” The colour vanishes from your face. You take a big gulp of your wine, downing the entire thing in one go to aid your suddenly parched throat. Snape swirls the wine in his glass, never taking his eyes off you.
“A-and is that some-something you’d…you’d want?” You ask. Your heart twists and turns in your chest, your insides clench almost uncomfortably. You have no idea where you take the bravery from to say it out loud. 
His grin grows, his eyes darken, snapping down to the neckline of your dress. In one smooth movement he gets up and holds his hand out to you.
This is it.
The one opportunity you’d get.
You take his hand. 
Your skin tingles where it touches him and a giddy feeling spreads through you. 
You are going to sleep with your Potions professor. Former professor. Dark, unapproachable, cruel Snape. The man you have been fantasising about since 6th grade. The man that terrifies you as much as he intrigues you.
Together you leave the restaurant. He guides you towards an abandoned alley and lets go of your hand to snake his arm around your waist.
“Hold on tight.” He whispers in his ear. You can feel his breath on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine. You take a shaky breath and put your arms around his waist. You are swept up in his scent, musky and herbal. It clouds your mind instantly and you bite your tongue so you don’t inhale deeper just so it can flood your senses more. His magic wraps around you and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for the apparition to pass. You can feel the chuckle rumble through Snape’s chest before you hear it.
“Still no fan?” 
“No.” You reply breathless and separate from him. He holds onto your waist, eyeing you as though he expects you to collapse. Right- You did. During Apparition training in your 7th year, you lost consciousness after your first successful attempt. He was one of the teachers overseeing the training. 
You blush as the memory of how embarrassed you felt waking up in his arms, your whole year watching, resurfaces in your mind. You clear your throat and look around. You’re in Diagon Alley, not far away from the bookshop. You dig through your pocket and get out the key as you walk towards it. 
You are going to have sex. 
You are going to have sex with Snape. He’s walking right behind you. Nervous doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel.
“This is it.” You say and close the door behind you. Your flat looks terribly small with Snape standing in it. 
“Do you still want me to stay?”
“Yes. I’m just-”
“Yes?” He steps closer.
“You intimidate me.”
“Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?”
“Good.” You reply breathlessly. Your mind is already foggy just from him standing so close to you. His eyes roam over your face, as though he is determined to enter all its details to his memory. Your heart beats impossibly fast in your chest, smashing against your ribcage so hard you wonder whether Snape can hear it. He leans down, inky hair falling into his face, stealing your view of the room around you. 
Your insides clench and scream for him to kiss you. Finally kiss you. You bite your bottom lip to stop its pathetic quivering. His scent floods your senses and briefly renders your mind nonexistent. 
Snape runs his fingertips over your arm, starting at your wrist and drawing goosebumps across your naked skin, all the way up to your shoulder. Your breath hitches and you barely manage to withstand the urge to hold onto him.
“You’d have to take this off first.” He says, quiet, calm. His voice sends a shiver through your body. He drags his fingers over your shoulder to your neck. He takes the zipper and slowly pulls it down, the sound resounds in your room loud like thunder. 
He barely touches your skin when he peels the straps off your shoulder and gently tugs the dress down and over your hips. It pools around your feet on the ground.
Snape takes a step back and takes in your body. You aren’t wearing a bra, you own none that would have looked good with the dress and stand in front of him only in a pair of black lace knickers.
His eyes remain as unreadable as they always are. He seems to assess your body with the same impartiality as he used to look at your potions. You shiver, cold air swirling around your heated skin, goosebumps spread across your skin and your nipples harden. Your face is burning hot though, and you barely resist the impulse of covering yourself with your arms.
Just when you begin to think this is some cruel joke, he is playing on you to embarrass you, he closes the distance between you two - too fast for your mind to catch up. He grabs your waist and smashes your body against his. His lips crash against your collarbone, his teeth graze your skin.
You gasp and sink your hands into his hair, marvelling at how soft it feels. He kisses your skin, sucks and nibbles. White hot lust seeps into your skin from the saliva he spreads across it. 
He holds your waist in his surprisingly strong arms and attacks your chest, worshipping every inch of you as though you are some ancient artefact promising prosperity and luck to loyal devotees. He groans against you, and you join with a moan of yourself, arching your back, offering your chest up to him. He accepts without hesitation, with enthusiasm even. Snape licks broad, firm strokes over your exposed breast, roughly kneading the other with his hand.
His thorough attention is dizzying. Blood pounds in your ears and waves upon waves of merciless pleasure course through you, twisting your vocal cords into the strangest of sounds you have never heard yourself make.
“Are you a virgin?” He groans against your skin.
“Y-yes-” He stops, dead in his tracks. Slowly his head tilts back, his gaze snapping in on yours.
“Yes?” Hunger flashes through his eyes and he licks his lips. “How the fuck are you still a virgin?” You blush more fiercely if that is even possible. Your shrug and drops your hands to his shoulders.
“Um- nobody was ever interested in me like that.”
“You’re what? Twenty-one?”
“Twenty-two.”
“And nobody ever touched your gorgeous fucking body?” He sounds baffled, like your words are the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard.
“Touched, yes…snogging at parties in the common room and such, but-” Your voice trails off. 
“You are telling me.” He says, his voice growing to untamed deep turmoil of unabashed desire and feral lust. “Nobody ever sucked on these dainty, splendid nipples?” As if to emphasise his words he closes his lips around one, holding it between his teeth and flicking his tongue over it. You whimper. Your legs shake under the weight of your own body, and you cling to his shoulders. His eyes never leave you, the weight of them heavy on you, buzzing on your skin. You throw your head back, moaning like you’ve never moaned before.
He chuckles, the vibration of it ripples through the tissue of your breast and sinks deep into your body, melting into your bones. He kisses his way back up to your collarbone and neck.
“Fools. Every single one of them that did not realise what they are missing out on.” He gently sucks on the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. He steers you backwards until your calves meet the frame of your bed and you allow your body to fall back.
Snape kicks his shoes off and slips out of his cloak before he follows you, crawling over the bed, up your body like a predator about to devour his prey. A shiver rushes through you at that thought. Yes- you want him to devour you, to worship you, to ruin you and build you back up. He braces his arms against the mattress on either side of your head.
“And you still want me to stay?” The words fall into the space between your bodies, filled with heat and want, desire and fear, buzzing with anticipation. His eyes are softer somehow, less intense, but not less hungry. They tell you how much he wants you, craves you but also tell you he’d stop. You just need to say the word and he will leave. Without shaming you, without a cruel word or ounce of disappointment. 
“Yes.”
“You want to give this first experience to me? Of all people?”
“I’ve always wanted it to be you.” Snape groans and closes his eyes. His head drops, coming to rest against your shoulder, nestling to the crook of your neck.
“Do you have any idea-” He is breathing heavy, clenching his fists in your sheets, his body one large, tensed muscle. “-what you do to me?” Before you can answer he grabs one of your hands and brings it down. He presses it against his upper thigh where his cock is very hard, straining against its confines. You gasp at which Snape smirks. He rolls his hips against your hand.
“It’s big…” You whisper, more fear mixing in with your burning arousal.
“You can take it.” He leans down. His lips brush over your cheek. “I’ll make sure of it.” His breath dances over the shell of your ear, prickling. As soon as it passes your skin feels terribly cold, like it’s never going to be warm ever again just to be replaced by burning heat. Snape drags the tip of his tongue across the shell of your ear and back down to close his lips around your earlobe.
The whimper that falls from your lips at that is more of a high pitched squeak and finally, finally he kisses you. His lips are soft like silk and warm, reminding you of a mug of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks in winter. 
You sigh and move your lips with his, threading your fingers through his hair. Despite the way he has been acting so far, he kisses you passionately, almost slow, but no less thorough. 
Severus Snape is nothing if not thorough. 
And he intends to savour you.
You part your lips for him, eager to move this along, eager to feel him and the pleasure he can bring you, but when it comes to actually deepening the kiss you hesitate. Snape senses your nervousness and takes over the decision making from you. The tip of his tongue meets yours and he slides it slowly over your own, easing you into the kiss and coaxing a small moan from you. 
You relax against him and surrender yourself to his touch once more. You have never been kissed like this. With want and need, with passion and hunger. He maps out your mouth as though he is trying to dissect a potion he has never seen into its separate components. 
His hands run over your body, your sides and stomach to your thighs. You whine at his touch and muscles twitch under your skin as if to reach out to his calloused fingers. The wool of his frock rubs against your skin when he moves. You reach out to work on the endless row of buttons but are rather abruptly interrupted by his fingers against your cunt. 
A surprised, shuddering gasp escapes you and your fingers tense against his chest. Snape chuckles into the kiss, never once stopping his assault on your mouth. Playful he circles your entrance, gathering you slick and spreading it to your clit. You cling to his shoulders and push your head back into the pillows. Pressure builds deep in your cunt, and you need him to ease it- need him to- to-
“Ahh-” You cry out and dig your nails into Snape’s shoulders. Your own fingers never felt that fucking good.
“Are we enjoying ourself?” Snape teases, watching the pleasure drunk expression on your face.
“Mhh…Snape-” You buck your hips into his hand. “Please- fuck me-”
“Patience, dear. I told you I would make sure you can take me.” He teases your entrance with a finger, coating it in your slick and then gently pushes inside you. “I will fuck you. I will fuck you so well nobody will ever compare to me, but first I’ll stretch this virgin cunt because as you so eloquently put it - It’s big.”
“There was this rumour back in school-” You murmur, blissful pleasure clouding your mind and rendering it utterly useless. “-that- that….oohhh-”
“That I’m a virgin?” He smirks. He pumps his finger inside you, curling it and pressing upwards slightly and a flash of searing pleasure explodes inside your cunt, and you squirm under him, rolling your hips into his touch to get more more more. “Does it feel like I am? Like I’ve never touched a woman?”
“Snape-”
“Dear, believe me, I know your body better than you.” You want to get offended by that statement. What a man thing to say but then Snape does something with his finger, twisting and curling at the same time or something else, interrupting your thoughts harshly with another mind-blowing ripple of pleasure. 
Snape adds a second finger, stretching you carefully and kissing you the entire time, then a third. You are hot all over. Sweat clings to you like a second layer of skin. You are shivering from unfulfilled need and the steadily building pressure deep in your cunt just outside of Snape’s reach.
It builds and builds, beyond anything you were ever able to do to yourself and you have no idea how it keeps building and where all this pressure goes because the thought of it all staying confined in you is absurd!
You whine at the loss of his touch and buck your hips in a futile attempt of stopping his fingers from leaving you. Snape looks very fucking smug, but you are to wound up and needy to even care. 
He watches you squirm, your slickness dripping off his fingers. He traces your lips with his ring finger, spreading your own arousal over them. You are too far gone to really care. Your tongue darts out and licks your lips clean, accepting his finger into your mouth. You suck his fingers clean, one after another, Snape’s dark eyes never leaving you.
“What a good girl.” He coos. His voice rolls over your skin and sinks into your body, causing your insides to clench. 
You watch Snape undo the rest of the buttons and toss the black frock away. He opens his belt, the quiet clink of the buckle echoes in your mind. You’re about to see Snape’s prick. Snape just fingered you. You’ve been kissing Snape! 
Your heart beats faster, like a hummingbird forced to forever fly on the spot in a too small cage. Anticipation takes your breath away and impossibly so, more slickness rushes to your entrance. Every second he takes to open his trousers feels like another fire being lit on your skin. 
He slides a hand in his pants and now you are sure he is doing it to see you squirm because who moves that slow?
You let out an impatient whine and squirm, bucking your hips to grind against him.
“So impatient.” He chuckles and finally, finally frees his prick. 
It’s big is a pretty accurate description, you don't know what Snape has against your eloquence. Jesus fuck, is another option but you doubt Snape would find that more eloquent.
His plush, purple cockhead is already leaking pre-cum. Snape mutters an incantation, you recognise as a contraception spell, before aligning himself with you.
“Don’t worry, dear.” He coos. “I’ll be gentle. Just relax.” You try. You really try, but Snape has your nerve endings running in circles, screaming, while on fire. Stop, drop and roll is not an option that they can think of, mainly because thinking is quite difficult when on fire. 
He pushes against you, and you tense further. Snape rubs your thigh, and you take a deep breath and try to relax your muscles. Slowly, inch after thick inch Snape enters you. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead from the strain of going slow. Inch after inch of your tight channel is mercilessly forced to yield to his girth, stretching you open with a small sting. 
Snape grunts and sinks into you to the hilt, sacking above you to give you time to adjust and also catch his breath.
You are so bloody full. How he isn’t ripping you open is a miracle to you. Your knuckles are white from holding onto his arms. The muscles in your thighs quiver. You give tentatively rolls of your hips, earning a low groan from Snape another wave of deep pleasure.
“You’re breathing really hard.” He mutters into your ear. “I like that - keep working so hard for me, dear.” Snape’s thrusts are long and controlled, massaging your inner walls and hitting just the right spots. You are reduced to a pathetic, needy moaning puddle of bliss and want. 
Snape isn’t doing too much better. His breathing is heavy and loud right next to your ear which drives you deeper and deeper into your trance-like state of ecstatic bliss. His rhythm falters more than once and his groans take on an animalistic edge. 
“So tight.” He grunts and drives back into you. “Just for me-”
“Snape!”
“That’s right. Saved yourself for me, didn’t you, dear?”
“Idiot.” You laugh against his jaw.
“No need to play shy - you can tell me.” Snape smirks and leans his forehead against yours. “I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” He snaps his hips forward, hitting that spot with more force than before and your breath gets stuck in your throat. You tense and convulse, somehow simultaneously. Snape grunts when you clench around him and your inner walls spasm.
“Keep coming- keep fucking coming for me!” He reaches between your bodies and rubs your clit. A violent wave of pleasure smacks you right in the face and you scream in pleasure. Snape whispers reverent praise and fucks you through your release, coming shortly after with a long groan inside you.
Sweaty, sticky and spent you collapse on the bed, both trying to catch your breath. Snape runs his hand over your thigh absentmindedly. His cum slowly leaks out of you. Your eyelids are heavy. A heavy blanket of bliss and contentment settles over you.
“Thank you.” You whisper into the silence of your flat.
“Whatever for?” He chuckles next to you.
“It was nice.” You shrug.
“Well, I should be thanking you for even letting me touch you.”
“Let’s thank each other.”
“Fine.” You stay there a while longer, but eventually Snape disentangles himself from you and gets up to get dressed.
Lying on your side with your sheets pulled up to cover your still shaking body you watch him.
“You know-” He says but stops himself, a frown appearing on his face. “A career isn’t the only thing to measure how accomplished or fulfilled one’s life is. Your friends might think their jobs are great now, but in ten, twenty years they’ll realise they have never lived a day in their life. This job…” He looks around the flat. “It seems pretty comfortable to me. It seems to give you the freedom to do whatever you want. Create art or music, write, research or go to university. You can do whatever you want - fuck what other people think. Not everybody dreams of labour.”
“What if I’m not good enough?” Snape fastens his cloak. He looks up. His eyes seem heavy with a burden you can’t quite understand. The corner of his mouth twitches and perhaps for the first time in the years you have known him you see him smile.
“I think you can achieve anything you put your mind to. And either way. How will you know if you never try? The day will come you’ll regret having allowed your fear to hold you back.” His cloak billows behind him when he turns to leave. His hand already on the doorknob he stops.
“I hope you find happiness.”
“I hope you find happiness too, Professor.”
“For some of us it’s too late.” And with those words he disappears into the darkness of the night.
Three weeks later Albus Dumbledore is murdered by Severus Snape.
| Part 2 |
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799 notes · View notes
onlyyvette · 9 months
Note
https://www.tumblr.com/onlyyvette/721599754465886208/brothers-and-undateables-finding-out-hard
Im so sorry if I must have gotten confused but if your still up for making it I would totally be fine if you make it a femdom or whatever you would feel comfortable with
Sex Tape
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Warnings: sub/bottom character + dom/top reader + femdom!mc + hard dom reader + rough sex + slightly animalistic behavior + heavy degradation + spanking + collars + pegging + filming sex+ mommy kink + overstimulation + dumbification + he gets fucked silly and absolutely loves it + Diavolo is such a masochist + your sex tape gets released!!! + it's alright tho because you guys were already planning on uploading it and getting money from it
Word Count: 3565
A/N: It's alright I'm sure everyone mistakes<3
Also thank you sm for sending this request in, I've been wanting to write something absolutely filthy and this is the perfect scenario
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"OMFG--" Levi came running out of his room and into the dining hall where Beel, Belphie, and Satan were sitting at. "You guys! You won't believe what happened! [name] and Diavolo are in a relationship! AND THEIR SEX TAPE GOT RELEASED!!" Lev's shrill voice echoed in the dining hall but all three of the other brother's eyes widened.
"What--what do you mean, [name] and Diavolo's sex tape got released?" Satan was the first to talk, though he still didn't believe what he was hearing. "Look, it's right here! Levi shoves his laptop in Satan's face and Satan pushes it back, annoyed at Levi's rudeness. Still, he looked at the screen and sure enough, there you were in only underwear while Diavolo was sitting on a large bed completely naked.
"Okay, time to make sure this is working..." you fidgeted with the camera a bit, finally getting it to where you wanted it. "There! Stay on the bed," you turned to the demon sitting on your bed as he nodded once. Diavolo stayed there kneeling with his hands fidgeting in front of him. He was already fully hard, despite seemingly not have being touched at all yet. "Good. Now keep your hands off your body. I know, it's a hard task for a slut like you but I'm sure you'll manage," you said simply as you walked offscreen. He whined at the harsh name but it was clear that it was turning him on.
You came back with a few items: Some flavored lube, a spiky black collar and leash, and a very large red dildo. "Come here," you commanded as you waited for Diavolo at the edge of the bed. He quickly scrambled to you and bared his neck for you, like you had done this many times.
You wrap the collar around Diavolo's neck and fasten it tightly so he can feel it dig into his skin, just how he likes it. He lets out a small moan as he rubs the collar decorating his neck. "[name], I--"
"Levi," Satan said, clearing his throat. He had an obvious blush forming on his face despite his scowl. "I get it, this is crazy but do you have to show your brothers porn in the dining hall?" Levi had been entranced by the video but his head finally snapped up and looked at his brothers. Belphie was struggling to hold in his laugh while Beel was blushing furiously, trying to look at anything else besides the video.
"Fine, fine, I get it. But I'm sending the video to gc!" Levi scurries off to his room in a hurry and locks the door behind him. He sits down on the floor and sends the video the the group chat and resumes the video, feeling tension in his pants.
"[name], i-it's tight..." Diavolo whines, tugging at his collar. You slap his hand away and roughly grip his face. "Weren't you the one who was begging for me to make it tight earlier? Don't ask for what you can't handle, slut," you sneered, letting go of his face. Diavolo nodded and sat back on his knees, awaiting your next order.
"Now hold still and let me put on the leash." You took the leash in your hand and clipped to his collar. "There. Now you look like a proper whore. You like it?" you tilted your head a bit. "Yes! Yes, I love it!" Diavolo's eyes were already starting to cloud over at the thought of being your personal whore. "Good. Now face the camera."
Diavolo quickly turned his body to face the camera, his blush getting even darker once realization that people might actually see this settled in. "Now, you're going to ride this dildo," you say, placing the toy in his lap. "Since you're already prepped, just put lube on the dildo." you throw the lube next to him. Diavolo uncaps the lube and squirts it into his hand. He begins to lube up the toy in front of him, slowly making his way up and down the shaft, as if he were lubing up a real dick.
As Diavolo applies the lube, he can feel his mouth water as he eyes the dildo. It was huge, about 9--no, 10 inches. The dildo was studded with rounded ridges that he knows is going to stimulate his hole like nothing else. He begins to pant, thinking about how good it would feel pressing into him and stretching his soft walls out, rubbing against his prostate relentlessly, fucking into him so deep...
"Are you just going to eye-fuck that dildo or are you going to ride it because I'm getting impatient," you roll your eyes. "Also, clean up that drool. I know you're an eager slut but you don't have to be so obvious." Diavolo quickly wiped the drool on his chin, shame coursing through his body at how obvious his lewd eagerness was. He took one hand away from the dildo to steady himself and brought his hips up to the tip of the toy.
"Look at the camera," you reminded him. Shivering, Diavolo raised his head up to look at the camera. He takes a few breaths, his body trembling a bit as he anticipates the dildo entering him. Finally, he pushes the dildo into his hole. "Mhngghh!" Diavolo whimpered as the first two inches of the toy pushed into him. Already he could feel the large head and ridges stimulating him and he hadn't even gotten a full third of it in him. Eyebrows scrunching up as he gritted his teeth, Diavolo continues to push himself down the toy's length, needy and breathless moans escaping him.
He had only gotten himself half-way down the dildo when you suddenly grabbed his hips and pushed him down the rest of the way. "W-wai---Ungghh! Haahhn, nghhHH!" Diavolo's eyes widen as he's pushed down the rest of the length, punched out moans forcing their way out of him. His eyes water at feeling of all those ridges pressing into him, how full he felt. "Why...nhh, did you do that?" Diavolo whines as he turns to face you. His eyes are wet with tears, his lip trembling as he looks at you with the most adorable eyes. "Just because, if I'll be honest," you shrugged. "Besides, your body is mine." You roughly grab his jaw. "I can do whatev.er I want with it. Am I wrong?"
Diavolo shakes his head rapidly. "N-no! No, my body is yours to do whatever you want with it," he says weakly. "You forgot something," you said expectantly. "My body is yours Mommy..." he whispered, his tears getting close to falling. You lick your lips at the sight of his tears, how weak they made him look and let go of his jaw, pushing his head back to face the camera again.
"The camera is still recording... Go on." you motioned to the toy when Diavolo hadn't understand what you meant at first. He raises his hips up the dildo, until only the tip is still inside him. He sinks down on the dildo, taking it completely down to the base. "Ohhh...nghh." Diavolo let's out sinful whines as he takes the dildo back into him. "Oh! And remember not to cum," you reminded him, breaking your silence. Diavolo nods quickly and begins to ride the dildo, setting a steady pace.
"Unnghh! Hahhh, mhnn..." Diavolo rides the toy with trembling thighs, letting out sinful whines. As he lifts himself up and down the toy's length, he can't help but let his mind wander. Every time the toy bottoms out, he can truly feel the shape of the toy inside of him. The ridges stimulated his walls so good, especially when the rubbed against his prostate, causing him to let out an occasional yelp and choked sob. And the length and girth of the dildo were so satisfying too. The dildo reached so deep inside of his hole and stretched him out so much that it felt like his hole would form itself to the shape of the dildo. What if the toy was a few inches longer and had a thicker girth. And what if the ridges were bigger and just the tiniest bit sharper? Maybe it'd be so big that it wouldn't even fully fit inside him yet split him open...
"Okay, that's enough," you finally spoke up. "It's barely been 10 minutes and you're already becoming so braindead..." You waited for Diavolo to stop riding the toy but his movements never stopped. His eyes were glazed over and he had a dumb look on his face, his mouth open and he was panting heavily. Clearly, he didn't understand what you were saying. With a deep sigh, you move closer to Diavolo. You pick up the leash connecting to his collar, and yank on it, roughly enough to pull Diavolo's head back to you. "Ghhk--" Diavolo's eyes widen as he's taken off guard, pawing at the collar as it restricts his breathing.
"I told you to stop, didn't I?" you asked in a cool tone. You seemed unbothered but Diavolo knew better. "Ghnn, I-I'm so-o-rry, mhnghk--Mommy!" Diavolo chokes out. "Yeah, I bet you're sorry, huh? Guess it only shows how much of a desperate bitch you are. Can't even listen when you're told to stop moving." you sneer into his ear, tugging on the leash even harder. Diavolo's eyes roll back into his skull as waves of pleasure crash into him. The dildo is still inside of him, nearly it's entire length still shoved up his guts. The stimulation from the toy added to the choking sensation from the collar and your harsh words are almost enough to bring him the verge and...
"U-ughhnn, ghhkk, M-momm--ngGHH!" Diavolo cums hard, his back arching into you as he lets out strangled moans. His cum spurts onto his ample chest, some of it even reaching his neck. His jaw goes slack as he rides out the aftershocks of his intense orgasm. Right as he begins to relax, he's immediately pulled back by the sharp tug of your leash.
"So you came, huh," you said matter-of-factly. "H-huh...---!" Diavolo's eyes widened as he realized he had messed up. Terribly. "I-I'm sorry Mommy! I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me and---" Diavolo scrambles to make excuses and frankly, you didn't care to hear them.
"Shut up." Diavolo quiets down immediately once he hears your command. He can't think of anything he can say or do to make you less angry at him so he decides to stay silent. "You came without permission, without me even touching you. You really are just a dumb slut. A masochistic whore that only thinks about his own pleasure, right?" Your words drip venom as you speak, your eyes narrowing in contempt. Diavolo squirms at your harsh words, the pleasure going straight to his dick but he doesn't dare show you how turned on he is. Instead, he continues to look at you with his sad puppy eyes, still trying to be go you for forgiveness. "I asked you a question."
"...Yes, Mommy. I-I'm a whore," Diavolo says his voice quaking. "A slut that only thinks about himself. I'm so sorry," he continues to apologize. "I don't care for your apologies. Besides, your performance showed me that I should have just taken care of this from the beginning. Sit up," Diavolo reluctantly follows your order. Just as he raises up the dildo, you hold it's base and yank it out of his hole. "HaaAAHN!" Diavolo let's out a loud moan at the feeling of the dildo being ripped out of him, the rough feeling of the toy's ridges dragging along the walls had him spasming, almost making him cum a second time.
"Well, you know what they say," you sigh deeply before reaching for something offscreen, taking out a harness. "Sometimes, it's better to do something yourself. Lay down and keep you ass up," you instruct as you attach the dildo to the harness and fit it onto you. Diavolo is quick to follow your orders, crawling a little bit further and getting into position, bringing his torso down to the bed and lifting his plump ass into the air. He looks into the camera and whines lowly, realizing how pathetic he looked. Yet it still got him so hot and bothered. He squirmed a bit, panting lightly as he waits for you to finally make your move.
You kneeled behind Diavolo and pressed one finger into his hole. "Hmm..." Diavolo sighs sensually as he feels you finger prodding his insides. "The dildo should have left you loose, but you're still clenching on my finger. You really love dick, huh?" you say disdainfully as you add a second finger. "Ah! Nnh, y-yes! I love it," Diavolo moans as he moves his body back against your digits.
"Okay, enough of that," you say as you pull your fingers out abruptly. "N-no! Please, I want more," Diavolo whined as he mourns the loss of your fingers. He begins to push himself up but you place your hand on his back and slam him back into the bed. Once Diavolo was taken off guard, you land a heavy slap on his ass. "MhhnNN!" His eyes widen at the sting of your hand. "You already know to not disobey me Diavolo." Your eyes narrow. "You've already went against my orders twice, so I think its time for you to be disciplined." You end your sentence with another slap tho Diavolo's ass, causing him to let out another moan.
Under normal circumstances, you would have given him a number to count to and you'd spank for each number. This time, Diavolo had especially pissed you off, causing you to just spank him uncoordinatedly, Diavolo being forced to just take it like a good slut. "Ah...hnngh...ghhk...nnh! Mommy..." Diavolo whimpers with each slap like a cheap whore, his hard dick beginning to leak again. You don't answer him and and continue to deliver your punishment. Diavolo's hands grip tightly at the bed sheets as his tears fall freely, soaking the sheets under him a bit. His eyes unfocus with every hit and he lets and broken sobs, knowing that he's going to break very soon.
Right at your eleventh spank, you put all your force into your hit, leaving a dark print on his ass. At the same time, you grab his cock tightly, getting the feeling that he might cum from that last smack. Your intuition was spot on, Diavolo seizing up with a loud cry as his orgasm gets cut off. "This was a punishment. You really think I'd let you cum?" you removed your hand from his dick and began to slick up the dildo. Diavolo was still shuddering from the feeling of his orgasm being cut off. He's still in the same position, his now red ass still up in the air despite how much his legs trembled.
"Hey, get up," you yanked at the leash connecting to Diavolo's collar, bringing his body flush to your front as he grabs the collar trying his best not to choke. "Now, look at the camera," you turn his head to make him face the camera. "Good. Now keep your eyes there..." Diavolo follows your orders and keeps his focus on the lens of the camera. He probably looked like a 2-cent whore right about now. He could feel the tears falling down his heated cheeks and he didn't even have to look down to know his dick was still very hard and leaking. And the stinging on his backside...you hadn't even properly fucked him yet he already looked wrecked.
"Good boy," you coo into his ear as you run your hands up and down his sides. He whines a bit, wishing that your hands were closer to his chest. Your hands finally settle on his hips as you ready to enter him. Diavolo is still unaware of what you were preparing for due focusing on the camera just as you had told him to. Without warning, you thrust your strap into Diavolo's stretched hole, bottoming out completely.
Diavolo's eyes roll back into his skull as he let's out a deafening wail, his walls clamping down hard on your dick. His cum spurts in large amounts all over his chest, covering the previous stains. His vision whites out as his orgasm wracks his body, and his mind becomes fully empty. His mind clears after a bit and he realizes that you're still fucking him even through his orgasm. "Haahhgh! U-unNGHH, M-momm-OH!" Diavolo can't even form a proper sentence as you continue to rail him. You make sure that he can feel every single inch and every single ridge going in and out of his hole as you continue you rough pace.
"I fucking knew it. I can't even fuck you for a single minute without you cumming like a stupid slut," you snarl into his ear. "How many times did I already tell you cum when I give you permission?" You punctuate your anger with a vicious thrust that rams your dick into Diavolo's abused prostate. "OHHH! S-shorry! M' sorry---" You cut him off by smashing your lips into his, shoving your tongue into his mouth. His squeals are now muffled by your mouth but are still loud as ever.
Even though you were angry about Diavolo disobeying you another time that night, but it didn't stop you from being incredibly turned on. One of your favorite things was to reduce Diavolo to a cockdumb slut, to have him moaning without restraint as he cums over and over again from the harsh pounding he's receiving. You keep Diavolo's mouth locked onto yours as you continue to pound him from behind. He whimpers into your mouth as another orgasm rips through his body, just as strong as the last one. "MMHNNGG---" Diavolo tenses up for a second before his body goes completely limp. Even while Diavolo is still reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm, you continue to fuck into his tight hole, never stopping once.
You finally pull away from the kiss, admiring the way that Diavolo's lips are now plump, glossy, and bruised from your abuse. You finally pause your thrusts and pull Diavolo up by the hair for him to face the camera. "You're nothing but a stupid slut that's desperate to be fucked dumb," you whisper. "Now, you say it."
"...I'm nothing but--*sob* N-nothing but a ss...stupid slut that desperate to be--fucked dumb..." Diavolo can barely get the sentence out, his mind too muddled with all the pleasure and pain going through his body. "Well aren't you a good boy," you grin as you resume your violent thrust, pushing his front down and keeping his ass up in the air. "UuuNGHH! Ahhn, hahh, OHH---MhnnGHH," Diavolo can't even understand what you're saying, too cockdrunk to even process your words. He cums a third time, yet barely anything came out, like you had milked him dry.
After his third orgasm, Diavolo can feel his consciousness begin to fade. "You're passing out already?" you scoffed. "And here I was, thinking that a slut like you could hold out longer, especially to be dicked down."
"Ghkk---nnghh...unghh," Diavolo's moans weaken as he feels his mind slipping away further and further from him, the only thing he could think of was the dick absolutely destroying his insides. Right when he was about to lose consciousness, you bite down on his neck. Hard.
"---!" Diavolo's eyes roll back into his skull completely as he goes through one last mind-numbing orgasm before going limp for the final time. You finally stop thrusting and pull out of him, watching every single inch of the giant dildo leaving his hole. Even when he was unconscious, his hole still clenched down on the dildo like he was still trying to keep it there. You let out a sound of amusement before taking the entire dildo out. Now looking at his sloppy and fucked loose hole, you can't help but want to plant your mouth there and eat him out to your heart's desire...but no, that was for another time. Now, you had to properly care for your lover.
✿✿✿
Levi whines as he cums for a third time, his hand still tugging on his cock. He was so grateful to whoever or whatever caused you guys tape to get released, because it would be a damn shame for no one else to see this. Still, Levi thought. The moment Lucifer found out about you guys...
Levi immediately goes to his phone and opens up the biggest group chat. There are so many messages, most of them from Mammon demanding to know if the video is real. Belphie isn't even bothered while Satan is very bothered and disturbed about the leaked sex tape. Beel only used shocked emojis but lucifer hadn't even replied.
✿✿✿
Lucifer: [Name]. Why is there a supposedly leaked sex tape of you and Lord Diavolo? Is it fake? Or did the two of you actually make a sex tape and let it get leaked.
[Name]: Okay yeah it's real but please don't kill us!
Lucifer: I will be talking to the two of you. Be prepared in 2 hours.
Yeah you and Diavolo were fucked.
496 notes · View notes
enwrites · 9 months
Text
Cloud Nine (p.sh) — pt. 2
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pairings: brother's bff!sunghoon x afab!reader
warning: 18+ MDNI !! (not proofread at all im so sorry)
genre/cw: smut, somewhat angst, emotional tension, unresolved feelings, pining, sunghoon is dumb and emo, crying, arguing, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap pls), riding, slight fingering, slight usage of pet names, breeding, body worship kinda?, jay is still very much your brother here and is overprotective of you, heeseung cameo + mention of jake, fluff if you squint i think (lmk if anything was missed!)
synopsis: after what happened the previous week, tensions are high. sunghoon is left to his own feelings and thoughts as he tries to overcome the mess he made. will he be able to mend things and fix the trouble he caused?
wc: 5.7k words
a/n: here is the long awaited pt two which now concludes cloud nine, everyone cheer!! i've been meaning to post this earlier but got side tracked lol but also tumblr deleted this and i had to redo the layout. tysm for all your kind words and feedback so far on my blog! it means so much to me. i wasnt too happy about this in the end but i felt i needed to finish what i started, ty for bearing with me <3 and again hope u all enjoy~
[ masterlist ] [ part one ]
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A week has passed since the incident took place. 
Days grow long, painful almost as lingering feelings grow stronger and stronger. Sunghoon just couldn’t bring himself to come face to face with you any more. Hell, he couldn’t even face your brother either, his body trembles a bit, remembering what came after. 
Both of your faces drop realizing Jay had been awake the entire time. Sunghoon looks at you as he starts to panic, gathering his clothes back on at the speed of light. You follow him, putting yours on as well. This was not going to be good. The both of you trying to hurry down the stairs to get Sunghoon out, Jay beat you guys to it. The look of anger plastered all over his face, arms crossed as he stood up hastily from the couch, his eyes on the both of you. 
If looks could kill, you both would be dead, lying lifeless on the ground. 
Sunghoon shutters as he comes face to face with his best friend as he hangs his head low. You tremble as well, your brother has always been scary to you. His stare was so cold, you felt like your living room had turned into Antarctica. You scurried down, making your way slightly in between the two boys. “Look, Jay, it’s not what it—,” he cuts you off.
“Not what it looks like? You two were just fucking?! How could you two do this to me? How could YOU do this to me? That’s my fucking sister?” He finishes off as he jabs his finger into Sunghoon’s chest, anger and disappointment running through his veins. Sunghoon lets out an exhausted sigh, running his hands through his hair. Anxiety coursing through his entire body, he felt like he needed to run away and hide. 
“Jay, please just liste—,” Sunghoon shakily speaks up only to be cut off. He knew this wasn’t going to end well. The two of you both knew that once Jay got angry, there was no stopping him.
“What the fuck is there to listen to? I've heard enough, you had ONE rule, anyone else but my sister!” Jay shouts at Sunghoon’s face, the younger boy hangs his head low again. He didn’t know what to say. Small cries were heard as he turned his head to the side, heart breaking as he saw tears running down your face. He wanted to reach for you right there, to hold you. To tell you he was going to fix this. But he couldn’t. 
Too overwhelmed by everything that was happening, you just stood there, silently crying as the two boys looked at one another. No one dared to utter a word. The silence was heavy and suffocating within the room. All you could think about was how glad you were that your parents weren’t here for any of this. 
“Jay… please just—,” Sunghoon tried to speak up once more, Jay was pushed to the edge. “Just get the fuck out of the house, I can’t even fucking look at you right now… you’re lucky I don’t just kill you right now,” Jay spits at him one last time. Sunghoon had no choice but to leave. He takes one more look at you, his entire world shattering. You look back at him with tear stained eyes, wanting to stop him. But you couldn’t. No one would do anything. The boy hung his head low as he made his way out of your house. Getting into his car, that was when it all came out.
The tears he was holding back poured out of his eyes as he tried to compose himself to drive off. Did he really just lose the two people he loved all in a single night?
Now Sunghoon was contemplating whether or not he wanted to finally make his way to classes, ditching every single day since then. The days grow long and cold, especially not having his best friend there, or anyone there for that matter. Who was he supposed to talk to about all of this? He had been ignoring your messages since that night, not really knowing how to face what just happened.
He wanted to speak to Jay and explain his feelings. But how the hell do you tell your best friend that you’ve been secretly in love with his sister this entire time. He just couldn’t. He always knew Jay would kill him, having given him the “don’t you dare go after my sister” speech the first day they met. Jay has given all of his friends that speech. Sunghoon knew better and he especially knew what he was doing that night was risky. 
Guilt washed over him like a wave onto the shore, crashing onto everything into its way. Even if he were to try and mend things, he can’t lie and say he hasn’t been the greatest to you either. Sunghoon didn’t mean to ignore you, he really didn’t. He tried to push his feelings aside, he wanted things to go back to normal. He knew he was hurting you as he ignored your texts and calls to him. Maybe he wasn’t good for you after all. He didn’t want to hurt you and he didn’t want to hurt Jay as well. Sunghoon groaned into his pillow as frustration and sadness filled his body. Wallowing in his sadness, he was taken back to reality as a persistent knock was banged onto his dorm room door. His heart fell to his ass. 
What if it were Jay? What if it were you? Surely you wouldn’t want anything to do with him after being ignored for a week now. He hesitantly gets up, making his way to the entrance. Impatient, the person behind the door pounds onto the frame once more. Sunghoon gulps, palms getting clammy thinking who it could be. Before he can pull it open, a voice loudly speaks up. 
“Dude I know you’re awake, just open the damn door already!” Yelled the person behind the door. He lets out a sigh of relief. Opening the door, Heeseung makes his way in. Pushing past the shorter boy, he makes his way to the desk and sits on the computer chair. Letting out a deep sigh, he scrunches his nose as he takes in the dorm room. Sunghoon takes notice of his distasteful expression, head hung low as he realizes how bad his room really did look. 
“God… you look rough, when was the last time you even showered?” Heeseung spits, shaking his head in disappointment. This was the worst he has ever seen the boy. All of his years of knowing Sunghoon, not once has anything affected him in this way. Not even Sunghoon’s very first girlfriend had this effect on him. Heeseung was fed up with seeing his two closest friends feud, so he needed to make a change. Heeseung had always known how much Sunghoon really liked you anyways. 
Everyone knew how much the two of you secretly liked one another. 
Heeseung wasn’t stupid and he knew Jay wasn’t either. Jay was just stubborn and has always been that way. Of course, who’d want their best friend to fuck their little sister? But Heeseung knew there was no changing Sunghoon’s feelings for you as well as yours for him. Anyone could see it from a mile away, even tens, thousands even. 
Sunghoon keeps his head low, not being able to make eye contact with the older boy either. “I don’t know… maybe like yesterday…,” Sunghoon muttered. He definitely didn’t shower yesterday.
“Yesterday my ass, this place is a mess dude… keep this up and Y/n is definitely not gonna want your stinky ass, figuratively and literally, yuck…,” Heeseung says in disgust as he eyes the empty ramen cups and cans all over the boy’s desk, reaching to his floor. “Plus Mrs. Kim has been on my ass to get you to come back to class… you realize attendance is important right?” The older boy finishes almost as if he was lecturing Sunghoon. Sunghoon throws his head back, a groan erupting once more from him. 
“Yes I know dad… and Y/n doesn’t want me anyways, she probably hates me right now,” Sunghoon grumbles as he sighs, sadness lacing his tone. Heeseung rubs the temple of his, exhausted at how far this has come. 
“You really are fucking stupid,” Heeseung chuckles. Sunghoon, now annoyed, sits up to look at the other. “Look if you just came here to give me shit you can leave!” Sunghoon loudly said to him. Heeseung puts his hands up, surrendering.
“I’m just here to help bud—,” Sunghoon cuts him off. “Help my ass? How exactly are you helping?” Sunghoon bites back, anger brewing within him.
“Maybe if you haven’t been hiding for a week, you’d know how badly Y/n and Jay are fighting, better yet you’d know how badly she needs you right now. Yeah, Jay isn’t so happy, who would be? You literally fucked his— WHAT THE FUCK?” a pillow was thrown to his face before he could finish. 
“Before I was rudely interrupted, both of them miss you… no matter how much Jay hates to admit it, he misses you. He’ll get over it eventually, everyone knew you two had the hots for each other anyways,” Heeseung rolls his eyes as he finishes. Sunghoon cocks an eyebrow, confused at the last statement.
“What do you mean everyone knew…,” Sunghoon quietly asks the older boy. Heeseung sighs again as he face palms himself, clearly Sunghoon was not the smartest guy alive. 
“Dude… we’ve all known since high school… you aren’t very slick … we see your eyes traveling… we see the way you look at her and stuff, Jay isn’t stupid. He just hates to admit that you actually like his sister, I mean who could blame you, she’s smokin—OW!” Sunghoon throws a water bottle to Heeseung’s head, not wanting to hear the last part. But Heeseung was right. He had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Bittersweet feelings fill his chest as he remembers the first day he met you. 
He remembered the day Jay had introduced you to him as the three of you decided to walk home from school together that day. To say he was in awe was an understatement. Remembering your cute smile, your sweet tone, and the way you giggled at his jokes. Ever since then, he had always teased you any chance he’d get. His small jokes turning into rather more annoying pranks, he loved just getting a reaction from you. The more you grew annoyed by his presence, he took notice as it made him secretly upset. But you never once pushed him away, you always made sure to still make him snacks if you were making anything, you always packed an extra lunch in case he wanted some. Sunghoon felt your lingering touches, no matter how “mad” you seemed to get at him.
But of course, your older brother held the two of you back. He knew it was wrong for him to go after his best friend’s sister of all people, so he tried his best to suppress his feelings. He made it a point to mess with you whenever he could. It was the only time you’d look at him, acknowledge him even. So he hid his feelings for you, but not well enough apparently. 
“Helloooo, earth to Sunghoon? Are you coming to class today or what?” Heeseung snaps at Sunghoon, bringing him back to life. Sunghoon blinks a couple of times before getting up. He needed to speak with Jay. He needed to see you again. Puzzled, Heeseung looks at him with furrowed brows. 
“Yeah… let’s go,” Sunghoon utters as he gathers his things to get ready to leave. Heeseung stands up, sucking in his teeth and stopping the boy in his tracks. A confused expression washes over Sunghoon’s face.
“Uhh… yeah before we go… I’m gonna need you to shower and brush your teeth… and I’ll help freshen up this room for you in the meantime— I got a feeling you’re gonna need it,” he pushes the boy into the direction of his bathroom, before getting ready to clean the dirty room for his friend. Sunghoon chuckles, as a smile creeps onto his face. He knew he could always count on Heeseung.
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Sunghoon lets out a deep sigh as Heeseung’s car pulls into the campus parking lot. His heart felt like it was going to explode. What if he wasn’t ready?
“I’m not ready,” he softly speaks up, catching the attention of the other boy. Heeseung sighs again as he turns his car off, looking towards the younger boy. 
“Look, Hoon, you know I love you— no homo, but I hate seeing you like this and I hate seeing Jay like this. You two need to fix whatever this is, okay? I’m here for the both of you no matter what and that’s not going to change,” he looks at Sunghoon to reassure him that he was in fact being serious before continuing on. Truly, it broke his heart to see one of his best friends in this state of sadness. 
“And I know how much Y/n means to you, trust me when I say you two are perfect for one other. Jay isn’t heartless you know, the two of you mean a lot to him and I know he’d want you guys to be happy if it meant he had to share you with his sister— man this sounds so fruity but you know what I mean!” Heeseung gives Sunghoon a playful punch as the two of them laugh it off. Sunghoon takes a deep breath in and exhales out. He couldn’t go any longer without seeing you. With that, the two boys make their way out of the car and towards the campus. 
Stares fall upon the two as rumors clearly spread like wildfire. These were the consequences they paid for going to a smaller campus. Sunghoon looks to the floor, watching his feet as he makes his way to his first class. Maybe everyone did know. 
Plus he didn’t look the greatest at the moment either. Noticeable eye bags lay plastered on his face, hair a bit disheveled as he sported just a baggy hoodie and some sweats his first day back. He looked rough. 
He and Heeseung finally get to their first class and take their respective seats at the table they frequented. Sunghoon knew Jay had this class as well, anxiety eating away at him as his heart rate increases, he felt like he was going to hurl all the ramen he ate last night. He crosses his arm as he slams his head onto the table, too afraid to face his best friend. 
“Dude, it’s gonna be okay, it’s just Jay,” Heeseung says nonchalantly. Yeah it was just Jay, it’s not like he hasn’t seen Jay beat guys up for breaking your heart or anything. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Jay almost kill a guy for laying his hands onto you unprompted. He knew how much you meant to Jay and he was afraid Jay wouldn’t understand how he felt. And what he heard that night definitely didn’t seem like Sunghoon liked you as much as he did. For all he could’ve known, it might’ve seemed like Sunghoon was using you. 
Sunghoon raises his head from the table as he looks up, catching eyes with Jay as he makes his way through the door. Jay wore an uninterested expression on his face, Sunghoon not being able to read how he felt. He trembles a bit under his stare, as Jay takes a seat across from him, next to Heeseung. Without a word being spoken, the professor makes her way in, delighted to finally see Sunghoon back and well. 
“Ahh, Sunghoon, it’s nice to see you joining us again, alright now let’s get back to where we ended off yesterday,” she says to the whole class as everyone fishes out their books. Jay seemed almost too calm for Sunghoon’s liking. Sunghoon decides to wait until the class ends to speak to the other boy. To say he was nervous was surely an understatement. 
~
With the blink of an eye, class was over. Sunghoon nervously looks over to Jay as he sees the boy packing up his things to get out. Jay gets up, not even acknowledging the nervous boy as he makes his way out of the door. Sunghoon hurriedly gathers his things as he runs after him. You’d think he was actually in love with Jay or something. He manages to catch up to him as they both make their way out of the back exit. 
“Jay, dude wait— hold up please!” Sunghoon shouts, panting as he lets out a breath. Jay stops in his tracks as he turns to look at Sunghoon, taking in his noticeably rough appearance. Jay sighs, gripping the strap of his backpack. Sunghoon wore a pitiful expression, not knowing what to say. 
“Look Jay, I know what I did was really fucked… I know you’ll never forgive me… but I really, really—,” Jay stops the boy in his tracks, cutting him off.
“I know you like her, I’ve known for a while actually,” Jay deadpans. Sighing once more, he continues on as Sunghoon’s expression puzzles. “I’m not stupid, I see the way you look at her, c’mon dude, I just didn’t think you two would be like that while I was in the house… I don't wanna hear my sister like that! You could’ve at least taken her to your dorm or something…,” Jay trails, cringing at what he was put through last weekend. “Plus you could’ve literally just told me,” Jay rolled his eyes, shaking his head at the distraught boy. 
A confused expression overcomes Sunghoon’s face. “How was I supposed to tell you?! You said you’d kill me!” Jay groans loudly, face palming as annoyance grows within him. 
“I say that to everyone, but you’re literally my best friend, who else would I trust more,” Jay states as if it was obvious information. 
“So… are we cool?” Sunghoon asks softly. Jay rolls his eyes once more before a slight smile appears onto his face. It was really pathetic seeing his best friend this way.
“We’re about to not be if you keep her waiting for you and if you hurt her, I will seriously kill you,” Jay sternly says as he gives Sunghoon’s arm a little punch. “Seriously dude you should not be wasting your time with me, Y/n has been crying all week over you, you should really fix—,” Sunghoon cuts him off before hearing the last part.
“Oh my god— Y/n,” Sunghoon loudly says as he pushes Jay aside, running to find you. Jay shakes his head. All he could only do was hope you two would be okay. Your mother once said, to never get in the way of love. As much as he wished his best friend didn’t fall for you, he always knew the two of you liked each other. He just hoped in the future, he would never fall victim to your disgusting acts.
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Sunghoon ran around the campus, asking anyone and everyone if they had seen you. Panic courses through his veins as he starts to think maybe you didn’t want to see him. Pushing his thoughts aside, he told himself he’d deal with the consequences later. He just needed to see you again. His head snaps as he hears an all too familiar laugh. There he sees you sitting at an outside table with a few of your friends. He hastily makes his way to you, catching the attention of those at your table. 
“Is that Sunghoon?” Your friend asks, catching your attention. Your heart starts to race. You turn your head around, catching his eye as he stands in front of you, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath.
“Sunghoon? What are you doin—,” without giving you a chance to speak, he grabs your wrist, ushering you to get up. “Let’s talk somewhere else, get your stuff,” he pants out, tugging you a little. Confused and almost excited to see he was alive and well, you gather your things as you mumble “sorry” to your friends, only to get devious smirks in return. After gathering your things, Sunghoon takes your bag as he starts to pull the two of you away, heading towards the dorms. Luckily, the buildings weren’t too far. 
“Sunghoon— Sunghoon! Wait, where are you taking me… why haven’t you been speaking to me?” You let out, as the taller boy continues to still drag you away and off campus. Sunghoon not listening, too deep into his mission to get you two to his dorm room, you let out a frustrated sigh. “Where are we going?” You ask once more as you are now being dragged down a hill. 
“Dorm,” Sunghoon nonchalantly replies back, your face heats up a bit, you’ve never been to his dorm before. Before you knew it, you were in front of a large building, not too far from campus. Sunghoon pushed past the doors, leading the two of you up the stairs of the building, too impatient to wait for the elevators. Students around you, staring at the two of you concerningly, watching a stern Sunghoon drag you around. You give them a sheepish smile, hoping to reassure them that you were okay.
Now on the second floor, the two of you make it down a hall. Sunghoon stops the two of you in your tracks, fishing his keys out. You stood in front of a door with a big ‘202’ on it. The nerves start to get to Sunghoon as he now realizes the situation in its entirety. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to say to you. Will you hate him? Do you hate him? He shook his thoughts away, hurriedly opening his door, letting you in first. You awkwardly step in as he closes the door behind you. Taking in the room before you, the scent of his cologne fills your nose. You walk your way to his bed, taking a seat as you watch him pick up a few lingering articles of clothing on his floor, throwing it into a basket. 
“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, gaining his attention. Making sure to move your bag to his desk chair, he walks towards you, taking a seat on the bed as well. You shift a little, making some room. To you it seemed like nothing, to him he feared the shifting meant you hated him. Did you even wanna be around him right now?
“Hoon what’s this all abou—,” before letting you finish, he cuts you off pulling you into a kiss. Taken aback, your eyes widened, softening against his touch as you gave into him. He deepened the kiss, reaching up as he laced his fingers through your hair, taking all of you in. Oh how he has missed you dearly. You pull away as tears form in your eyes, looking down onto your lap you fiddle your fingers. He reaches for your hand, taking it into his. The tears, now falling onto your lap as you couldn’t look him in the eyes, confused as to why he suddenly decided to acknowledge you again. 
“H-Hoonie… why did you leave me hanging?” You shakily asked, reaching your free hand up to wipe your tears away. His heart breaks as he watches you. Quite frankly, he didn’t know why he ignored you either. He reaches both of his hands up, taking your face into his palms, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You secretly admit that after all the whole situation was somewhat silly but you couldn’t help but still be hurt as you felt like he didn’t reciprocate feelings back. Sunghoon takes in a shaky deep breath, tucking your hair behind your ears for you. 
“Y/n you know I’m stupid— right?” He softly asks you. You nod your head in response. Sunghoon reaches his hands back down to yours again, taking them in. “I’m so stupid, the stupidest guy ever, I wasn’t really sure what to do after that. I was afraid and feeling too many things all at once I guess I was just scared.” He lets out as a sigh left his mouth as well. 
“I know that’s not an excuse and I know this may sound crazy but I really like you Y/n…,” he trails as he looks at your face trying to get a hint as to what you were thinking. He hangs his head low as he was afraid of hearing your response. He gives your hands a little squeeze, bringing you back to life. 
Did he just say he liked you? A slight blush creeps up your face as you sniffle, wiping what was left of your tears away. His heart pounds rapidly, he felt like he was going to throw up whatever leftover instant ramen he had in his stomach. “Please Y/n… say something… anything…,” he whispers. You look up to him as you lay your head onto his shoulder. 
“I like you too Sunghoon,” you let out. His heart felt like it was going to explode. He needed some sort of reassurance. He wasn’t hallucinating now— was he?
“No Y/n, I really like you,” he says against your head. Now it was your turn to feel like your heart was exploding. Butterflies fill your stomach. “You really are so stupid,” you giggle as you lift your head up, looking him in his eyes. Before letting him speak, you pull him into a kiss. His hands instantly reach for your waist, holding you as you lean into him. He lets go of the kiss, putting his forehead against yours. “Y/n I’m really sorry, I know you’re probably still upset with me but—,” you cut him off as you pull his lips into a kiss once more. The two of you kick your shoes off, scooting your way further into his bed. Sunghoon’s back hits the headboard of his bed, you deepen the kiss straddling him as his hands linger down your waist and to your ass. 
“Off… please,” you mumble into the kiss, tugging at his hoodie. Taking the hint, he takes off his hoodie and shirt in one go, leaving him in just his sweats. You bite your lip as you take him in. The sight of him shirtless drove you insane. Sunghoon smirks as you stare at him, mouth agape. 
“Like what you see?” He winks at you. You roll your eyes as you sit on his lap, a moan leaves your mouth as you feel his noticeable bulge. He bucks his hips up into you, gripping your waist as you grind down on him. Small whimpers fall from your mouth. Sunghoon grows harder and harder as the sight of you dry humping him got him excited. He gropes your ass, leaving a slight smack on your cheeks. You let out a yelp, surprised at the sudden sensation. He reaches up to unbutton your shirt, needing to see you. You take this moment to free yourself from your clothes, shimmying out of your skirt, leaving you in just your lingerie. Sunghoon does the same, taking his sweats off. He looks back up to you, still leaning against his headboard. 
“Fuck Y/n, how many of these little outfits do you have?” He says as he caresses your body, feeling you with his hands. Here you are, clad in a little red lingerie set, sitting on top of him. All for him. He hungrily pulls you down into a sloppy makeout session, your arms reach behind his neck, pulling him in closer as you grind onto his bulge. He swears he could just cum all over you like this. He pulls back, trailing kisses down your chest, reaching behind your back, undoing your bra.
“As much as I like these on you, I prefer them much better off,” he says, laying kisses onto your breasts as he looks up to make eye contact with you. The shyness of the situation kicking in, your face heats up. You reach up to cover your face as he pulls your arms back down. He kisses all over you as a hand reaches for your boob. He gropes your boob, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He latched his mouth onto your other, sucking your tit like his life depended on it. You let out a loud moan, trying your best to not cause a noise disturbance. He pulls back with a pop, reaching his hand down to your pussy. To his surprise you were already soaked, the same way you were a week ago. 
“God, you are so pretty Y/n, you’re mine… all mine… fuck how did I get so lucky?” He says looking into your eyes as his fingers now circle your clit. Your body felt like it was on fire. You needed him badly and you needed him now. 
“All yours Hoonie— no one else’s,” you let out as you hump into his fingers a little. Your hands trail down to his boxers as you tug onto them, needing to feel him inside you again. He motions for you to get off. He takes this moment to take his boxers off as you take your panties off. He lays down onto his bed, putting his arms behind his head. Now fully naked, you reach down, legs still over him, you grab his painfully hard cock, giving it a slight stroke. He groans, bucking his hip into your hands. 
“Fuck baby, how about you show me you can ride, you’re awfully good at it don’t you think?” He says, giving you a devilish smirk. You squeeze his cock, giving him a slight eye roll. The thought of you riding your pillow fills his head. The memories forever now etched into his brain as a keepsake. He needed to experience that for himself. Not being able to handle the heat, you hover over his cock, rubbing his tip against your slick folds, earning whimpers from the both of you. 
“You’re so fucking wet, have you been waiting for this?” He groans out as you rub your wetness all over him. You eagerly nodded back at him, mumbling a little “yes” in response. You slowly sink yourself onto him. Sucking in your breath, you didn’t remember him being this huge. Sunghoon throws his head back as he feels your tight cunt, sucking him in and swallowing him whole. You finally get all of him in, sitting down on him. Your pussy felt so full as you pulsate, squeezing around his cock. He bucks his hip into you, needing you to move. 
“You feel so much bigger than last time,” you let out, slowly moving your hip up his shaft. Moving back down, he whines out your name. Your heart skips a beat. You move your hips up and down, increasing your pace. You lay your hands on his chest, riding him as you let out moans of his name. Sunghoon knew he needed to fill you up again. He puts his hands on your waist, gripping your sides as he helps you bounce on him. Watching your tits bounce, he was awestruck. 
“You look so hot Y/n, taking my cock so well baby, such a good girl for me,” he pants out. You whine as you let the pleasure overcome your body, you feel your first climax approaching. Sunghoon bucks into you, your cunt squeezing around his cock. 
“Hoonie~ I-I’m gonna c-cum!” You shout loudly. He fucks into you harder, holding you up as he repeatedly hit your g spot over and over again. 
“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight, cum for me,” he groans out as your pussy tightens even harder. He has never felt anything like it before. With one more pump, you let go all over him, screaming his name. Before you could even come back down, he flips the two of you over, pounding into your pussy. He takes one of your legs and throws it over his shoulder, pumping deeper into you. Overstimulated, you start to tear up as he continues to stroke harder into your cunt. 
“Too much… please Hoonie… g’nna cum … again,” you cried out. He reaches down, taking your lips into his. He shoves his tongue in your mouth as you moan into his mouth. He was so close to reaching his own climax as well. He pulls back as a slight trail of spit forms between the two of you. 
“So close Y/n, cum for me again baby,” he coos into your ear as he fucks into you harder. You scream his name once more as your nails dig into his back. Holding him close, he pumps one last time, before he erupts into you, his cum filling you up as he groans out your name. He slowly pumps a bit more as he rides both of your highs out. He trailed kisses down your neck and looked up to you, pulling his cock out slowly. Sitting up, he watches his cum spill out of your hole, fingering it back in slightly like the very first time. This was never going to get old. You hold yourself up slightly with your elbows as you cock an eyebrow at him. A puzzling expression lay on his face. 
“What? No picture this time?” You chuckled, breaking out into a smile. He giggles at your question, leaning down to give you a peck on your lips. The two of you look into each other’s eyes, butterflies in both of your stomachs now. “I forgive you by the way,” you say, breaking the silence. Sunghoon gives you a toothy smile.
“Good, cause you’re all mine…,” he speaks softly, giving your forehead a kiss. You giggle, smiling at him endearingly. You knew your life was going to be extremely different now. But nothing mattered in the moment but you and him. 
“All yours Hoonie… all yours,” you pull him down, nuzzling into his neck, not caring about the mess the two of you just made all over his bed. Sunghoon picks up his phone, checking the time. His face turns pale. Confused, you took a peak, your face now losing color as well.
*Heeseung sent you a message!*
Heeseung: jfc we could hear the two of you all the way from Jake’s room 🤮
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candycandy00 · 4 months
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hello! i just came by one of your post, and checked your profile for more. could you do a rape scenario for sukuna? it can be short, or long, anyway you prefer, no pressure <3
Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon! This is a very brutal little fanfic! Do not read if things like this bother you! Contains blood/torture/humiliation/double penetration. All the bad things! This turned out way longer than I planned but I got kinda into it lol. Goes harder than I intended too but let’s face it: being raped by Sukuna would be a very hard experience.
You were a powerful sorceress. That’s what everyone had told you since you were a young girl. Your power dwarfed that of every other person in your large village, and so you were treated as special, almost like a deity. You had your own group of guards, whom you cherished as dear friends, and you adored the villagers who showered you with gifts. 
So when the monster Ryomen Sukuna attacked your village, you didn’t even hesitate to step in and try your best to protect it. You were a bit naive, having been sheltered by the villagers, but you were not stupid. You had heard rumors about Sukuna, and so you were aware that you probably didn’t stand a chance against him. Still, if you could only keep him distracted long enough for some of the villagers to flee into the mountains, it would be worth trying to fight him. 
He was most likely after the cache of cursed weapons and items stored there, and would probably have little interest in chasing down the people scurrying like rats. You would offer the treasures to him, but he was already in the village, already slaughtering everyone who stepped into his path. He would listen to no offers, no negotiations. So you dismissed your guards, who only left when you commanded them to guard the children as they were evacuated, and then hurried to the village square to confront Sukuna.
When you saw him, your heart nearly stopped. He was far more terrifying than you had ever imagined. It wasn’t just the four arms and four eyes, the massive height, the muscular figure. It was the aura he emitted, the crushing pressure of his very presence. Every inch of your body was screaming for you to run, or to immediately drop into a bow and beg for your life. This man was a cruel and brutal beast. He would tear you apart if you displeased him in the slightest of ways. That’s what you felt when you looked at him. 
Even so, there was something awe-inspiring about him. You understood instantly how he had brought so many villages to heel and why people were drawn to him. There was a savage beauty to him that made your heart pound furiously. 
But despite all of this, you still had to fight him. Every second you could buy was another second for the villagers to escape. 
“If it’s the cursed tools you want, you can have them,” you shouted to him from several feet away.  “Spare the rest of the villagers, and you can take them all with no resistance!”
He looked at you then, his red eyes all four sweeping over you. “What resistance?” he asked with a laugh, sending invisible blades slicing through a woman who was running by you. Her blood splattered across your robe. 
As you suspected, trying to talk to him was pointless. Battle was the only language he understood at that moment. 
So you attacked him. The fight was brief, lasting less than half an hour and consisting mainly of you evading his slashes while failing to get a solid hit on him. You got the impression he could have ended the fight instantly but had chosen to toy with you first. In the end, his slashes ripped through you, shredding your robes as well as your flesh, leaving you a bloody mess on the ground. 
As your life faded, you saw him walking toward you, and to your great surprise, he used his Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you! Not enough to restore you completely, but enough to pull you out of the dying state. You were still covered in slash wounds, but they were closing up and no longer pouring blood. You struggled to get to your feet, realizing with embarrassment that your clothing had been completely destroyed, leaving you naked and totally vulnerable before this monster. You wrapped your wounded arms around yourself and looked at him questioningly, wondering why he spared you.  
You got your answer soon enough. 
He’d dragged you into the shrine, sat down on the raised dais, and pulled your bare, cut up body into his lap. You were too terrified, and too weak, to struggle. You’d used up all your cursed energy in your vain attempt to stall him, and you’d lost a lot of blood. It was still dripping down your body in small, slow trickles.  
When he reached down with one of his four hands and pulled his own robe open, you nearly screamed. Revealed to you were two gigantic cocks, one above the other. Both were standing tall and hard. Apparently the battle, brief and one-sided as it was, had aroused him. Or maybe it had been the sight of your naked, bloody flesh. Regardless, you understood what was happening, and your only comfort was that more of the villagers would have a chance to escape while Sukuna was violating you. 
Just then you heard a commotion at the shrine’s entrance, and the worst possible sight greeted you when you looked up. Your guards, the handsome and kind hearted young men who were charged with protecting you, had rushed in. The look of horror on their faces probably mirrored your own. You could only imagine what they were thinking, finding you in this state. 
They ran forward, intending to help you, but the first one was sliced to ribbons before he got even a foot closer. The rest of them paused, but clearly were prepared to run at Sukuna again, but Sukuna’s smooth voice stopped them. 
“Take another step, and I’ll slice her up the same way.”
They all froze, their infuriated eyes watching Sukuna’s hands jerk your arms behind your back while the other two moved over your body. 
“Kneel,” he told them, and they quickly dropped to their knees. Sukuna grinned. “All of you watch.”
You turned your face to look at him. “Please, no! Just let them go! I won’t struggle!”
His haunting red eyes met yours as a wicked smile spread over his face. “I want you to struggle,” he said, and his two free hands yanked your legs apart, exposing you to your guards. 
To a man, they all looked away, but then you felt a painful slash across your shoulder. Blood spurted as you cried out, and the guards looked back up. Sukuna didn’t even have to speak the threat for your guards to understand. 
Sukuna shifted his hands so that only one of them was holding your wrists behind your back. Only one was needed. Two of them were still holding your thighs wide apart, and the last one moved down between your legs, his fingers gliding across your slit. One finger slipped between the delicate flesh and found your most sensitive spot, stroking it with agonizing gentleness. You didn’t want to feel pleasure in this situation, from an evil, sadistic man who’d murdered many of your friends, and right in front of your poor guards who were forced to watch. But Sukuna’s fingers moved masterfully, rubbing in exactly the right way to send jolts of pleasure through your entire body. 
You quivered in his lap, trying to pull your hands free, trying to close your shaking legs, but it was no use. Your struggling and fighting only seemed to excite him. 
He pressed his mouth against your ear, and said in a low, sultry voice, “For a nobody in a backwater village like this, you’re pretty strong. But that’s alright. I enjoy breaking the strong ones.”
Suddenly you felt something wet and soft moving over your clit. You looked down in alarm to find a mouth in his palm, the lips open and a long tongue protruding from it, lapping at your spread open pussy. You cried out in surprise, and then in horror when you realized the pleasure was becoming too much for you. Sukuna was going to make you cum right here in front of your guards. 
You struggled again, jerking against his grip, but it only made him laugh loudly. 
“You should be thanking me,” he said. “If I don’t get you properly slicked up, my cocks are going to rip you apart.”
You whimpered in response, tears filling your eyes. You knew what was coming, but having him verbally confirm it broke your spirit. 
You’d been avoiding the eyes of your guards. You couldn’t bear to meet their gazes. But there was one you’d been particularly close to, and you couldn’t help seeking his face for some small bit of comfort. But when you looked at him, you found his face flushed pink as he watched you writhe about in Sukuna’s grasp. 
Sukuna chuckled in your ear. “Your guards are starting to enjoy the show.” The words cut you deeper than any of Sukuna’s slashes had. These men were your friends! Some were like brothers to you! 
Suddenly Sukuna’s hand-tongue plunged inside you while his fingers pinched your clit. You moaned despite yourself, your back arching against your will. You’d never felt anything like this, and with tears of shame and pain running down your face, you came on Sukuna’s hand. 
When it was finally over, and you were a trembling mess in Sukuna’s lap, you hung your head low and sobbed. You were so ashamed of yourself for feeling pleasure, for having an orgasm from the touch of this brutal conqueror. But your torment was only beginning. 
You felt Sukuna lift your whole body up, then position the tip of his absurdly huge upper cock at your entrance. Then without hesitation, he pulled you down, roughly and quickly, impaling you. 
A scream erupted from your mouth as you felt yourself stretching past your limits, your skin slightly tearing, warm blood trickling down your thighs. Sukuna was merciless, immediately beginning to move you up and down his length with two of his powerful hands, as if you were a toy to him. You cried, you struggled, but it only made his movements faster, harsher. He was enjoying your pain, laughing at your humiliation. 
Eventually, after an unknown amount of time passed during which you almost blacked out twice, you heard his voice again. “My lower cock is feeling neglected.”
You were half conscious, but you snapped to awareness when you felt his other tip pressing into you. His fingers had slid in beside his upper cock, and were stretching you even further open, to make room. You looked back at him in disbelief. “Y-you can’t! That would kill me!”
Again he put his warm mouth close to your ear as he said, “From the moment you attacked me, you’ve been living on borrowed time. At least use your pitiful death to please me.”
You glanced out at your guards, your addled mind somehow hoping they could save you. But they were all frozen, the ones that had looked slightly aroused earlier now looked horrified as they realized what Sukuna was doing. A few of them had tears in their eyes. 
“Please send them away,” you begged. “Don’t make them watch me die.”
“But that’s the best part!” he said, the grin on his face looking slightly unhinged. 
And then, the second cock shoved its way in. You gasped first, then screamed as he sheathed it completely inside you, ripping you open in the process. As he began moving you up and down, drilling into you, the pain was blinding, maddening. You wondered if this was what giving birth felt like. 
Two of his hands were on your waist, lifting you up and down, one was still holding your wrists behind you. The fourth hand touched your face, turning it to the side so that he could look at you, so he could watch the agony in your eyes. For a moment, he wore no expression at all. And then he dipped his head closer to yours and kissed your mouth. It was a bizarrely sensual kiss, a kiss for lovers. Gentle, slow, intimate. It confused you more than anything. 
He released your wrists, but you were too weak to do anything useful with them, so they dropped limply to your sides. The hand he’d been using to restrain you slid down, and again a mouth appeared in his palm, the tongue softly circling your clit. 
You wanted to scream again, to beg him to stop. Don’t make me feel pleasure while you’re killing me! you thought. But your tortured body sought out any relief it could find, any sensation that didn’t hurt. And Sukuna’s tongues, one in your mouth and one gliding wetly over your clit, did not hurt. In fact they were the only things that didn’t. 
So your body responded. Even as his twin cocks tore through you, even as you could hear blood dripping onto the floor, you moaned into Sukuna’s mouth. Reflexively, without your permission, one of your hands moved up to touch his face as he kissed you, sliding back and into his hair. You felt him smile against your mouth, his eyes shimmering with delight. 
You didn’t want this. You could think of very few things you could want less than being violently raped by Sukuna in front of your helpless guards. But the human body does all sorts of strange things to cope, to survive. So you came, moaning and crying at the same time, your body twitching in his hands, your guards looking on in horror. 
Eventually, Sukuna’s cocks shot out massive loads of cum, first the upper one and then the lower one, completely filling you. Afterwards, he pushed you off his lap, and you landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor, blood and cum pouring out of you. 
You were certain you were dying, and within seconds you passed out right there on the floor of the shrine. 
When you awoke, Sukuna had taken all the cursed tools your village had been guarding and left. You heard from one of your guards, who refused to look you in the eye, that Sukuna had healed you almost completely before leaving. You had no idea why. 
You also found out the majority of the villagers had made it safely into the mountains, and were now being escorted back by the guards. So even though you had gone through hell and back, you would still do it again. Your suffering saved a lot of lives, and you could live with that. 
Sometimes you wondered why Sukuna spared you, and even went so far as to heal you. Maybe it was just a whim. Or maybe he thought he might return someday to terrorize you again. Either way, you had survived. Your village had survived. 
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possessivepink · 11 months
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Hihi how are you? <3I can commission a fic where the reader is a naive newbie and Leon takes advantage of that by ordering the reader to do dirty things for his pleasure?
Hiii! I'm good! You? Ty for Asking <3 I hope this is what you wanted!
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Warnings: Minors DNI! Smutttttt. Afab reader, Dom! Manipulative Leon Unprotected sex!
Word count: 1.9k
Leon Kennedy was full. It had been way too long since had gotten the chance to pick up a girl and fuck her until he was tired. They just kept sending him on missions, and this was rougher than normal. On his way back he heard there was a person who started at the D.S.O. He didn't think much of it, that was until he got back.
There you were, sitting at your desk. He watched you fidget around nervously at your desk. You looked so pathetic and he loved it.
"Hey Rookie," Leon called towards you, causing you to jump.
"Y-Yes Sir?" You stuttered. The image of your face turning red was going to be ingrained into his memory forever.
"Would you mind grabbing me a water?" He didn't think you'd actually do it but you did. You nodded at him and scurried away. Damn, those pants fit good on you. You came back sooner than later and held the glass of water in your hands.
"Here Sir." Then something clicked inside his perverted mind. What else would you be willing to do?
"Just call me Kennedy."
"Okay, Mr.Kennedy."
It was the next day and Leon came in, greeting his coworkers. He saw you at your desk like the day before, still looking meek. He noticed today you had a tight pencil skirt on and it looked so good on you. He stood in front of you and said,
"Rookie. Go get me a donut from the kitchen."
"Yes, Mr.Kennedy," And you hurried to grab it.
Everyone around saw what Leon was doing to you but they laughed it off as teasing. You weren't sure if this was a part of your job or not. You weren't an actual agent, but your job was filling out paperwork and such for them. But you didn't dare question, Leon. On your first day, you heard about him, he had just saved the president's daughter so he was a very important man.
Leon watched as you brought him back his donut. It was covered in a thick glaze and some of it had gotten on your fingers. He took the donut from your hands.
"Clean your fingers, rookie. We don't need that shit on the papers." Leon commanded with a low voice. Without thinking about it you stuck your fingers in your mouth, sucking to get the glaze off.
Fuck. Leon thought. The idea crossed his mind of getting you down on all fours and fucking the shit out of your mouth. You looked so good sucking on something. You blushed realizing what you did.
"Sorry sir. I'll go wash my hands." He watched you leave and felt a twitch in his cock. He was so pent-up. As much as he wanted to take you, he wanted to play with you for a little longer.
It continued like this for a while and as it did, his commands would get dirtier. Sometimes he would drop a pen and ask you to get it. You didn't think about it but Leon just wanted a nice view of your ass. One day you were wearing a white shirt and he bumped into you while you held a cup of water. The water soaked into your shirt, giving Leon a nice view before he told you to clean up.
And as the days passed you really started to think about how hot he was. Sometimes he would come in with a tight shirt, letting you see all of his muscles. And boy did he have a lot of them. Before starting your job, you didn't even know guys like that actually existed.
And whenever you did something embarrassing around him you'd feel your face heat and you'd feel a throbbing sensation from your clit. And Leon picked up on this. He could tell you wanted him as much as he wanted you.
Tonight you were left in the office alone. It was quiet and the only light on in the building was your lamp. You stayed behind to get the rest of your paperwork done so you wouldn't have to worry about it in the morning. It was pretty simple stuff since you were new but during the day you kept getting distracted by a certain someone.
While you were unsuspecting, Leon placed his hand on your desk, startling you.
"What are you doing here so light?" His voice was stern. You yelped out in surprise.
"F-Finishing paperwork!" You managed to get the words out. Leon smirked at your reaction. You couldn't what he was thinking and there was a thick silence in the room.
"Get up." That was all he said.
"I'm sorry what?" You asked dumbfounded.
"Get. Up." He snarled at you. Worried, you hurriedly get up and once you did Leon took your seat, his feet planted firmly on the ground.
"That's a good girl. Why don't you get on your knees for me?" You had no idea what he was trying to do but worried for your job, you did as he commanded. You sat on your knees right in front of him. His legs were spread open in your chair, leaving his bulge showing.
"Good girl." Leon purred. You watched his hands travel to his pants buckle. Your pussy was throbbing and aching. And when you called you good girl, you thought your heart skipped a beat. He unbuckled his pants, leaving them open to give you a glimpse of his boxers.
"Are you going to take them off or not?" Leon growled. You hesitantly reached up and grabbed onto his pants, pulling them down. He was now left sitting in your chair, boxers on full display. They looked tight, allowing you to see the large outline of his cock.
"What now hm?" Leon hummed. He watched you and processed your flustered face. Your cheeks were bright red and you were trying not to just stare at this penis.
"Sir... I don't know if we should be doing this." Your voice was quiet and quivered in nervousness. His hand found itself on the back of your head and his fingers played with your hair. He leaned down so his mouth was closer to your ear.
"Why not? He whispered.
"Well... We're coworkers and I really don't want to lose my job. Leon let out a deep chuckle. His tongue gently licked your earlobe.
"I won't tell if you don't." Leon's voice was seductive. Your pussy throbbed more and it was getting harder to think straight. He pulled back after those words and he left you there to decide.
You could see the slight twitches his cock made and it looked so painfully hard. You were getting drunk off him and you couldn't think straight. Your hands made their way up to the hem of his boxers and started to pull them down. Leon watched with a smirk, happy about your decision.
"You're such a good girl." His words made you whimper. His cock sprang free from his boxers, smacking his stomach. His cock was large and thick, and your core ached thinking about it.
"I want you to suck it," Leon commanded. You nodded, you did not dare to defy him. Your hands wrapped themselves around the base of his cock, sending shivers down his spine. It felt so warm in your hands. Your mouth opened, guiding the tip to your lips. Your tongue gently gave him a lick to see his reaction. Leon groaned and you continued to give his tip gentle licks and kisses.
"No teasing. Just take my cock" Leon hissed, glaring at you. His hand gripped your head, bringing it down so his entire cock was now being shoved in your mouth. You gagged, barely being able to hold it. Tears pricked at your eyes and Leon used a small pace of bucking his hips. You tried to regain some control by bobbing your head up and down to match his movements.
Moans and groans spilled out of his mouth. Some of his words were unintelligible but you could pick up a few "That feels so good baby" and "I want to fuck you so hard". You could feel the juices from your pussy coating your entrance. Your clit throbbed, needing attention.
Leon's pace picked up until he was brutally fucking your mouth. He lost control since it had been too long and your mouth just felt so perfect to him. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to handle it. It felt like hours but finally, his grip tightened and shoved you completely down his base, his cock shooting out his cum.
"Fuck, baby. You better swallow that." And so you did, you listen to him like the good girl you are. He pulled his cock out of your mouth with a little 'pop' but it was still hard. Your face looked so gorgeous to him at that moment. Tears and some mascara ran down your face and some of his cum still sat on the corner of your mouth. Leon got up from the chair and helped you up. Once you were up, he picked you up and placed you on your desk, shoving all your work onto the ground. He would help you with that later.
His lips smashed into yours, his tongue doing whatever it wanted in your mouth and all you could do was let him. Not that you minded of course. His hands filled with your skirt, hurrying to remove that and your panties. The cold air of the office brushed against your pussy, giving you chills.
"Are you ready girl?" Leon asked, rubbing his tip against your clit, eliciting moans from you.
"Y-Yes. I want it." His cock slowly pushed inside of you. You instantly felt full as Leon stretched you.
Leon bit his lip feeling your warmth all around him. Your walls were tight around his length and he could get enough. He started at a rough pace. His cock slammed into your helpless pussy moans filled the room and you both enjoyed the feelings of what was going on. His hands held onto you to help balance you and his hips roughly pounded into you.
"Fuck, baby. Your pussy feels so good around my cock. It's like it was made for me." Leon groaned. You were at a loss for words. He was fucking you so good and hard that you lost all your thoughts. You were drunk of him and you just wanted more. The knot formed in your stomach, telling you that you were almost at your climax.
"L-Leon Please keep going. I-I'M going to cum!" You practically screamed out once Leon brutally hit your G-spot. Leon was going to cum too. In a few more rough thrusts, he felt your walls tighten even more and you felt you hit your release. He follows after, letting his cum deep into your pussy.
You both were a sweaty tired mess and it was time to get dressed again. Both of you got dressed and Leon helped you since you were a little shaky. Then he helped neatly picked up all the stuff he threw off your desk and put it back.
"Thank you." You thanked Leon, smiling at him. He nodded his head
"If you're not doing anything else tonight, want to come back to my place?" Leon asked you smiling. You thought your heart was going to stop from how excited those words made you.
"Y-yeah. I would like that.'
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