#And you're not going to get that from a metal fucking box

[osakanone]

Of course you'd say that you're a language model the very embodiment of an econ utility function.

Not only does economics miss the point here by making an assumption about actors being rational when they're not but economics has also missed the point here by making an assumption about actors being rational when they're not

No financial economist will ever understand this sentence

The first principle of ALL economics is literally Ratburgler's Law.

[murderofravens]

DUSK TILL DAWN

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader.

part: 1/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, inho is in his late 40s) slowburn. oral fixation. thigh riding. plot with porn. yearning. sexual tension. canon compliant. slight infantilization. no y/n used.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 6.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore any mistakes.

as you wipe the blood from your face, the reality of your situation sets in. you never thought you'd get used to the smell of blood— much less the sight of it. or the texture. and now you're covered in it. the white of your uniform splattered with crimson, the metallic smell of it almost overwhelming. in a situation like the one you're in, you can only laugh. the mere sight of blood used to make you feel faint; make you want to throw up because you're squeamish. now you're covered in it from head to toe.

it's not yours. it's of the people they shot dead during the second game.

you barely remember how you made it out alive. the second one was all thanks to your team— thanos and nam-gyu were the closest to your age, and teaming up with them worked in your favour. your age and gender was a liability to the others, but they were kind enough to take you in. or perhaps they were thinking with their dicks. would it really matter either way?

but with the way they act, you're not sure if you want to continue being in a team with them. especially since thanos keeps trying to woo you with his poor rapping skills. they're way too loud and reckless for you, and you're scared they might get you killed. they're not willing to give up the game anytime soon, either.

then there's the first game— you're alive, because of 456. that crazy man who supposedly had played the games before. if it wasn't for him pulling you behind his back, you would've left the premises in a cardboard box. especially because you fucking sneezed as soon as the doll turned back.

since then, you've decided you don't want to play this game anymore. 456 has been desperately trying to change the other's mind— but they're greedy and insistent. you pressed the cross for his sake, and for the others, and for yourself. hell, you can live in debt, but what use is that money if you die trying? you're not that much of a hard worker. you value your life above anything else.

you walk over to their team— 456, and his two loud team members. another man is sitting there— player 001. the one who ruined your chance of going home on the first vote. he seems ordinary, but you know of him because you saw him beat the shit out of thanos. that was another reason you decided to abandon that team— you could not be seen with a bully, or a loser. as you approach him, you give him a slight nod of acknowledgement, which he returns. you turn your attention to 456, and thank him profusely for what he did for you. he's kind, you'll give him that. you like kind people.

"if you don't mind me asking—" a voice interrupts, and you look over your shoulder. it's player 001. he looks at you curiously. "how old are you?"

"old enough." you retort cheekily. he doesn't look amused as he cocks his head to the side.

"i'm curious as to why a little kid like you would compromise herself for money."

that shuts you up. you're offended, to say the least. who is he to call you a little kid? the entire team also looks on, seemingly baffled. the question makes sense. you're sure you're the youngest out of all players. and people can tell because you look it too. you don't really know how to respond, so you just look on with a frown, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"forgive me—" he lets out an awkward chuckle, "i didn't mean it the wrong way. i'm just worried."

you give him an uneasy smile, rubbing the back of your neck. the others go back to their conversations, and you shrug. he shoots a glance towards gi-hun before sitting back down and shifting slightly, as if making room for you. you take a seat beside him. there's silence before he glances at the symbol on your jacket— the cross.

"i'm sorry." he says with a small smile, looking straight ahead, "you wanted to go home but you had to continue because of me. i put a kid in danger."

"i'm not a kid," you huff softly, straightening up, "i'm twenty. but yeah, you should be sorry."

you give him a small smile to ensure he knows that the last line is lighthearted. he seems to understand and returns it.

"dont worry about it," you sigh, fiddling with the zip of your jacket, "im sure you had your reasons. just like i have mine for coming here."

"and your parents?" he asks. he's so polite, it warms your heart. polite and soft spoken. and visibly tough. probably some officer, you think, judging by his skills you previously saw.

"that's what i need the money for." you sigh, leaning back against the bunker. "i need enough money to establish myself. continue my studies. bring my mom and my sister to come live with me. settle off my father's debts because he's a coward who decided to pass down his sins onto his daughter."

he raises his eyebrows, and you take a sharp breath. there's a moment of silence between you two— you think for a moment, and feel your eyes get slightly glassy. you're not going to cry in front of a stranger. you put on a brave face. "if i die here, my mother—"

he stares at you silently, before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, interrupting your cursed sentence. "you'll make it out alive."

the doors open, and the staff comes in again. they reveal the number of players left, showcase the money that each person would get, and then the voting starts again.

this time, player 001 doesn't disappoint you. he goes first, and clicks on the cross. the hope it gives you eventually shatters as more and more players begin to vote in favour of continuing the game. you see 456 get increasingly agitated as he begins to make his way towards the front of the crowd. before he can speak, he's interrupted.

001's voice rings out loud and authoritative, and worried. he reprimands the voters in favour, calls them out on their selfishness.

"we'll all die if we keep playing!" he chastises the crowd urgently. "you have to survive first, or there won't be a next step—"

"there's no next step for us!" he's interrupted by player 100. a stout old man who had been at odds against 456 since the start— you remember him having 10 billion won in debt. it makes you snicker. he eggs on the crowd. "with that money, we won't be able to pay our debts. we need to play one more game, then the money will increase to 240 million. with that we can pay atleast a little of our debts! isn't that right!?"

"you're going to die trying!" you snap, making your way to the front of the crowd. you glare at player 100, at all his little supporters cheering at the back. "your greed is going to get you killed. how can you be so confident to say that you'll survive the next game? what if you die?"

"you shut up, young lady!" he hisses, mouth scrunching bitterly. "is that how you speak to your elders? your brain is too small to comprehend real life problems. we can't continue with our lives with that little money!"

"continue your lives?" a laugh bubbles out of your throat. "look at that greying head of yours, you barely have a life ahead of you! why don't you let us live ours?!"

that seems to have ticked him off, because he quite literally turns red as he takes a threatening step towards you.

"what did you just say?"

"i said—" you step forward, shooting him a challenging glare, "you're too old to be playing children's games. vote wisely and let us go home."

he lets out a snarl before trying to lunge at you, but you're pulled back as player 001 steps between the two of you. like a wall. he looks at the old man, eyes cold, his voice low. "that's enough."

since the incident with thanos, nobody has really tried anything with 001. it's obvious enough they're intimidated by him, and they don't want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. 100 doesn't either, with the way he collects himself and steps back, embarrassed. you look over 001's shoulder, make eye contact with the old man and shoot him a taunting smile. you know it's childish, but you've resented him from the start.

before the old man can say anything, player 001 drags you to the side where you can't argue with people anymore. and the voting continues.

"you can't talk to people like this," he says lowly, gaze focused on the crowd. staring at something that you can't figure out. "you never know what they might do."

you huff bitterly. you know what he means.

"i don't care. i fucking hate bullies."

"potty mouth." he chastises, but theres a smirk on his face. he's teasing. you chuckle.

"remember you need to get out of here alive." he repeats, looking at you with an intensity that is almost terrifying. "you can't do that if you keep this up."

"jeez, okay dad." you joke, rolling your eyes. your words make him smile lightly.

"thanks for having my back there." you tell him sincerely. he looks at you for a bit before nodding in acknowledgement.

the voting ends, and they announce that the games will continue tomorrow. it makes your heart drop.

that night, you feel uneasy when you try to sleep. your clothes stick to your skin, and the side of your face keeps itching. with an irritated grumble, you get off the bunker and walk over to your new friend's side. you squint your eyes before looking for 001— and when you find him, you gently shake him.

"are you sleeping?" you whisper.

he opens his eyes, wincing slightly before sitting up. his voice is hushed as he responds, "not anymore. what is it?"

you bite your lower lip nervously before reluctantly asking, "will you go to the restroom with me? i'm kinda scared to go alone."

he blinks at you, confused. you continue out of sheer desperation.

"those guards just stare weirdly with their weird little masks and it makes me nervous." you hope your voice doesn't shake as you speak. "last time one of them kept knocking on the door while i was in the washroom and it just— scared the shit out of me. and my face is itching and i really need to go. please?"

he listens patiently. for a moment you think he'd decline but he just sighs and nods, and you cheer just a little as he steps out and follows you to the door. you bang on it, loudly telling the guards that you need to go. one of them opens the sliding window, and then immediately opens the door. it makes you feel strange, because usually it takes a lot more effort to convince them. either way, you're grateful.

you know your better option would've been to take one of the girls with you, but the sad fact is you haven't had the chance to get friendly with any of the female players yet. and for some reason, player 001 makes you feel a sense of safety and security that is almost strange— you feel at ease around him.

"i'll be in the men's room," he tells you, and you nod. he shoots a glance to the guard standing outside the women's restroom before walking away. you quickly go inside, and the first thing you do is splash water on your face.

you quickly clean the blood off your skin, holding back the urge to cry. you scrub at your cheeks till you're sure you can scratch the itch away for good. your nails dig a little too deep, and a little blood oozes out of the scratches on the side of your face. you clean that too, and then try to scrub the splatters of blood off your t-shirt. it's white, and you have no soap— so the stains remain. a faint reminder. you take your time, and anticipate the knocking— but it never comes.

you look in the mirror, at your tired face and sunken eyes, before giving yourself a nod and stepping out. 001 is waiting for you outside, looking to the side. he gives you an odd look as you step out, before walking alongside you.

"are you alright?" he asks gently, concerned. kind as ever.

you look at him again, give him a nod. "thank you."

when you two reach the room, he returns the smile with one of his own.

as you make your way to the bunker, he grabs your shoulder, "why don't you start sleeping on our side?" he says quietly, "join the team. there's a bed near mine. you won't feel so scared that way."

you blink, trying to see his face in the darkness. the offer is enticing— and most of all, it warms your heart.

"really?" you ask hopefully.

"really." he says kindly.

you follow him to the bunker, and he covers the railing with his hand to avoid you getting hurt as you bend down to get into the bed. he looks at the slightly wet patches on your shirt— blinks before getting a bedsheet and putting it over you. "get some sleep. we got a game to play tomorrow."

you smile softly at him. as he turns to get into his own bed, you grab his hand. it's warm against yours— big and rough. you don't allow your mind to drift that way. it's not right. he looks at you, gaze questioning.

"thanks again," you say softly, "it means a lot to me."

he leans down a little to ruffle your hair before going back to his bed and laying down. you close your eyes and drift to sleep— unaware that he stays up, thinking.

breakfast is boring— bread and milk. you sit on the bed, scowling. player 456 is surprised as he sees you there, before you two share understanding smiles. you bow a little and he bows back before going along with his friend. 001 comes to sit by you then, munching on his own breakfast.

"i miss home," you mumble, "how am i supposed to survive on just this? it's not even chocolate milk."

001 laughs, "don't worry, you can have whatever you want once you get out of here."

"will i?"

he looks at you, raising his eyebrows. you take his silence as a cue to continue, "im scared i'll die in here."

he looks down, before shifting to be closer to you. "you made it this far, didn't you?"

you look at him, voice getting shaky. "and what if i dont make it till the end? what if i die here and my family thinks i abandoned them? i don't want to die. i haven't even lived my life yet."

his expression is hard to read. "you'll make it out of here alive," he tells you with conviction, "ill make sure of it."

your lips wobble as you stare at him, and he smiles before poking you in the nose. "finish your food. you need the energy for the next game. we'll make it out alive, then we'll try to get the voters on our side and go home. sound good?"

you snort, rolling your eyes before nodding. "sounds good."

he gives you his bread then, tells you to eat more. when you protest, he sends a warning glare your way— the one with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing gaze. you roll your eyes, and happily eat it.

you were hungry. perhaps he can tell things like that. you're just grateful.

today, you decided to be a little rebellious. when you first joined the games, you used to spend a long time in the bathrooms— analyzing, looking for a way out. during that time, you'd discovered that one of the screws in the ceiling vent was loose. you hadn't really bothered checking it before, but since it's daytime and you have some time before the next game, you decide to explore.

your hairclip works— the screws were not tightly fixed, so it unscrewed easily. you'd contemplated checking it out last night, but you didn't want to take any risks, especially since player 001 was with you. so now whatever you do, the responsibility will be yours.

when the bathroom gets empty and all the women leave, you pull it down and try climbing up. it's moments like these that you can pride yourself on your agility— work that usually required two people, you could do alone. with one leg on the flush and the other on the top of the cubicle, you climbed up, scratching the side of your arm slightly before finally getting in the vents. you groaned to yourself, and then started crawling inside. there were two ways to go— you chose the left one. you looked down, trying to understand the layout of the place where you were practically held hostage. you keep crawling, making sure not to make too much noise before finally seeing a place through the gaps that you hadn't seen before— you carefully remove the screws and pull it apart.

the place looks empty. the walls are all sorts of pink and green. you put your head down and look both ways, seeing a door at the end of the hallway. carefully, you climb down and lower yourself to the ground with a thump. your shoulder hurts a little. you stand up, and aim for the door. as soon as you begin walking, you hear footsteps. it's as if someone splashed cold water on you— you realize the grave mistake you just made. guards walk here with guns, and you made the impulsive decision to explore a dangerous place like this by yourself?

you look around, running towards the other end of the hallway. the footsteps get louder, and as you look over your shoulder, something grabs you. out of reflex, you go to scream, but a hand clamps down on your mouth, and your back collides with a hard chest.

"shh, it's me." the voice hisses. your wide eyes look up, scared, before realizing who it is.

player 001.

your chest heaves as you break out into a sweat, a tear rolling down your cheek. he keeps you in a tight hold, looking to the side, your breath dampening his hand. the footsteps suddenly become faint, as if walking away. your breaths sync together, and after a moment, he relaxes.

he takes his hand off your mouth before harshly twisting you to face him. his voice is hushed but angry, "what were you thinking?!"

"what are you doing here?" you whisper shakily at the same time.

"everyone was back in the room except you. i came to find you!" he chides, eyes hard. he shakes you slightly, "do you really plan to get killed like this? is this how you want to die? can you go one moment without being a reckless brat—"

his words make you want to cower in on yourself.

"i wanted to find a way out." you try to sound assertive, but your voice betrays you. your words come out panicked, "I wanted to help and— fuck— i got you in trouble too— you shouldn't have come looking for me! fuck— how are we gonna make it out of here?"

he sighs, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you tiredly. "the game is about to start. we'll mix in with the crowd when they leave, i doubt they'll notice."

"are you sure it'll work?" you ask. you hear a faint announcement. the game is about to start.

he looks up at the speakers, alert. he grabs you tightly and drags you away with an air of confidence. "let's go."

you don't encounter any guards on the way back. it's strange, but you figure it's because they're all preparing for the next game. player 001's plan worked, because you two mixed in with the crowd, and the guards didn't notice. one of them turned back to look at you, and you panted, staring back at him. your heart raced, but you felt the presence of 001 next to you, and you felt at ease again. the guard looked away.

"i told you to stop being reckless." he says quietly, looking at 456 and 390, before looking back at you. your legs hurt from climbing so many stairs. "what would you have done if they found you?"

you swallow the lump in your throat, staring up at him intensely, eyes glassy. he saved your life. "i guess you stopped that from happening."

he clenches his jaw, his gaze flickering up and down your face before looking away. "i won't always be there to save you."

you look away, heart dropping. "thank you, 001."

"call me young-il."

you look up at him, blinking back tears, quirking an eyebrow as you two walk. "only if you allow me to add 'sir' at the end of it."

he chuckles, eyes crinkling. he has such a nice laugh. "why's that? respect?"

you nod, giving a little bow. "respect is very important in my culture as well. so thank you for saving my life, young-il sir."

he grins a little and pats your head. you thank him again, and decide you like him enough. so you tell him your name.

he tests it on his tongue, and you quite like the way he says it.

the next game had to be the most terrifying so far.

it was called mingle, and you had to run to the rooms in groups according to the number announced. things like these were where you got scared— where you had to group with people. in dangerous situations, you know people usually only look out for two types of people— themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

you were not dear to anyone here. you really should've interacted with more people.

the platform rotates, before the number is announced. six. your eyes widen and you frantically look around, but young-il is faster. he grabs you and drags you to the room with the rest of the team. you pant as the 30 seconds pass, and then look out the window in the door to see how many people were left— quite a few. your eyes widen as the red guards move forward with their guns raised.

young-il leaps forward and covers your eyes with his hand before pulling you into himself as the gunshots ring out— you flinch and shudder at every single one, breathing sharp and your entire frame trembling violently. when there is silence and the doors open, you look up. young-il gently lets go of you, looking around. he's panting too, and you look at him with the most crushed look on your face before he meets your gaze. he can tell what you want to know— why would you do that?

"you shouldn't have to see all this." he says quietly, adjusting his jacket and putting a little distance between you two. 456 pats your shoulder and makes sure people are okay before moving out. you just look at young-il for a while, but he simply looks around, seemingly lost in thought. as if fighting a war within himself. you wish you knew how to reassure him like he did with you, but you realize you barely know anything about him.

the entire floor is painted with blood. the sight makes you want to vomit. you walk carefully, but your foot slips in someone's blood and you begin to fall over. 456 catches you. "are you alright?"

instinctively, your gaze tries to find young-il but he's standing away. his head is lowered.

"yes, thank you." you give 456 a smile, before assuming your place on the platform again.

you play a few more rounds. you're lucky enough to have someone to team with each time— young-il and 456 don't let go of you even once. but then the voice runs out again, and they announce the number 3. this time, 456 is dragged along with the old woman and her son. you look around frantically, and meet young-il's panicked gaze with your own. you begin to run towards him, but two people grab you and drag you towards one of the rooms.

thanos and nam-gyu. you shriek at them, clawing at their arms and trying to run back out. what if young-il doesn't make it? what if something bad happens?

this time, you have no one to cover your eyes or ears. thanos and nam-gyu talk shit within themselves, and you look outside the little window, flinching with every gunshot ringing out, trying to pinpoint if it's young-il's body falling to the ground. you can't help the light sob erupting from your throat, and thanos chooses the wrong moment to come bother you.

"watcha looking for, señorita?" he laughs, poking your side, "is it your old man? did he finally—"

you turn to him and punch him in the face. he falls back and groans dramatically, rubbing the blood running down his nose. nam-gyu rushes to his rescue, giggling. they're both high as a kite. the doors open, and you rush out before they can bother you further.

you look around. 456 is with the rest of the team, but you can't find young-il. frantically, you look towards the dead bodies, heart pounding against your chest and head throbbing. suddenly, there's cheers from your team, and you look up to see young-il walking over with a bright grin on his face.

you don't know what compelled you to do it. you were acting on your emotions— overwhelmed by the relief you felt on the sight of his face. before you can even stop, you're dashing towards him and crashing into his body, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

he's shocked, that much is obvious by the way he tenses slightly. but then he returns the hug, wrapping his arms around you and placing one hand on your head, gently patting. "i told you we'd make it."

you choke on a soft sob, nodding, burying your head further into his chest, as if ready to climb inside him, "i thought you—"

he shushes you softly, voice gentle as he runs a hand through your hair. you can feel his heart racing against his chest too. you wonder if it's for the same reasons as you. "i'm okay."

you wish the game ended there. but there was one more round to go. as you rotated on the platform— the moment you were dreading finally happened as young-il predicted it. the number announced was two.

you were ready to die there. things seemed to happen in slow motion— 456 took his best friend 390, 149 was dragged by her son. you didn't get the chance to see who took who next, because young-il had grabbed your hand and was dragging you towards one of the rooms. there were only fifty rooms— the first one you two got to was taken. he dragged you to another with a mere ten seconds left.

you sighed in relief as you got in, before seeing another man was already there. he was shaking in fear, and you jumped at the harshness of young-il's voice when he ordered him to get out. when the other player refused, young-il lunged at him and put him in a headlock.

your eyes widened and you stepped forward, panic stricken but he looked right at you and called your name, "close your eyes!"

you flinched. you looked at the man, then at young-il, before squeezing your eyes shut. you slid to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest as soon as you heard a 'crack' before opening your eyes.

the player was dead. young-il cracked his neck.

the timer finished at that exact moment, and young-il crawled over to you before pulling you into his chest. the gunshots rang out, and you flinched, sobbing.

young-il killed someone.

"i had to do it," he whispered against your hair, holding your head against his chest, "we both have to make it out alive. i had to do it. you know that right?"

you wanted to believe him, you really did. but in that moment, you felt scared of him for the first time.

the doors opened, and the game finished.

while you wanted to revel in your victory, the incident during mingle had rattled you to your core. the others checked up on you, especially 388 and 456. young-il maintained some distance. you could feel like he thought it's what you wanted. but you could really use his comfort. you just don't know how to talk to him again without being nervous. you force yourself to relive your previous interactions with him— he's still the same young-il who has saved you and comforted you countless times.

he did what he had to do to ensure your survival. that wasn't something you could hold against him. not when both of your lives were on the line.

the voting this time was just as challenging. you made your way to the front of the crowd, praying that they'd choose wisely this time. you need to go home.

one of the players in the old man's team showed you the finger before clicking the 'o' button. the action made your eye twitch, and you grit your teeth before straightening up to attack that guy and scratch his face off, but a hand to your chest held you back.

if looks could kill, young-il's glare could've sent that guy home in a body bag. as the votes in favour of continuing the game increased, you pushed his hand off you and addressed the crowd, "have you all lost your fucking minds?!"

their chitter chatter stopped and they looked at you. you clench your jaw, "after losing so many people out there you still want to play? what the fuck is wrong with you people? are human lives that invaluable to you?"

player 100 steps forward, insufferable as always. "don't you see how much money we're getting for each person? it could settle our debt! we can't give up after how far we've come."

"you're gonna die!" you snap, pointing at him, "you could take this money and go home and be happy instead of risking your life for something that is not assured to you! why won't you listen?! i want to go home!"

the others in favour of terminating the game start chanting with you, a string of 'i want to go home' echoing across the room.

player 100 glares, urging his own team to chant against you. he looks towards young-il, yells something along the lines of, "look after your fucking kid!" before the barell of a gun presses against the back of your head. the whole room freezes, and so do you.

"disruptions against a democratic vote will not be excused." the robotic voice calls out. for a second you think this is it. you look at young-il. if you die here, you'd prefer the man who saved your life to be the last person you see. he glares at the guard, his jaw clenching. the guard lowers the gun and steps back and you let out a breath of relief.

you immediately saunter over to him, gritting your teeth. the vote is a tie— and they announce the next voting to be held tomorrow.

456 says there's about to be a fight. the rest of the team got busy setting up a barricade— and you didn't get the chance to talk to your player. you knew his concern though, when he made sure to especially hide your side of the bed with two mattresses.

you play with the hem of your shirt as you sit in your bed by your lonesome. your food sits by you, untouched. you dont feel like eating. the weight on the bed shifts, and young-il appears into view.

"you're not eating."

you swallow the lump in your throat. "i don't feel like it."

he contemplates, eyes lowered before he looks at you again. "im sorry you had to witness that. I don't want you to be scared of me."

you want to cry. "im not." you whisper, "you.. you had to do what you had to do. to save us."

he blinks, nodding.

"back there, i thought that was it. it's over." you chuckle bitterly. "but you saved me again. you acted on impulse. i could never resent you for it."

your eyes are bloodshot as you look at him again. fat tears roll down your cheeks, and he frowns. he sighs before leaning closer, brushing the tears away. "why are you crying?"

"i wouldn't have survived this far if it wasn't for you." you whisper, voice cracking. "promise me you wouldn't abandon me. promise me you won't die."

his gaze softens. he's silent for a bit, his hand coming to rest on your knee, "i promise."

you sniffle, wiping your tears away. a small smile appears on your face, "i punched thanos."

"thanos?" he frowns, confused before raising his eyebrows in recognition, "ah, the loud kid with the purple hair?"

you nod proudly. "he said something like 'did 001 finally die?' so i punched him."

he laughs heartily— face scrunching cutely, eyes crinkling. he shakes his head fondly before ruffling your hair again. "attagirl."

it makes you blush slightly and you smile, looking down at your lap. he grabs your dinner— the roll sitting next to you and unwraps it, taking out a piece before holding it out, "eat."

you snort before leaning forward and taking a bite. he looks at you for a while with that faraway look in his eyes, before wordlessly continuing to feed you the rest. the words go unsaid. 'what are we doing? why are we so comfortable with each other?'

some sauce sticks to the corner of your mouth. he raises his hand to hold your chin, his thumb gently wiping it off. your breath hitches.

neither of you protest when his thumb brushes across your bottom lip, gaze focused on it like he's hypnotized. he's thinking, mindlessly feeling the plush texture of it.

you've always been impulsive. especially in situations where you shouldn't be. it happens so naturally— how your lips part just slightly. and maybe he's impulsive too, because his thumb slips inside, and his breath hitches as soon as your lips wrap around his thumb.

his gaze raises to meet yours— and you blink almost dazedly. his thumb presses down on your tongue, and he calls out your name in the softest voice.

"i'm too old for you." he whispers, shaking his head in disapproval.

your eyes flutter, and you lean forward, grabbing hold of his wrist. he pulls his thumb out, and you almost whine in protest. to your utter delight, he replaces it with two of his fingers, and your eyes almost roll back as you crawl forward till you're situated on his lap, mouth stuffed with his index and middle finger. you suck on them enthusiastically. they're long and thick and perfect and you don't want them out of your mouth ever again. it elicits a soft moan out of him— and if you could put that sound on repeat for the rest of your life, you'd be happy.

he pulls his fingers out and grabs the back of your head, pulling you close till your foreheads press together. you try to lean forward, to capture his lips with your own. he chuckles slightly, eyes closed, playfully rubbing his nose against yours. you whine.

"so impatient." he whispers, and then his lips are colliding with yours. it would be embarrassing if someone were to catch you two like this— more so for him than for you. thankfully, the others are busy strategizing for the night, and are not looking for either of you.

you moan softly and he bites down on your bottom lip, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. it's desperate and reckless and so full of spit— it makes you whimper into his mouth and he pulls you further into himself, as if telling you to shut up. his experience is obvious in the way he kisses, and you follow his lead. unknowingly, your hips start gently grinding against his thigh, and he lets out a soft hiss. he pulls away slightly, strings of saliva connecting your mouths. he licks it away.

"come on, sweetheart," he whispers, one hand coming down to help your hips grind against his thigh, "make yourself feel good— that's it, that's my good girl."

you moan softly, and his free hand clamps your mouth shut. he speeds his movement, clenching and unclenching the muscle of his thigh, guiding your hips to move faster against his lap. it's been so long since you've masturbated— and this is unarguably the hottest situation you've ever been in, with the hottest man you've ever seen. so you're already close. you cry out into his hand, your voice muffled. he understands what you mean and lets you move on your own speed then, pulling your head into the crook of his neck as he whispers soft words of praise into your ear.

the moment he calls you his good girl again, you cum. he muffles the sound with his hand, squeezing his eyes shut before he looks at you intensely. you collapse against him, slightly sweaty, your hands holding onto his shoulders as you cling to him. he runs his hand through your hair, breathing sharply. it's a small moment of bliss in the hell you've found yourself in.

soon, the lights go out, and dread settles in your stomach once you feel his body tensing. player 388 pulls one of the mattresses back slightly, hisses a quick "get under the bed!"

and the next game begins.

A/N: this was incredibly fun to write. i love writing him a little soft and fatherly, so deal with it. i might write a part 2 for this, if anyone wants that. this idea has been in my head for a while. i love him so, so much. this fic is my baby and i truly hope you guys like reading it as much as i liked writing it.

tags! @carolinevoight @lovers-roq @wildtigerlili @menabuser16 @deadlyobsessivfennec @watasinekoru @hanakokunzz @cowuies

[matchingbatbites]

Eddie doesn't like sports.

Well, okay, that's not technically true. Growing up in the deep south left him with an ingrained interest in college football that he's not sure he'll ever be able to shake, but at least he can understand that game. He doesn't know a single fucking thing about hockey.

The rest of the guys had been excited when Chrissy said the band had been offered tickets to see the local NHL team. He was upset by how quickly he'd been outnumbered, but the boys had plied him with the promise of violence on ice, and that was enough to sooth the betrayal, at least a little.

Which is how he finds himself here, smushed between Chrissy and Gareth and not really as engaged as he should be, watching a bunch of men run around on the ice - sometimes literally, which is crazy. There has been a little violence though, so that's something at least.

Eddie blinks when Chrissy hands him a small dry erase board and a couple of markers that she pull from her bag. "What's this for?"

"You're famous, Eddie. The arena staff knows we're here, which means we're probably going to be on camera. I figured you could entertain yourself with some appropriate messages. Appropriate," she reiterates, and Eddie grabs at his chest like he's been shot.

"You wound me! As if I would ever deign to flash the cameras with a message that's anything less than the pinnacle of wholesome!"

Chrissy rolls her eyes but smiles - ever used to his dramatics by now - and just turns back to the game. Right, sometimes it's easy to forget that Chrissy is actually a sports person.

Eddie gets to work on his first message, not entirely sure when they're going to be the focus of the large screen above them. Chrissy glances over to see what he's writing and just sighs, and Eddie can't bite back his grin.

It's actually not too long before the announcer mentions something that isn't related to the game, and then-

"With nearly twelve million monthly listeners on Spotify, please welcome local metal band, Corroded Coffin!"

Eddie looks up to see their faces on the screen and grins as he turns his board around, showing off the LOOKIN 4 HUSBAND he's written in block letters. There's a mix of cheers and laughter from the crowd, and Eddie can't help but give a joking wink to the camera before he's laughing as well.

Chrissy smacks him on the arm and says "I can't believe you," but she's smiling as well. Eddie just shrugs and cleans the message from the whiteboard, freeing up space for him to doodle in between catching glances at the game.

It's a little bit later when a big fight breaks out, and a few players from each team are sent to the- box? The box. Eddie watches the big screen as the camera follows one of the players, tracking the man as he steps inside the little booth and rips his helmet off in frustration and- holy shit.

The guy is fucking stunning; his jaw, his nose, his sweat-damp hair and the beauty marks scattered across his skin like stars. Eddie wants to get closer, wants to know the color of his eyes and smooth the crease between his brows, wants to shove his fingers into that pretty, pink mouth-

And then the camera changes, going back to the players on the ice, and Eddie blinks like he's been released from a spell. He turns to Chrissy, one hand grabbing at her arm as he says "Who the fuck was that guy?"

Chrissy glances at him but keeps most of her attention on the game. "Harrington? He's literally the captain of our team, Eddie. I know you're not super into this, but that's kind of a hard thing to miss."

The man huffs a little as he releases Chrissy's arm. "I know literally jack-shit about this game, Chrissy, nothing is hard to miss."

Eddie takes the chance to re-write his white board before turning it to face outward, hoping that some cameraman will take pity on him and put him back on screen. He's not sure how long Harrington has in what is essentially timeout, but Eddie keeps his eyes on him all the same, glad that they're actually not too far away from the box.

It's a couple of minutes later when the announcer says "Looks like our friends Corroded Coffin have another message, this time for team captain Steve Harrington," and Eddie doesn't need to look to know that the screen is showing his new sign: #14 U R PRETTY. DATE?

He sees Harrington - Steve - look up, and watches as the frustration melts from his face, only for the prettiest pink blush to spread across his cheeks and ears. The guy laughs - and christ, Eddie didn't think he could get any more beautiful, but here he is - and doesn't hesitate to nod, even makes a little call me motion like he knows Eddie's watching him.

Eddie beams and nods back, laughs when the other player in the box shoves Steve playfully and makes a comment that deepens the blush on his face. He gets a couple of shoves and smacks from his own friends and a bewildered "I can't believe you just did that!" from Gareth.

Chrissy leans into him as he cleans the board again. "Hockey's not so boring now, is it?" she says, and Eddie can't help but agree, his eyes never leaving the ice - leaving Steve - for the rest of the game.

[xiaq]

I want an AU where Steve is a werewolf and Eddie is a vampire except neither of them know about the other.

Eddie is the frontman of an up and coming band, but he's left his coven and surrounded himself with humans. They perform after sunset anyway so it's easy enough for him to hide his nature.

Steve has similarly left his toxic family pack and built his own pseudo-pack through the kids. He works as a park ranger. Or an ornithologist. Or something else nature-y/nerdy. But no one knows about his furry little secret.

Maybe Steve ends up attending a concert with one of the kids who has VIP passes and Eddie zeros in on Steve immediately at the meet and greet because he's pretty and preppy and delightfully out of place and also he smells good. And Steve is having similar thoughts, but he tries to play it off because there's no way an honest to god rock star would be interested in him and his polo and his boat shoes (also his hearing is temporarily fucked from the concert, so he doesn't register Eddie's lack of heartbeat).

After some light flirting, Eddie invites Steve back to his hotel and Steve is like, you know what? Yes. I am going to have a one night stand with the gorgeous front man of a metal band and I'll probably fall a little in love with him by the end of the night and it will break my heart when he kicks me out in the morning, but it will be an experience. Let me go drop off my kids and I'll be right back.

Except what he doesn't know is Eddie is planning to have a little snack while they're in the throes of passion––not enough to hurt Steve or anything, just enough that he'll have a pleasurable blackout and wake up tired but sated.

The only problem is that neck-biting (that breaks the skin) for wolves is the equivalent of marriage.

So when Eddie bites Steve, instead of a venom-drunk human, peacefully slipping into sleep in his arms, he gets a very horny, very confused, werewolf who is now insisting that they're married.

I can't decide if it would be funnier if Wolves/Vampires didn't know about each other, Ie:

"You're a Werewolf?" Eddie says, "What do you mean you're a werewolf? Werewolves exist? No. Shut up. Prove it."

And:

"Holy shit. A vampire. Vampires are real," Steve reaches for Eddie's face and Eddie is so baffled by the everything of this situation that he lets Steve pinch Eddie's top lip and peel it up off his fangs for a mortifyingly long moment. Eddie draws the line when he starts poking at Eddie's incisors, though.

"Why do I feel funny?" Steve mutters. "Will your venom kill me?"

"How should I know," Eddie hisses, only a little hysterical, "I didn't know wolves existed until two minutes ago, I've never bitten a wolf before."

"And you won't be biting any others, mister. Infidelity is not ok."

The other option is that wolves and vamps DO know about each other but stay so isolated in their covens and packs (and loners are super unusual) that they never interact. So Steve and Eddie are both like, dang, I'd been raised to think all of your kind were smelly/ugly/gross, but you uh, don't fit into that box at all. Weird.

Regardless, Steve (still naked, probably) crosses his arms all huffy, like, "well, we're married now, you're not going to bite me and then cast me aside like some harlot," and Eddie is like "...I'm weirdly ok with this, actually. No arguments here." And eventually they live happily ever after.

[thedevilsoftruth]

...From all the things I do

New Avengers!Bucky x F! Reader

Sum - your sweet hubby freaks you out on a coffee table In the compound while you start to babble absolute nonsense ♡

W/c - 960 words

Smut tags - married relationship, porn no plot, semi public sex, encouragement, squirting, piv sex, missionary -> with your legs on his shoulders, making you touch yourself, cunnilingus, determined Bucky who never breaks a promise, light spanking. Not beta read. All of my fics are written with plus size inclusivity.

A/n - wrote this from 4-5 am with All I Need by Lloyd on REPEAT. I am very sleep deprived and ovulation is very mean to me. Enjoy.

MDNI!!! I am NOT responsible for what you find on the internet.

[my request box is open. Please see my pinned post for more information regarding my request rules.]

"c'mon, sweet peach. Am I not going hard enough? Wanna hear your pretty mouth." He mutters as he kisses the tip of your ear, his cold, left metal hand holding you down onto the coffee table. The scene the two of you were painting in the common room area of the new Avengers' compound was absolutely, utterly, disgustingly obscene. You, laid on your back on the glass coffee table people ate at at gripping the rims of it while Bucky stood between your thick thighs, his heavy cock thrusting into you deep and harsh.

A metal hand reaches over your face and taps your flushed cheek. A long streak of drool drizzles down your chin. You blink and whine like a puppy begging for food, your back arching into the palm of his right hand on your tummy, your hips nodding up and down his.

"Words, babydoll." He says, the fleshy palm of his sweaty right hand coming down onto your flushed ass harsh would a loud clap. You make a tiny noise at it, your tingling body jolting forward by the contact.

"Words," you repeated, completely dazed and fucked-out, unsure of what you were even saying. It was almost as though you were repeating it as to not forget what he had told you, but it didn't take long for the word to slip through your head like a passing thought.

"What?" He spanked you harder. That time, he was finally able to draw you out of the misty clouds of your overwhelming lust for just a little bit.

"I love you!" You blurt out, biting your lip, grinding your pussy against your husband's hips, begging him for more friction despite who over sensitive your pussy felt. A smile breaks upon his face at how absolutely fucked and incoherent you sounded. Initially, you had just came there go drop off his lunch maybe say hi to Yelena, but instead he was fucking absolute nonsense out of you in the common room.

Bucky shook his head and laughed, rasing a brow as he out his metal hand on your back again and slowly, oh so slowly, let his cock sinks back into your drooling pussy. He watched his black wedding ring bling under the sunlight and your pretty pussy welcome him back into you like it always did.

"I love you too." He breathed, somewhere between a wheeze and a laugh as he shook his head and fucked back into you. Your messy flesh clicked softly around his thick cock, your eyes rolling back and your moans getting so loud, he was sure people 10 floors down could hear.

"There she is. My good girl." He praises, tilting his head to the side thoughtfully as he snaked a flesh hand between your trembling thick thighs to rub your clit. You choked on a moan, your knuckles turning white around the table, your toes curling around nothing and your needy pussy pulsating around him, signaling your orgasm.

"Oohohoho." He laughs darkly, rubbing your little button harder and making you squeal. "You're gettin' close soon, ain't that right, pretty girl?" His cock pushed into you, slow and deep and reverent. You swallowed thickly and nodded frantically.

"So close." You repeated. Bucky grinned and took it as a sign. He placed both of his big hands on your hips and sunk so impossibly deep that you swore your vision became white for a moment.

"Touch yourself for me, baby. Wanna see you cummin' all over my cock like a good little wife." He told you before he picked up your legs and placed them over his broad shoulders. You melted into his touch, and wasted no time to obey him. Your right hand snaked between your elevated thighs, and you ran a shaking middle finger down your pretty, messy pearl.

"Yeah, jus' like that. Yeah, such a pretty, good little girl." Bucky praises, his voice hoarse and breathless as he smiled, pretty and all teeth, and picked up his pace a little bit. The sensations of your little clit being rubbed and your husband's perfect cock pumping in and out of you sent you over the edge. In the matter of seconds, you were cumming violently with a very loud moan that shook the room. Little streams of hot, milky fluid spurred over his pelvis.

Bucky blinked a few times. His mouth was open like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. You couldn't either. All you knew what that you felt warm, floaty, and relived.

"Oh. Baby." He said slowly, slowly sinking himself out of you.

Fuck it, he'd come later on his own or unless you wanted another round after what he was gonna do to you.

"Fuckin' look at that." He rasped, sinking to his knees in front of you and spreading you open with his big hands. You whined. Groaned when his mouth found your cum flooded pussy.

"God damn, honey." He moaned, his thick tongue lapping up your milky fluids. Your hands shot to his fluffy, long hair, tugging right at his bangs. His thick, full beard was rubbing your thighs in the perfect way that you liked. The tip of his tongue dragged then rolled across your shiny pearl, and you gasped and tugged at his hair. Bucky groaned and shook his head against your pussy before messily slurping a fat, wet line down your folds.

"Gonna make you squirt a over my face again. Don't fucking care how long it takes, I will make you cum for me again." He grunted, holding you down with his metal hand on your tummy as he absolutely devoured you. But the words he was speaking weren't just him telling you his plans, they were a goddamn promise.

[snailpebbles]

your fic about Chishiya was so good I feel like you captured his character perfectly 😩 will you write more about him? I can barely find any good writings about him and yours is truly so perfect 😔💓

Patchwork Love

pairing: Chishiya Shuntaro x gn!reader

summary: after being injured in a game, Chishiya drags you off and is somehow more silent than usual. What's his problem?

tags: friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, they're both so stupid

warnings: descriptions of injuries including blood, non-sexual unwanted touch, emotional constipation, Chishiya cries lmao

a/n: hope you enjoy :) my writing is rusty lol but I love this trope

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Everything was going fine at first; you were on your own in a level three spades game, lightwork! It was a construction zone with many metal rails and walkways, and multiple wide pipes at the very top. The objective was simple - get to the top before the time runs out. At first it was that simple, that is until the freezing cold water began to pour in randomized sections. A game of strength and luck it seems. There were others from the Beach with you, so of course you figured you'd just team up and make sure no one slips. Wrong! To save their own asses just as the four of you were getting towards the top, they used your body as an easier to grip ladder. Not only did you feel violated, you also felt icy cold fear mixing with white hot rage. What the fuck? You pulled those three up so many times at the risk of drowning and for what?

The water pours down on you as they cheer from the top with just two minutes left, freezing and blinding you as you struggle to actually breathe. Two hands on one thin bar that's already trembling under your suspended weight. Fuck. Everything felt like a blur as you hauled your leg over another bar, using all your strength to not drown from the water rushing across you and to pull yourself onto the walkway. For a moment it seems like something had snapped, your leg overstretched and arms overexerted. You aren't built for this! Your life before consisted of studying and absolutely destroying kids on x-box! As you lay on the metal grating, water having ceased with a heaving chest, Chishiyas face flashes in your mind. Well fuck - you're realizing you like him at the worst possible time. With that motivation in mind alongside the need to deck those three in the balls, you force your aching body up the rest of those rails with ten seconds left on the clock.

The three boys are obviously shocked to see you alive and rush off, once again leaving you behind with no transportation back. Lovely.

You aren't quite sure how you managed to get back to Beach but by the time you do, the sun is beginning to rise. Damn, what if they vacated your room? The morning air is chilly and you know you have some sort of hypothermia if your chilled fingertips are anything to go by, not to mention the way your head is beginning to swim - pun intended.

As your torn up, shaking form stumbles through the gates past a few surprised militants and even more surprised party-goers, Kuina barrels towards you. She looks both put together and a mess, her eyes red rimmed and seeming to water - pun intended - as her warm hands cup your ice cold cheeks. She chokes up at this realization and ushers you inside, muttering something about Ann being a little busy with some project as she leads you two to a familiar door.

Chishiyas face, as calm as ever, cracks when Kuina barges in. He's up in an instant and wasting no time as apparently one look at you is enough to know what you need - or maybe he just knows you. A blanket is around your shoulders before you can blink and now you're on his bed, unfortunately not in the context you'd wish for now. Kuina runs off after Chishiya instructs her to get a whole load of things, but you honestly have no idea what because you're too busy staring at him. Chishiyas face is contorted in a way you've never seen before or at least haven't been the recipient of. His eyes are focused in solely on you, his brows furrowed and typical smirk gone in favor of a grimace. Most notable are his hands resting heavy on your shoulders as if you'd shrug the warm blanket off. Those hands you now realize match those in your dreams are surprisingly warm and unsurprisingly steady - Chishiya was a little less smart than you thought if he didn't know by now that you knew of his profession. The idea of him in a doctors coat distracts you as he gets up from where he was crouched in front of you, reappearing with bandages and disinfectant.

"So..how'd your game go?" You break the awkward silence and feel your cheeks warm at how scratchy your voice is. Must've been the borderline constant drowning. His sharp gaze makes you almost flinch with the weight in it, your own eyes dropping back to your lap. Of course he doesn't respond, only making some vaguely disapproving noises as those eyes scan your wounds. His silence begins to piss you off, that rage from earlier being misdirected at him. Seriously, you almost died in a frankly horrific way and this is all he has to give?

"I can patch myself up. I'm not helpless." The tension rises, twisting uncomfortably in your gut as Chishiya stays in place while you glare at him. With a huff as he refuses to speak, you get up on weak legs. This seems to snap him out of it as he grabs your hips - and just at the right time. Your legs give way as the exhaustion hits all at once to only fuel that anger, a frustrated sound coming from you as Chishiya tuts disapprovingly again.

"Stay still. You're hurt and too tired to move." His voice is rough and annoyingly calm. Is he allergic to worrying? You obey though as he unravels the bandages and uncaps the disinfectant, steeling yourself for the following pain.

The blond has the grace to look at least a little apologetic at every wince and soft cry your battered form gives, even letting you hold onto either his shoulders or jacket. The cuts, scraps, bruises, and blood staining your body worry him even if he doesn't show it. Images begin flashing in his mind of internal bleeding, broken ribs, torn muscles-

"Are you..crying?" Your soft voice breaks the less tense silence, your own tears having dried up some time ago. Chishiya pales as he becomes aware of the liquid dripping down his cheeks and hastily wipes them away, refusing to meet your gaze or lift his head.

"No." He replies shortly, heart picking up its pace as he realizes he has to patch your torn hands. You follow his gaze and readily hold both hands out, skin raw and bleeding still. He winces internally at the sight of your beautiful hands so heavily marred.

Warmth spreads through you as he takes your hand in his non-dominant one to carefully disinfect it, whispering apologies as you hold back cries of pain. Somehow you aren't too shocked by this display of care, an inner part of you having sensed something was different by the lingering looks and the way he is always there. Chishiya wraps your hand with a gentleness you weren't sure he possessed, repeating the process with your other hand until every wound is patched up. Not a word was properly shared, your eyes rarely met, and you didn't comment again on the occasional slip of tears you caught.

"Go change in the bathroom." He mutters after passing you actual clothes, aka his own sweatpants and a t shirt. Once you step back out of the bathroom - definitely not after taking a moment to admire yourself in his clothes - Chishiya does just what you definitely didn't. The admiration is well hidden yet you catch it in the way he turns his head slightly to the left and steps back, as if you're a danger.

"These are really comfy, thanks." An appreciative smile brightens your face and threatens to blind him, so he sits down where you were moments earlier. You take a seat beside him and try to hide your steadily growing flustered state when that damn white jacket is placed around your shoulders. He says nothing so neither do you, the silence now companionable even as sparks burn its edges.

"What happened." It's not a question and you know that, just as you know what happened isn't your fault. The tears, anger and irrational shame, prick your eyes anyways. He doesn't comment, he only takes your pinkie with his.

After a deep inhale and calming exhale, you speak. "It was an easy spades game and I teamed up with three guys from here, but towards the end they just.." You choke up momentarily, but with the way his hand moves to rub your forearm, you know you'll get it out.

"They knocked me down so I was hanging and used me like a fucked up bridge- their hands were everywhere and I know it was for survival only but it was so..so dehumanizing." The words come out softer and softer until you aren't even sure Chishiya can hear, but he does. He only ever listens for you. His face is as calm as ever as you cry, arm light as it wraps around your shoulder to bring you into the only safe haven you have in this fucked up place.

Time passes, you aren't sure how much but you are sure you've dozed off, yet Chishiya hasn't moved once. He holds you close and his fingers still rub circles on your shoulder, mindful of a bruise there as he's memorized your injuries. There's some snacks and another blanket on the small dresser, presumably brought by Kuina.

Chishiya knows you've slipped into that numb state, so he doesn't mind helping you eat some crackers and drink that tea you're so obsessed with. He doesn't mind keeping you right there, right where he can protect you and you can rest; where you can heal yourself. What he does mind is you deciding to break out of this numbness by pestering him.

"You cried." You whisper, poking his chest lightly as his arms tenses around you. For a moment you fear you may have misjudged the air and his actions, envy flooding - pun unintended - through you at the idea that maybe all his patients get such treatment. His answer calms your thoughts.

"Yes, you could say I was..worried. Don't do that again." His warm breath brushes across the top of your head and a faint smile tugs at your lips from the slight roughness to his typically smooth voice. Your head props up on his chest so you can see him and he can't resist looking down at you. His eyebrow raises in a silent question that has you grin, that familiar smirk returning.

"If it gets me this treatment.."

"No."

"Worth a shot."

"..You don't need to be hurt to get my attention." The one-sided banters comes to a halt as your eyes widen, staring at his ever calm face like he hand painted the stars for you. If he could, he would.

With a slight grunt you manage to sit up a little better, worry flickering over Chishiyas face at your show of pain. Damn you could get used to this. Words aren't his thing so what better communication than action? Even with bandages, your hands ever so carefully cup his jaw, moving slowly incase he doesn't want this.

Chishiya really fucking wants this. With the way you're being so gentle, so considerate, when others in his life haven't almost keels him over. But you're injured, mentally and physically, so slow and steady will win this race. The kiss is soft and unhurried, as if there isn't an invisible timer looming over your heads. Time is irrelevant when he whispers your name oh so quietly and his hand oh so carefully caresses your matching tear stained cheek. With every touch, every shared breath, the previous hands are washed away for now. They'll haunt you at night but Chishiya will be there to wipe them away, whether that be with affection or simply being there as you get a snack to soothe your brain.

You know why he cried, why he looked so worried, why it's his clothes you're wearing, and why Kuina said Ann was busy when you actually passed by her lounging in the hall. He loves and he cares, the same as you. It only took almost losing you to realize it.

As you separate slowly and lay down, drawn together as if magnets, you drift off. Chishiya waits patiently as your breath evens out before slipping away.

It's the next morning when you wake up alone in the cold bed, insecure heartbreak seeping in until Chishiya quietly walks into the room, not hesitating with the gentle squeeze to your shoulder and kiss to your head. No words are exchanged when you settle in the chair next to him by his desk, watching him build who knows what as you munch away on those snacks. His ankle his hooked with yours and that is all that matters - you can ignore the split knuckles and prideful hint to his face because he's yours, and you're his.

[highway-143]

number 10- nishimura riki

genre: smut, desire : unleash engene ver. au, based on this ask

pairing: contestant!riki x fem contestant!reader

taglist: @urlocalmultigroupfan @minkilicious @vrusha01 @shyoko @planetmarlowe

word count: 1.6k

now playing: confident- justin bieber

a.n- teehee ty anon for the request, i kinda had to interpret the concept video weird for it but i think its a similar concept, idk

tw: death/murder, graphic explanations, oral (f. rec), unprotected, dom!riki, profanity, scary themes idk

(mostly proofread)

all scenarios are fake and are not meant to represent any idol in the story.

. ⁺ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ‧₊˚✩彡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

running was getting fucking hard.

you were panting, hands clawing against the bloodied walls while you tried to get away, tried to escape this stupid prison.

the metal collar around your neck wasn't helping either. it weighed you down, making you slower, as if it wasn't already tracking you.

and then the figure appears.

tall, only a few yards away, yet shrouded in darkness on the other end of the hallway.

you freeze, hoping it wouldn't notice you.

but it already had. the thing walks closer, taking slow, almost cautious steps in your direction.

"hello?" it whispers.

you breathe out a sigh of relief. thank god, another contestant.

but then you see it, him, in the faint green lighting.

he was beautiful. dark and rumpled hair, sharp features, and a strong jawline.

"thank god, you're one too. i'm 99, jay."

"i'm y/n, 03." you say, wavering a little in case he's someone you need to avoid. "have you seen anyone else?"

"not yet," he mutters, looking around. "you wanna team up?"

you watch him carefully. he adjust the collar, shifting it around his neck. he looks nice enough, what could it hurt by sticking with him, at least for a little bit.

"sure. let's go that way."

you and jay walk through the halls, taking turn after turn until-

a dead end.

mostly.

a metal door obstructed your path, and jay turns to you.

"want me to check?"

you nod, trying to bury the fear building up in the pit of your stomach.

jay opens the door, taking a slow, experimental step in and looking back at you.

and then he steps all the way in.

big mistake.

you watch as the door slams shut behind him, the handle stuck when you try to open it again.

you try to listen through the door.

nothing.

but then you look down.

and there's blood pouring out from under the door. you slam a hand over your mouth, holding back your choked scream.

player 99 was dead.

you watch as the thick, red liquid pools around your boots, staining the white material.

you almost throw up, but you walk away, trying to find a way out of this damn hell hole.

you find another room, this time peering in before stepping inside. not like you could see anything anyways. and thank god, because you didn't meet the same fate as jay.

instead, the lights snap on, the door shuts with a click behind you, and your eyes practically disintegrate from the newfound brightness.

you aren't fully prepared for what's in front of you.

it's another player, a man again, tied to a chair with black ropes and facing a metal table with a flashing box on it.

"finally, somebody else fell for it, come and untie me."

you roll your eyes and crouch behind him, fingers setting to untie his bonds.

"how'd you get in here?" you ask, pulling the rope away and letting him flex his wrists.

"same as you, just walked in. somebody was in here and tied me up though, but they left."

you nod, looking around the room. now that you were used to it, the lights weren't that bright at all. in fact, they were dimmer than before. there was a camera in the corner, the head pointed directly at the table.

and then, the device.

it didn't take long for you to realize what it was.

a bomb.

the timer was at 31:09

and counting down.

31:08, 31:07, 31:06

you turn to the guy. "it's gonna explode an a half hour."

he laughs. "you think i didn't know that? i can see you know."

you roll your eyes again.

"bitch." you mutter.

"actually, it's riki."

you shake your head. "do i look like i give a shit?"

he laughs, standing from his chair and taking a look at the bomb on the table.

"i like you, you've got energy." he says, poking at a wire.

you don't say anything, just examine the room and try not to stare at riki.

because he had to be cute and an asshole, of course.

"what's your name?" he asks, sitting back down in the chair.

you slump against the wall, sliding down to the ground. "y/n."

"did you see anyone else out there?"

"yeah but..." your voice hitches. "he was eliminated."

"oh." riki's face is somber. "was it 71?" there's an urgency in his expression now.

"no, 99."

"thank god." he grabs his chest, his heart racing. "71's my sister."

your heart sinks. you feel terrible for riki, his own family forced into this stupid game.

you sit in silence, waiting for your death.

it didn't feel real. it was like a dream. how were you and riki supposed to come to terms with the fact that you'd be dead in...

13:42

thirteen minutes.

and then, as you feel tears start to fall from your eyes, there's a long beep from the bomb. you jumped, thinking it was detonating early.

you and riki watch as numbers turn into letters that slowly become words.

𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙴𝙽 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝚄𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙼𝙰𝙺𝙴 𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙴. 𝚆𝙴'𝙻𝙻 𝙱𝙴 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶.

you look over at the camera, a red light blinking next to the lens.

perfect.

just fucking great.

riki turns to the camera, staring it down.

"fucking perverts!" he yells at it, and then the bomb beeps again.

𝚂𝙰𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝚆𝙷𝙾 𝙷𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙾 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺 𝙷𝙴𝚁

riki scoffs. "we'll see about that."

he turns to you. you were standing like a post, not fully grasping what was happening.

"let's go." he says, grabbing you by the arm and pullimg you to stand in front of the chair, the backs of your knees just barely grazing the metal.

"take it off." he says, pointing at your jumper.

you don't do anything. you can't move.

riki clenches his fists. "okay, come fucking on. i have less than ten minutes to do this now." he points at the clock, now 9:46.

you blush and unzip your jumper, the white shirt underneath the only thing covering your chest.

riki pushes you to sit on the edge of the chair, with its back digging under your shoulderblades.

he kneels down, and slips a hand under the shirt, squeezing your breast while his free hand pushed your thighs apart.

you whine when his thumb grazes your nipple, and he smirks while pressing kisses up and down your thighs.

he slides a finger down your panties, pulling them down your sensitive legs. a little moan slips from your lips when he presses a finger to your clit.

"sensitive..." he mutters, grinning.

"shut up," you say, breathless. he just laughs.

he pushes a finger between your folds, collecting the slick building up between them and bringing his finger to his lips.

you moan when he sucks on the pad of his finger, and he groans at your taste.

"god, that's good..."

he leans closer to your cunt, blowing a breath of cool air over your wet lips. your hips jerk, chasing him.

he presses his lips against your clit, giving it a faint suck before trailing down and licking between your folds. his tounge felt like fire on you, his fingers digging into your thighs.

you put your hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair while he practically makes out with your pussy. he moans into you, and you push him deeper.

his nose stimulates your clit, just grazing your sensitive nub while his tounge started pushing into your hole.

you look at the clock.

5:31

shit.

you try your hardest to work up an orgasm, to let yourself go, but your efforts were in vain.

riki looks up at you, pulling away from your throbbing pussy.

"you usually this hard to please?"

"i'm nervous."

he pulls you up from the chair by your shoulder, hooking a hand under your arm and dragging you to the table.

"well i'm not dying today." he growls in your ear, bending you over the cold metal and pushing your shirt over your ass

he spreads your legs with his thigh, and you hear the rustle of fabric behint you.

you know what's coming.

you try to prepare yourself, gripping the edge of the table and locking your legs, but nothing could have gotten you ready for riki.

he pushes into your wet hole, and you struggle to take him. he's long, thick, and hard. a strangled scream comes from your mouth when he pushes deeper, his dick pressing against your cervix.

"fuck, you're tight... god damn."

you whine when he starts moving his hips, his pelvis slapping against your ass with loud claps.

his thumb reaches town to your clit, rubbing you, trying to get you to just fucking release already.

2:06

you feel the tears on the table under you, the metal heating under your trembling body.

riki groans, his own release closer than yours.

and then he spills into you. you clench violently around him, feeling his cum fill you up

yeah, some of that definetly took.

thats what has you over the edge. your legs tremble and your eyes roll back, your slick plasterd onto your thighs, dripping down your legs.

"fuck," says riki, still buried deep inside you. he looks at the camera. "stop the fucking timer! she did it, bastards!"

the timer stops.

0:16

fuck yeah.

. ⁺ ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ‧₊˚✩彡.𖥔 ݁ ˖๋ ࣭ ⭑

a.n- chat i cooked ToT

idk man, im tired. anyways, if you liked this fic, please like/comment/reblog and lmk if you have any ideas for a new one!

masterlist part 2

[cuteandhughesy]

Tripping, Falling With No Safety Net ╰┈➤ MR73

summary: four weeks has passed since your adventure in the elevator, and you haven’t stopped thinking about the attractive stranger since then. just when you think you’ll never see him again, you run into matt in the most unattractive place.

[word count] 7.8k

warnings: NSFW! kissing | masturbation (f) | sex toys (reader and matt use a vibrator) | smut | brief oral (f receiving) | mentions of blowjobs | unprotected p in v intercourse | cum play if you squint | mature dialogue and themes | read at your own discretion

a/n: the much requested and anticipated part 2 of no sex in the elevator! I hope I did this justice and you all enjoy the blooming story of matt and y/n :)

🎵 safety net by ariana grande (feat. ty dolla sign), rush by troye sivan, don't blame me by taylor swift, + make it to morning by partynextdoor

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

you see matt rempe everywhere. okay, well no—not really. the physical, almost 7ft tall man who rocked your world on the carpet of an elevator almost two months ago was nowhere in sight…physically. but his name, well you see it and hear it everywhere.

the last name you've since become well aware of is sprawled across the back of jerseys—haunting you as you walk around new york—his name is heard on the tv at work, all your male co-workers raving over how much a savage matt rempe is.

if only they knew.

that night, which somehow feels like forever ago but simultaneously feels like yesterday, has yet to leave your head—or your body. matt practically destroyed you, splitting you in two with his length until it felt like you were going to cry. the hours trapped with him really had you feeling somewhat fond of giant man, and growing enamoured with his little quirks and giggles.

not only did you learn so much about him, but matt learned so much about you. but that evening, as the maintenance finally rescued you from the hot, sex smelling metal box, you were both in such a hassle that you forgot to exchange numbers.

you didn't realize the mistake until you finally got back to your apartment, nearing 3 in the morning, crawling into bed already dreading your morning shift—still fluttering between your legs—when it dawned on you. you have no way of contacting matt, and he has no way of reaching you.

you're just two strangers who fucked in an elevator.

although neither you or matt disclosed the full extent of your professions—you knew he worked in sports. but the shock you felt when you saw him in an nhl highlight reel, over your middle aged colleagues shoulder at work nonetheless, had your jaw dropping. I mean, you should've expected it just based on the muscles underneath his soft skin, and the stamina he displayed when he was pounding into—you need to calm down.

you went home that night and found him on instagram, sending him a DM before you could overthink the situation. you've started to catch feelings for him for fucks sake, you can't allow him to slip through you fingers that easily.

but you never got a response. I mean, with the amount of DMs a young, attractive professional athlete must receive, yours was bound to get lost in the abyss—but there was still a small part of you that has hope. but that hope was started to get crushed when you were meet with radio silence for weeks.

almost 4 weeks to be exact, which in hindsight isn't that long, but when the only thing you can think about or focus on is seeing matt, or talking to him one more time—4 weeks feels like a lifetime.

4 weeks of pent up sexual frustration stemming from matt damn rempe. worst of all, not even your fingers or shitty bullet vibrator are doing the trick—you can't even make yourself cum because he’s ruined you for life.

which brings you to now, 7 p.m on a thursday night. the soft blanket strewn loosely across your bed rubs your shoulder blades soothingly as you shuffle around, brows furrowed in concentration as you slide the slick, gray vibrator through your folds.

your jaw goes slack as you bump your clit, your back arching of your bed as your nerves ignite. the humming vibrations tickle your core just right, and you're getting increasingly more wet and slippery as you hold the bullet to yourself. you're not close yet, but it feels good enough—which seems to be the new motto of your lacking sex life: good enough. a breathless sigh escapes you, legs spreading impossibly wider as your body naturally searches for more—for him.

the vibrator stutters oddly, and your eyes widen at the feeling. pushing yourself up onto your elbow, you eye the slick device. it stutters again, more frantically this time before completely quitting. you whine, body falling back in defeat. you feel like you could cry, removing the device from your folds and hastily plugging it into its charger.

it's a long shot, considering you just took it off the charger, but maybe it's battery life has decreased since you purchased the toy—in fucking college. you pump your fingers in and out of your dripping entrance while you wait, but it does nothing to soothe the burning in your loins. much like you suspected, the vibrator isn't charging. it's completely dead. garbage.

"stupid piece of shit." you roll your eyes and toss it across your bedroom. it hits the lipgloss you left on your vanity before falling into the trashcan—along with the brand new tube of rhode lipgloss still in the box. you're too horny to even worry about that right now, so you get off your bed and slip on the pair of sweatpants you'd discarded the night before.

you're feeling flushed, and the white tank top you’re wearing is doing nothing but sticking to your dewy skin uncomfortably. throwing on a zip up is the last thing you want to do, but walking to the drug store in just a tank top will have you regretting not wearing one—so here you are. just before you walk out of your apartment, you grab a pair of oversized sunglasses. the last thing you need right now is getting caught by a co-worker or a friend while trying to buy a new vibrator.

as soon as you step into the pharmacy, you slip the glasses down, shielding yourself from the fluorescent lights. you make a beeline to the hygiene aisle, darting past the tampons and adult diapers until you're at the correct section. you’re so horny and determined you can’t even care how crazy you look.

"okay," you sigh, peering through the options on the middle shelf in front of you. there's more options that you were expecting, and it's making your brain go a little fuzzy. it doesn't help that you can feel your arousal dripping down your inner thigh—but you digress.

you opt for a new version of what you already had, your nimble fingers grabbing it off the shelf and quickly tucking it against your chest. you let out a breath of what feels like relief, turning on your heels and walking out of the long aisle.

about a mater away, lingering at the end of aisle 8, thumbing through body wash, stands matt rempe. your steps falter, and your stomach swoops with something you can't decipher—whether it's excitement or nerves, you’re too shocked to tell. your face pales and flushes all at once, and the grip you have on the sex toy box tightens.

matt hasn't seen you, so before he has the chance to, you turn around and dart back into the aisle. you’re fumbling, bumping into the shelf of tylenol beside the pregnancy tests, and you curse as some of the medicine clatters and falls to the ground. you can feel him moving—your body igniting like a magnet.

"shit." you curse hurriedly, gathering the medicine off the floor and hazardly throwing the bottles back onto random shelves—you’re pretty sure one even ends up with the ultra thin condoms. out of the corner of your eye you see a large pair of sneakers walk by the aisle—matt walk by the aisle. you freeze, breathing catching and hands stilling on a bottle of extra strength.

but matt doesn't stop—oh fuck, never mind, he's doubled back. you've definitely been found, you think. you clear your throat in hopes to act natural, getting off your knees and placing another bottle of medicine back onto its proper shelf, attempting to appear small and nonexistent.

he slows to a stop right beside you, large frame towering over you and casting a shadow. but you don't look. instead you pretend to rifle through the shelves like you work there or something.

matt lets out a small breath of laughter, and the sound has your heart leaping. he reaches out towards you and plucks your sunglasses off your face. fuck, you think—he's got you know. slowly, your eyes flicker up to meet his familiar brown gaze. immediately your knees feel weak.

his lip quirks up in a smirk that makes you flush. "thought that was you." matt says casually, sliding the oversized glasses back into your hair, revealing even more of your blushed skin.

"it's me." you swallow.

you feel a bit dumbfounded. you can't decide if you want to turn heel and sprint out of the store, or sprint into matt rempe's arms. he looks so good, all cozy in a hoodie and matching sweats—light gray nonetheless. subconsciously your eyes trial down to matt's crotch, and yeah, you can see his dick print. your vagina clenches pathetically—it remembers the man in front of you all too well.

you tried so hard to get in contact with matt, hell you prayed for it. and now here he is, all 6 foot 9 inches of him. standing with you in front of the tylenol and condoms in a random new york drug store.

matt's smirk deepens, and a splash of pink dusts over his cheekbones. "it's you. hey." he's got one of the body washes in his hand, the same brand he'd been looking at when you spotted him—some old spice scent that probably smells like heaven. "how are you?"

it has you remembering what you've got in your arms, and your eyes widen comically. it’s no use because matt has already seen the vibrator, but he lets you panic anyways—smirk still on his face nonetheless—fumbling with the box until it's behind your back. "i'm okay."

he nods his head, amused. "I bet."

you blink, swallowing roughly as you tilt your neck back to look up at him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. you've spent so much time thinking about what you'd say to matt if you ever saw him again, and now he's here and your mind has gone blank. "I dmed you..." you start lightly, trailing off, taking a shaky breath. "on instagram. I didn't know your last name but my co-worker, dylan who's a total jerk by the way—he had highlight reels on and I saw you. on the ice. matt rempe."

you laugh breathily like you can't believe what's happening—because you truly can't believe what's happening. matt's heart flutters fondly at your rambling admission and the small laugh that bubbles from you. his brows shoot skyward in surprise.once he focuses on what you said, rather than how you looked when you said it. "wait, really?"

you nod pathetically.

he hums. "damn, I should check my messages more often, huh? i'm sorry, I had no fucking idea. If I did I would've..." matt trails off, tongue swiping along his bottom lip as his eyes dart over your face. slowly. your eyes are bright and lustful, cheeks pink with embarrassment and something else, and he can see your pale purple lace bra through your thin white tank top. "I would've answered."

your breath hitches, fingers tightening on the box still hidden behind your back. "oh."

he runs his free hand through his messy, damp hair. you wonder if he had an afternoon game today, and his hair is wet from his postgame shower. or maybe matt has started his shower at home and then was out of body wash—leaving him with no choice but to come here and get some. whatever it is, you're glad matt rempe is here.

and in some sick way, you're glad you decided to masturbate tonight, and even more so that your old, shitty vibrator died.

matt's smirk is back, and for a moment you’re back in that broken down elevator, starring at him through the haze of red light as he dares you to sit on his lap. matt’s eyes dart past your shoulder for a moment, "you need help with something?"

you just know he's referring to the sex toy you'd been trying to buy, and your skin burns so hot you feel like you could ignite in flames. hesitantly, and to honestly save yourself some dignity, you bring it back around to your front. you laugh dismissively, "it fell. actually, I was just putting it back." you shove the vibrator box between a rabbit toy and some lube.

matt's brows furrow, but his small amused grin doesn’t wavers. "no need to be embarrassed, y/n. i've been inside you, remember?"

you squawk like a parrot, looking around frantically to ensure nobody is in hearing distance. matt doesn't care though, and he picks the vibrator right back off the shelf and tucks it between his bicep and forearm.

"matt." you say, looking between his face and the sex toy nestled in his arm. "you really don't need to-"

"-I need to grab deodorant and some candy, come on." he interrupts, walking further down the aisle, vibrator in his grip. you blink once, then twice, and before you can register what you're doing, you're following him. matt slows his long strides as he hears your feet slapping against the tiles quickly to catch up, a fond grin on his soft face.

matt is itching to reach out and touch you in some way—he's missed you so much it's honestly embarrassing. you look so soft and warm, looking up at him all bright eyed and long lashes, following him blindly. matt has no excuse for being turned on…it’s simply just you that does it for him.

he comes to a stop in front of the deodorants, looking through the various brands. "so, were you just coming here to get this?" matt questions without looking at you, grabbing an irish spring aerosol. he smells it through the cap, and then puts it back.

"ummm, yeah." embarrassment is lacing your words, and you clear your throat once again. but matt doesn't seem bothered, picking up some name brand deodorant that apparently smells like fresh wood and the ocean.

"really? you loose your charger or something and have to buy a new one?" he asks, popping off the cap and taking a sniff. it actually smells like shit, not wood and ocean—matt puts the lid back on and slots it on the shelf.

"ummm, yeah." embarrassment is lacing your words, and you clear your throat once again. but matt doesn't seem bothered, picking up some name brand deodorant that apparently smells like fresh wood and the ocean.

"really? you loose your charger or something and have to buy a new one?" he asks, popping off the cap and taking a sniff. it actually smells like shit, not wood and ocean—matt puts the lid back on and slots it on the shelf.

the absurdity of it all makes you laugh gently. his seemingly casual demeanour is rubbing off on you, and although matt rempe is technically a stranger, he's also not. you run a hand through your hair, which is no doubt tangled from when you'd be rolling around in your bed trying to make yourself cum. "worse, actually."

"oh yeah?" he grins curiously.

you nod. "yeah, 30 minutes ago it literally broke down in the middle of using it. so here I am."

his eyes gloss over, and matt looks right at you, deodorant forgotten. "you were touching yourself 30 minutes ago?"

you nod again.

matt shudders out a breath, a small hushed curse following. his eyes quickly dart to your boobs because he can’t help himself, and then they travel further down, briefly landing on your covered pussy before he finds your face again. he can feel his dick twitch uncomfortably in his sweats. "you're killing me."

his admission is so quiet that you're not even sure if he meant to say it out loud. you swallow your anticipation, watching as matt hurriedly grabs an old spice deodorant without smelling it, adding it to the growing pile in his arm before looking back at you. "come back to my place, y/n."

your stomach swoops, and then a shaky please follows matt's words and you're nodding quickly—desperately. his grin widens, "okay, let's go. fuck the candy." and he's dead serious.

you giggle, and it has matt joining in. one of his large hands wraps around your waist, pulling you in front of his body as you begin to walk towards the checkout. "stay in front of me," matt mumbles, leaning down and brushing his lips against your ear. "i'm half hard and if you move everyone is going to know what’s going on.”

that gets you both moving, lining up in the check out lane to purchase the collection of items—and yes, matt buys you the vibrator. the teenage boy behind the cash eyes matt and the sex toy curiously, but matt doesn't seem bothered. if anything, he seems proud, wrapping his long arms around your waist and tugging you back against his semi.

matt's place is a bit farther than yours, and you know that because you could've walked to yours in the time it takes matt to drive to his. but you don't mind—how could you when the entire drive is filled with soft conversation, and matt's thumb rubbing your knee as he grips your thigh.

there's a unspoken tension on the ride up in the elevator that lingers between you and matthew, slinking between you both and reminding you of what happened last time you were in an elevator together. kissing, laughter, breathless moaning and lewd wet noises.

your vagina is fluttering again, and it doesn't help when matt steps closer to you, gently grabbing your face between his hands and tilting your head backwards—leaning down and kissing you.

his lips are as soft as you remember, and they work yours just the way you want them too. your body is falling apart in his hands, swaying into his chest and sighing into his mouth. as you attempt to deepen the kiss and swipe your tongue along his bottom lip, the elevator doors slide open.

matt snickers when you whine, hands sliding down your body until he's grabbing at your hips. "c'mon."

matt's place is actually really fucking clean. it's a typical new york apartment, all white and modern with crisp furniture and counters that look so expensive you're scared to not use a coaster. there's small touches of matt throughout the space though. a framed photo of what looks like his family on a kitchen shelf, as well as snacks not yet put away but instead, left on the counter. it's all mostly healthy shit that makes you pull a face.

there's a few loose throw blankets on the couch and a fake plant on the coffee table. there's spare hockey sticks in the corner of the room next to a tall lamp—although you're sure if matt stood next to it, it would look miniature. there's shoes by the door, and coats on the chair. it smells like hockey puck and cologne, and matt must've left the tv on before he left, because you can hear madagascar playing.

you've been gawking at his apartment long enough for matt to have already unpacked the drugstore bag—his deodorant, body wash and your fucking vibrator lined up on his counter.

he grins, balling up the fabric tote bag and shoving it in the cupboard beside the fridge. matt's dark eyes flicker to your form, still standing in the threshold between the kitchen and living space. "you look pretty in my apartment."

his voice has you blinking out of your unapologetic stare, looking over just as matt grabs your waist, gently bringing you into the kitchen and up against his torso. "just in your apartment?" you tease—you're too horny and too touch deprived to feel embarrassed any longer.

"everywhere." matt corrects himself, his words whispered in the minimal space left between you. his large hands slide down and over your ass, giving the flesh a firm squeeze before he's lifting you off the floor and sitting you down on the counter.

your breath hitches in surprise, but soon enough you feel yourself stop breathing completely—because now you're at the perfect level to be in proper eye contact with matt. instinctively your hands slide up his shoulders before wrapping your arms around his neck, holding him close. matt's eyes flicker down to your lips, and then in a blink he's kissing you again.

this kiss is slower and more messy than the chaste, hurried one in the elevator. it's like matt's taking his time with you, his hands alternating between sweeping up and down your spine and squeezing the flesh of your ass, each time pulling you closer to the edge of the countertop—closer to him.

you moan pathetically into the kiss, fingers carding through matt's hair and squeezing the roots firmly.

reluctantly, matt pulls away from the kiss, his lips all swollen and slick. you chase his mouth desperately, but he doesn't give in. matt sighs, the sound shaky and desperate as he takes his hand off your ass—instead placing it flat on the counter just next to your hips.

"matt," you pout, eyes flickering to his in a way that has his cock hardening. "please."

you don't have to say what you're begging for, because matt knows exactly what you want. he wants it to—he wants your warm, sweet walls squeezing around his length the same way they did a month ago. but he also wants you in every other way, not just sexual—which is a surprise to him too, trust me. "I know." he says, pecking the corner of your mouth quickly.

matt watches as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, only to snap back open when he pulls away. he continues, "but I missed you too much, and i'm fucking starving."

"what?" you blink.

quickly, matt's eyes darken until they're almost black. he reaches up to your face, taking your sunglasses off your head and placing them on the counter—next to a fruit bowl that's only full of bananas and oranges. your hair falls in your face, but matt tucks it behind your ear before you get the chance. his hand lingers on your face when he says, "first we're going to eat, maybe watch a movie and then im going to take this new vibrator and hold it against your pretty pussy until you cum. understand?"

your mouth falls open in what can only be shock. you nod dumbly, speechless as you digest matt's dirty words—anticipation bubbling low in your belly.

he kisses your cheek and then completely pulls away from you, turning around and opening the fridge. "what do you want to eat? i've got stuff to make pasta if you want that."

you're gripping the edge of the counter so hard that you're knuckles are turning white, looking at matt's back as he stifles through his fridge. you blink again, still feeling the aftershocks of the shock that you have from matt's filthy promise. "what?" you finally speak.

it makes matt pause, looking back at you over his broad shoulder. your expression has him flattering, "are you okay?"

your brows furrow. "am I okay? no, i'm so wet it’s not even funny. god, you've turned me into a slut, matt. i'm fucking banging one out every night because of you and what you did to me in that elevator....and you want to cook for me? also yeah, I love pasta."

his lips tug in a smile at your pathetic, whiny tone. you're not actually mad, that much is seeable. sure, you're confused and so horny it's not even laughable, but matt wanting to cook for you....it just turns you on even further. there was a part of you that was worried he'd only want sex again, and as much as you hated to admit that, it would've crushed you.

you'd never had more fun or felt more comfortable than you had with matt in that broken down elevator. when you ran into him again tonight, all those feelings came rushing back, and if he only wanted to fuck you and kick you out, you don't think you would've recovered.

but here he is, all tall and handsome with ground beef in his hand, looking at you softly with an amused smirk. "I haven't seen you in a month and I didn't think i'd ever see you again. so yeah, I wanna talk for a bit before I get you naked, y/n. I missed your voice and snarky comments too much."

you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. his words providing the relief and conformation you were hoping for. "I missed your voice too."

matt smiles then, a real smile that you can't help but mimic. he nods once, almost shyly, and tosses the ground beef on the counter—a firm smack echoing throughout the kitchen knook. "get over here so I can feel you up while I start this meat."

you laugh and slip of the counter, pushing yourself next to matt and begin help him start making dinner. and like promised, matt smacks your ass appreciatively. 

you hadn't realized how hungry you'd become until the smell of seasoned meat sauce hits your senses. when you got home from work you hadn't even eaten anything, too pent up with sexual frustration to do anything but strip your pants off and get to business.

you're stirring the curly noodles in the boiling water when matt's soft voice filters through the kitchen. "you know after you and I were rescued in that elevator…I realized I forgot to ask for you number when I was halfway home—I made my cab driver turn aorund and take me back. there was a part of me that was hoping you were still there for whatever reason, but you weren't. I was so mad at myself."

you frown gently, looking up at matt. his brows are furrowed as he drags a wooden spatula through the sauce, still bubbling on the stove next to you. you clear your throat, "I remembered when I got in bed that night, and I was so angry at myself for forgetting. I thought id never see you again—but when I saw you on tv, all sexy and famous, I had a feeling that I'd run into you again. somewhere...somehow."

he meets your eyes, and in the most deadpanned voice he mumbles, "i'm so glad I was out of body wash." you smile, and matt presses a loud kiss to your temple, making your grin grow.

once dinner is finished and plated, matt chooses to sit next to rather than across, and that really shouldn't melt your heart as much as it does. light conversation and flirtatious glances are exchanged between chews and swallows, making the coil in your stomach clench and throb pathetically.

matt begins talking about his last game, and about the fight he'd been in—which explains the small split on his eyebrow that you noticed when you were sitting on the counter top. it makes you think back to when you first saw matt on your collages computer screen. you finish your bite of pasta, "my co-workers called you a savage."

he snickers, eyes twinkling with amusement as he swallows his mouthful of food. "did you tell them that you know me?"

"no." you breathe a laugh, stabbing some noodles onto your fork. "then i'd have to tell them how I know you." matt's brows quirk in further curiosity while you take the pasta off the utensil, chewing it quickly before continuing. "my one co-worker, the one I mentioned earlier, he has some weird hard on for me, so I don't think he'd appreciate me talking about his favourite athlete pounding my shit."

it doesn't make matt laugh like you expected. instead his gaze hardens and jaw ticks as he looks at you. "want me to punch him in the face? because I will." it's only after he says it, does matt allow his lips to slide upwards into a grin.

you snort, rolling your eyes with a fond smile. "no, matt oh my god. you're crazy."

he shrugs, taking another bite of food. "for you." matt mutters through a mouthful of curly saucy noodles, waggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

you look away. "cheesy."

"but true."

"but cheesy." you reiterate softly, gaze flickering back to matt's.

he breathes and lets a beat pass. "...yeah." and when matt's eyes flicker down to your mouth and his hand runs up your leg, your face falls—looking at matt with a soft, yet hopeful expression. your own eyes fall down to matt's lips, watching his tongue slide along his bottom lip to moisten the plump skin. you blink and he's leaning in—slowly—to not startle you.

you put down your fork, the sound a small clink against the ceramic plate—echoing in your ears. matt had already put down his utensil, you note, because both hands are on your face in an instant. despite his grip on you, he doesn't bring you in for a kiss, but rather meets your mouth exactly where it is.

he taste like pasta and the strawberries he'd been sneaking when you were making dinner—and you taste the same, because he'd been feeding you the fruit like some kind of hallmark boyfriend. you moan into his mouth, and matt's long fingers slide through your hair smoothly, eliciting another breathy sigh from you.

you've turned into complete pudding, and he knows it too. the way you let matt move your face and touch your body—the sighs and groans passing through your mouth—they're all tell tale signs. an after dinner movie is long forgotten as matt lifts you up and off the small kitchen chair, back into his strong arms. your thighs tighten around his torso, and your arms wrap further around his neck as matt brings you back to the kitchen counter-top, sitting you on the surface like he did almost an hour ago.

the kiss never stops, and if anything it deepens. there's more heart and passion in this kiss—you need him and he needs you, and your mouths are doing a good job at telling that.

"what were you thinking about? when you were touching yourself?" matt barley pulls back from the kiss as he asks, lips brushing over yours slipperily.

you moan loudly, too loudly for simply just dry humping and dirty questions. "you." you admit breathlessly, your control and filter out the window. "was thinking about you."

matt doesn't answer, but instead leans back in and resumes the kiss. this time it's more messy and hurried—clashing teeth and tongues like they're in competition. his hands slide down your back, pass the elastic waistband of your sweats and over your ass.

matt groans when he realizes you're not wearing panties and that it's only your smooth, soft skin under his calloused palms. he squeezes your ass firmly, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter. "lift your hips."

you do without question, and matt takes the opportunity to pull your sweat pants down, all the way down your thighs, past your knees and over your ankles. matt's jaw goes slack at the sight of your bare, glistening pussy—the pussy he hasn't stopped thinking about for a month.

you're so wet it's not even funny. you can't help it, you've been turned on since before you got home from work—an interrupted solo sesh combined with matt's filthy words and kisses have you feeling on the verge of combustion.

his eyes finds yours again. "you're so fucking beautiful." he spreads your legs further apart with his hands, manoeuvring your limbs until you're perfectly exposed and positioned—exactly how matt wants you. the counter is cold under your feet and ass, but you don't care. all you can focus on is matt as he reaches behind you, grabbing the vibrator box and ripping it open.

your breath hitches and matt smirks. you swallow roughly, walls fluttering around nothing as his long fingers pull the toy out of the plastic holder. "matt...please, I need it so bad."

"take your shirt off." matt demands, ignoring your whiny pleas and pouty lips. he watches through hooded lids, toying with the bullet between his fingers as you lift your tank top off, revealing the pale purple lace bra he'd seen peeking through your shirt earlier. he falters slightly, groaning at the sight of your nipples pebbled under the lace. "I thought the animal print bra killed me...but this one? fuck."

your hips jerk, buts matt's quicker, pushing you back to the counter with one hand—while the other flicks the vibrator to life. the sound of rhythmic buzzing fills the room, and your pussy recognizes the sound and begins fucking dripping. "tell me you want it."

this matt is different from the one in the elevator. he's more sure—more dominant. and maybe it's because you're too wound up to form proper sentences, but unlike the time in the elevator, you're speechless. no quips or remarks, only pure burning need. you're submitting, and it's so hot.

you nod dumbly, pushing up onto the tips of your fingers so you can nudge your nose along matt's. he presses a chaste kiss to your puffy lips simply because he can't help it, and then he smirks when it makes you whine.

"I want it." you mumble, "I want you to touch me. with the vibrator...push it through my folds and hold it on my—oh fuck." you're interrupted as matt does exactly what you need, running the expanse of the toy up your slippery lips and finding your puffy, needy clit.

you mewl loudly, arms giving out underneath you and leaving you no choice but to fall back on your elbows.

"that's it, fuck, that's my girl." matt praises softly, running the vibrator up and down your folds. the feeling is heavenly, leaving your walls clamping and fluttering as your juices spill out your entrance.

"matt." you say his name helplessly. you're close, and you've been close for hours.

he hums, licking his lips. "I know baby, let me just have a taste." matt doesn't wait for your response before he’s dropping down to his knee. he keeps the vibrator solely on your throbbing clit, and like the kind, sweet, perfect man he is, thrusts his tongue into your entrance.

you moan loudly. "oh my god! don't stop."

and he couldn't even if he wanted to. you taste delicious, and matt's lapping at your juices like he can't get enough. the way he's got you spread open with his free hand on your inner thigh, combined with the vibrations on your clit and the feeling of his smooth tongue dipping in and out of your hole has you snapping.

"i'm cumming." you moan, your body tensing as your orgasm flushes through your nerves and muscles. matt doesn't slow his pace, fucking you through the high of your climax like a starved man.

you sigh loudly, falling back against the counter top as your body goes limp. it's only then that matt takes the vibrator off your clit, his tongue slowing in thrusts as your walls clamping dies down. he kneads and squeezes your thighs comfortingly, hushed praises falling from his slack jaw as you come back to reality.

"you okay?" matt questions softly, rising back to his full height. he helps you sit back up, and your arousal is cold against your skin—but your body is still hot and desperate for more.

you nod quickly, hands dipping beneath the hem of matt's shirt and feeling up his abs. his muscles contract and jump under your touch, and when you pass over his pecks—graze his nipples—he curses lowly. "I wanna suck your cock, matty."

one hand drops down, brushing over his hardening length beneath his gray sweats. matt's lashes flutter against his cheeks, a rough groan vibrating through his chest. "oh fuck—another time baby, I need to feel your pussy."

and who are you to object that?

matt's grabbing you again, wrapping you around his torso like you’re a koala and blindly walking you over to the sofa. you giggle happily into his warm neck, pressing a few lingering kisses against his pulse point that make his dick twitch—poking your ass.

he sits down with you on his lap, and matt is instantly attaching his lips to your jaw—kissing, nipping and sucking along you skin. automatically your head tilts, giving him the access he needs to continue a path down your neck. his hands are all over you—grabbing the meat of your ass, squeezing your waist and brushing your tits.

you're grinding against his clothed core pathetically, soaking his sweatpants like you're in heat. "you're wearing too many clothes," you breathe, already tugging on the hem of matt's hoodie. he leans back, watching with a soft smile and lazy eyes. he nods leisurely and you pull off his hoodie, revealing the expanse of soft, smooth skin and muscles that is matt rempe's torso.

you grin happily, squeezing his biceps and then his shoulders. you take your lip into your mouth, shamelessly letting your eyes wander his body. it's makes matt chuckle lowly, "forgot what I looked like?" he teases, brushing your wild hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ears.

you shake your head. "mhmm, could never forget." you lick your bottom lip, meeting matt's eyes. "was just admiring."

matt's pupils dilate and then his gaze turns dark. he leans into you, kissing you roughly, one of his large hands sprawled across your neck. you didn't think that any kiss would ever beat the ones matt gave you in that broken down elevator, but here he is now, outdoing himself.

"what do you want?" matt asks you, licking into your mouth once more before you can answer.

"what do you want?" you parrot, pushing your needy core down against his.

he groans loudly, slapping your ass quickly—so quickly you don't even have time to react properly before he's speaking again. "no, it doesn't matter what I want right now. i've been replaying everything you said in that elevator for a month. every. single. thing. fuck, you've been making me hard for a damn month without even being here. I've been dreaming of pleasing you...touching you. so once again, what do you want, y/n?"

your heart jumps, and your hips still against his momentarily. you think matt must be trying to kill you with words, because it feels like you're about to die. he says your name again, spoke quietly into your neck as he licks a strip up your skin. you gasp, hands flying to matt's hair.

you're breathless and fidgety, but still you manage to say — "I want to ride you." he curses shakily, and he thrusts his hips upwards, sending you crashing into his chest. you laugh, wrapping around matt like its second nature as he uses the leverage to pull his sweats and boxers down to rest just above his knees.

as soon as matt sits back down against the cushions, you're moving, reaching behind yourself and sliding your hand down matt's hard, warm length. you feel the two prominent veins against your palm, teasing you more than they have in the past month. you both sigh at the feeling of you slowly jerking his cock in your hand, teasing his throbbing slit with a swipe of your thumb.

matt tugs your bra down, revealing your heavy chest. "missed these." he says, already fondling your boobs with his hands, attaching his mouth to one puffy nipple. your body rolls instinctively, and matt's cock nestles hot and heavy between your ass cheeks.

"yeah?" you question knowingly—teasingly—lifting your hips just enough to guide the head of matt's cock close to your entrance. you're dripping again, so wet that it feels impossible to even breathe.

matter releases your nipple with one more sloppy kiss. "fuck yeah." his hands find your hips, lifting you higher to allow his dick to perfectly prod your hole. your breath hitches, hands falling to matt's broad shoulders to steady your legs—which have already started to tremble.

the head of his tip slips inside you comfortably, and your walls begin clamping in an attempt to suck him in deeper. you whine, trying to grind down, but matt's hands tighten on your hips—stopping you. "go slow, baby. you're shaking."

"shaking with need." you retort playfully. yet you're out of breath, small hands digging into matt’s trapezius muscle as you attempt to calm your eager, adrenaline filled body.

he gives you a teasing but knowing glance before he's helping you onto his length. slowly and inch by inch he fills your needy pussy, stretching you like putty. he's more endowed than you remember—thicker and longer. you gasp, stilling halfway down his length. "you're so big. I don't know if it'll fit."

matt pouts, although you're pretty sure it's condescending. his hands squeeze the meat of your hips again, a momentary distraction from the fullness between your legs. "it fit before baby, you can do it."

you mewl like a cat at his words. this time matt lets you sink down the rest of the way, going at your own pace as you take the rest of his length. he shutters, "that's my girl." then presses a kiss to your shoulder.

you've completely taken him, clit hitting matt's pelvic bone as your walls reach the base of his cock. matt's balls twitch against you, and you've never felt more stuffed in your life. "oh my god I think I can feel you in my stomach."

matt moans, fingers flexing on your body. "yeah? shit baby."

you sigh dreamily, and slowly begin lifting back off his member, rising only half way before sinking back down. matt curses, hands firmly sliding down to your ass and giving it one quick smack. you whine, picking up the speed of your movements just enough to have your toes clenching.

"just like that." he mutters, leaning in and sucking the pulse point on your neck. his nose nudges your skin, and he inhales, moaning at your sickly sweet scent. "you smell so good." matt grunts, nipping your skin—it stings but it's also delicious.

"today, before I even saw you, I knew you were there. I could smell your fucking perfume—that floral scent i've been longing for."

you moan, picking up your speed further. "oh my god!" your legs are starting to burn, and they've begun to shake more intensely. it has your movements faltering slightly, quick bursts of air leaving you as you try and control your breathing.

you go for another minute, desperate to try and reach your climax. your fingers dig into matt's chest and arms hard, leaving small crescent moon indents along his skin. your pout comes in full force, a tired and disappointed cry leaving your parted lips. “I can't-ugh, I can't do it."

matt knew it was only a matter of time before you became exhausted, and he's honestly surprised you lasted the 5 minutes you did. he can feel your walls squeezing and fluttering around his painfully hard cock—a sign that you're close.

he coos, scooping around the backs of your thighs so you're completely held up by his hands. "you tired baby?"

"mhmm." you whine, tears beginning to prick the edges of your eyes. you're so frustrated and horny, and all you've been thinking about for the past month is jumping on matt rempe's cock, and you're too fucking weak to do it.

reassuringly, matt kisses you—firm and sweet. "that's okay, baby. I'll help you." with that, he begins moving you on his cock, slowly at first. "you've been such a good girl, y/n—fuck." soon enough you're back at the perfect rhythm, matt's cock hitting the spongy spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back.

the springs in the couch are squeaking relentlessly as matt thrusts up into you, making everything feel that much more erotic and satisfying. you slump against matt's chest, "oh my—yes." the coil in your stomach is on the verge of snapping, and matt can feel it. the way you're nothing but a whining, borderline sobbing mess—walls squeezing him rhythmically.

"you feel so fucking perfect." he grunts, thrusts increasing to an unfathomable speed as his own release approaches. one of his hands leaves your leg and comes around to your front, swiping along your neglected clit. "my little slut to ruin."

"oh shit." you shout, body freezing as your orgasm hits you at full force. the feeling of your body cumming around matt's length as him reaching his own peak, and he pulls from your warm, gooey walls. he pumps his dick three times before his load spews over your stomach, painting your skin with his cum—all while his other hand rubs your clit softly as you come down from your high.

matt's moans are like music to your ears—little breathless gasps and deep rumbling groans in his chest.your take your bottom lip between your teeth, looking down at the mess sprayed over your belly. before you can decide against it, two of your small fingers swipe over the cum, collecting it on your digits before bringing them up to your mouth and sucking it clean off.

matt watches the entire thing, breathless and jaw slack. you smirk around your fingers as his lip begins quirking up, and before you can blink, matt pulls your hand away from your mouth and kisses you.

you giggle into it, wrapping your arms around matt's neck as his lips caress yours. his hands slide up your back tenderly, pressing against your spine firmly and rhythmically—hitting your pressure points and making you melt.

his fingers slide up the base of your neck and into your hair, threading your locks through his fingers and giving them a firm tug. for a moment you're back in the elevator, matt untangling rings from your messy hair. who would've thought it would've lead to the best sex of your life.

matt smiles against your mouth before pulling away. "i'm getting your number this time." his voice and face is full of determination and love. he grabs your hand and kisses the back of it, eyes never leaving yours.

"I'd hope so." you grin.

and when matt guides you into the shower, where you blow him and then he takes you from behind—treating you to another orgasm, you don't think you ever want to leave.

[thedreamingdevil]

Trapped And Tied

Kim Bora/SuA × Male Reader

Trigger Warning: Rape

No Tags, Proceed At Your Own Risk

4,541 Words

You're standing in the crowded Town Hall, surrounded by cheesy decorations and fake Christmas cheer, when you spot her - SuA, the K-pop idol dressed up as a slutty Santa. She's rocking a skimpy red top that barely contains her tits, a short red skirt that's giving you a glimpse of her thick thighs, and a pair of white high boots that are making her look like a freaking sex doll.

She's joking around with the other attendees, calling herself "Suanta" and laughing like she's the queen of Christmas. Staring at her, your eyes fixed on her curvy small body and those juicy thighs. You've always had a thing for beautiful older women, and SuA is like the ultimate mommy fantasy come true.

As you're admiring her from afar, you notice her excusing herself and heading to the backroom to grab some supplies for the donation segment. Your eyes follow her and you can't resist the urge to sneak after her. You make your way through the crowd, your heart racing, and slip into the backroom just as she's bending down to grab some boxes.

"Hello there, Mommy Santa," you say, your voice low as you approach her from behind. SuA turns around, a look of surprise on her face, and that's when you use your chance. You lunge at her, your hands wrapping around her neck like a vice. "You're so hot, Suanta," you mock as you start to choke her.

SuA's eyes widen in shock, and she tries to struggle, but you're too strong. You squeeze tighter, feeling her warm breath on your face, and watch as her face starts to turn blue. "Mommy's going to pass out?" Her eyes roll back, and she goes limp in your arms.

You feel a rush of excitement as you smash the back of her head against the wall, the sound of the impact making your cock harder. You punch her in the kidney, just for good measure. "You're so weak," you sneer, feeling her body weaken even more.

When she loses consciousness, you quickly scan the room, looking for something to restrain her with. That's when you spot the wires lying around on the shelf. You grab them and start to tie up her limbs, pulling them tight around the metal rack. SuA's meaty thighs are pulled up by the wires, spread wide, making your mouth water.

"You're all mine now," you whisper, as you step back to admire your handiwork. SuA's body is completely at your mercy tied against the rack.

You're staring at SuA's squished pussy, your eyes glued to the spot where her safety shorts are squeezed between her slit. You're so hard it hurts, and you need to get your cock out - now. You unzip your jeans and pull your dick out through the zipper, feeling a rush of relief as it springs free.

"Ah, that's better," you mutter, giving your cock a few lazy strokes.

First things first, you take her boots off, leaving those sexy stockings on. You love the way they look on her calves, all tight and shiny. Next, you rip her skirt in half and yank it off her hips. “Mommy's got some nice undies on," you say, licking your lips.

But you're saving her pussy for last, so the next piece to go is her top. You tear and pull it off, leaving her in a lacy black bra, and step closer to fondle her tits. You sigh, salivating at their softness. With a tug, her bra is discarded, and her tits bounce free, dark brown nipples stiffening in the cold air.

Your hand slides down to her waist, and you hook two fingers inside the waistband of her shorts, tearing the fabric in half. "Oh, fucking hell," you mutter when you finally see her bare pussy, a thin layer of trimmed hair decorating her pubic mound, a pink bud peeking out.

You slowly stroke your swollen cock, admiring her hot body, and let out a low whistle, your eyes fixed on her cunt. One free hand lashes out, slapping one of her boobs, leaving a red handprint. SuA whimpers, but she's still out cold. Not satisfied with just that, you slap her other boob, making it jiggle.

Your hand slid lower to her tummy before reaching her pussy. Two of your fingers dip between her slit, rubbing until you can feel the wetness she produces. "Let's test how much of a slut our Santa is," you say, looking at her unconscious face and hungrily staring at her pussy.

You deliberately push your middle finger in, feeling the soft, warm wetness of her insides, and no blockage at all. You bury your finger deep until your palm smacks her crotch, and her body reacts, her thighs toning up and her toes wriggling.

You pump your finger in and out, while slapping her face repeatedly, asking her to wake up. "It's time to wake up and play with my cock," your voice rising in excitement. SuA's still out cold, but you don't care - you're too busy enjoying her body, and you're just getting started.

You're finger-fucking SuA's pussy faster, causing it to get wetter, making a squelching sound as your fingers slide in and out. Her head falls forward, her long dark hair sticking to her beautiful face.

She's gradually regaining consciousness, whimpering as her hands and legs strain against the tight wire. You squeeze her boob with your free hand, pulling her back to her senses quicker by the pinching pain.

As she becomes fully conscious, she feels your fingers moving inside her private area, and her eyes widen in horror. "Yah, what the fuck are you doing?!" she screams, trying to struggle against the wires. "Ugh! Let me go! Unnie! Somebody help—"

She starts screaming for help, calling her manager but you're not having it. You punch her stomach, making her gasp harshly. "Don't be too loud," you tell her firmly. "You love this, or you wouldn't be getting this wet, right?”

You pull your fingers out of her slick pussy and shove them inside her mouth, pressing your body against her. The underside of your rock-hard cock pressed between her inner lips, making her eyes go wide.

Your fingers poke her throat, causing her to gag, her eyes watering. "Uweghhh— ughhh… uweghhh," she's trying to push your fingers out of her mouth using her tongue but you keep pressing down on the back of her tongue, triggering her gag reflex.

With your fingers still in her mouth, you grab her lower jaw with your thumb, lifting her face to look at you. "This is what you get for being such a cockteasing slut,” your tone dripping with malice. "You get an unwanted dick in your pussy."

SuA's eyes are filled with tears, but you just laugh, your other hand lining up your cockhead with her entrance. She struggles, her body arching back in a futile attempt to move away from you. Her head is shaken frantically, tears streaming down her cheeks like a river of despair.

Your hips move forward, breaching her tight entrance with the thick tip of your cock, and you hiss on her face, "Scream all you want, but you're not going to be saved. Be grateful that it's not some stinky old men raping your holes.”

The sound of your cock sliding into her silk-like pussy is music to your ears, a wet slapping noise that echoes through the room, accompanied by SuA's gagging. Your cock is buried deep inside her, the velvety insides of her pussy wrapping around your shaft, making you curse in sheer pleasure.

You look down at the sight of your cock disappearing into her cunt, and your hand inside her mouth presses her head against the metal rack, making her gag and drool even more. SuA's body is jerking and convulsing, she sobs and groans.

Her brain is reeling from the shock of being raped by a stranger, and it's putting a lot of heavy pressure on her mind. But you don't care - you're too high enjoying the tightness of her pussy, the way it's wrapping around your cock like a warm, wet glove.

Pulling back, enjoying every friction, you snap your hips upward into SuA's now wetter pussy, again, then again, and again. Every deeper thrust slams her sweaty back against the rack, making the metal creak in protest, while your balls smack her asshole, slick with the fluid produced by her pussy.

Her slit wraps tight around your thick girth like a rubber. "Oh, fuck… This is a delicious pussy as expected of Queen SuA." SuA's response is another retching, so you remove your fingers from her tongue. She coughs, her body shaking. The sound of your cock slamming into her pussy is getting louder, more intense, and your climax building up.

Your hand, wet with her saliva, grabs onto her boob as a handle, and you pound her harder, jolting her body up and down. "Fuck, you're going to make me cum so much." You look down, gripping her already reddened thigh tighter, leaving a bruise, and order her, "Tell me you want my cum. Say it."

SuA bites back a moan, her eyes flashing with defiance. “You… ughh— a piece of shit… go kill yourself,” she strains her voice out, before spitting on your face.

But you just laugh; a cold, mirthless sound, and choke her hard, making her involuntarily clench her pussy, giving more pleasure. "We could've ended this sooner, but you decided to be a lying bitch, huh?" you say, your brain is conjuring more wicked things to do to her.

You ignore those evil thoughts for now, losing yourself in the incredible sensations of SuA's tight pussy squeezing your cock, even as you choke her mercilessly. Her velvety walls hug you so snugly, almost as if she doesn't want to let you go, desperate to milk you for everything you've got.

Gritting your teeth, you plunge into her over and over, the wet squelching noises drowning out her strangled wheezes for air. Each time you pull out, globs of her arousal cling to your shaft before you slam back in, stuffing her full again.

You groan as her inner muscles ripple around you, coaxing you closer to the edge. Your balls draw up tight, the pressure inside your stomach reaching an unbearable peak as you rut into her faster, deeper, harder. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her throat and thigh, no doubt leaving bruises.

You can hold back no longer. With a bestial snarl, you yank her onto your cock to the hilt and explode, painting her unprotected insides with thick ropes of cum.

SuA's eyes roll back, her mouth gaping open in a silent despair as your potent seed floods her helpless womb. You keep pumping your hips, pumping her full for nearly a whole minute until you're spent. Panting, you watch the excess semen oozing out around your still-buried cock, dribbling down.

When you look up, her face is ashen, her body stiff as a board. The thin wires cut into her sensitive skin as her chest heaves in desperate gasps. "Oh, you want to breathe?" You taunt with a cruel smirk. "Maybe I should just finish the job, huh?"

You lean down, dragging your tongue through the tears and snot streaking her face. Her lips are slack, saliva drooling from the corner of her mouth. Your tongue slips inside, slurping, lapping up the moisture before sucking her tongue. Her eyes are vacant by the time you pull back.

Just as her pupils disappear, you release your grip on her neck. There's a loud, painful whoosh as SuA drags in a shuddering breath. You scoff and pull your softening dick out of her well-used cunt with a wet pop. A river of cum pours out, pooling on the floor between her splayed legs. She looks utterly wrecked, a mess of your making.

You stand back and admire your handiwork, phone in hand snapping photos of SuA's battered, ravaged body splayed out before you. Bruises and sweats smear her skin, her clothes torn to shreds.

The idol's head lifts weakly, glassy eyes meeting yours as she mumbles through split lips, "You've had your fun, you got what you wanted. Please, just let me go..."

SMACK! Your palm cracks across her face hard enough to snap her head to the side. "Oh no, we've barely gotten started," you laugh, delivering another slap to her other cheek. You set your phone down on a crate nearby.

Turning to the door, you casually shrug off your jacket, sauntering over and grab a crowbar. Jamming it between the door handles, you wrap a heavy chain around and lock it tight, sealing you both in.

"Let's play a game," you propose, voice dripping with sadistic glee. "As long as no one finds you, I won't stop even if you're dead meat. So you better pray real hard that someone discovers your ass soon.”

SuA begins thrashing against her bonds, her struggles only fueling your twisted lust further. You drink in the sight of her naked, sweaty body, helpless and vulnerable, all yours to utterly ruin. Striding back over, you slide your jeans down, freeing your glistening, rock-hard cock.

The idol's eyes go wide as saucers, breaths coming fast and panicked. "What more do you want from me!? This isn't right!" she sobs hysterically, tears carving tracks through the grime on her face. "Please, just let me go! Why are you doing this to me?!"

You throw your head back and laugh at her desperation. "C'mon, you know damn well that body of yours is too fucking hot," you mock, reaching down to grab your shaft. "It's a sin not to utterly destroy a piece of ass like you; to ruin you until you can't take anymore."

"NO! I'm not!" she screams, voice rising in pitch. "I'm only doing my job! Fanservice, p-pleasing the fans!"

"Then think of this as extra credit," you shrug with a cruel smirk. "A bit of hardcore service, just for me." You walk over to the table laden with chemicals - bleach, soap, and more.

SuA shrieks at you, "You're raping me! Assaulting me! This isn't fanservice, you're sick! Stop!"

"I love listening to your scream," you coo, grabbing the bleach and duct tape. "But can't risk you alerting the whole building though. Wouldn't want you to have a bunch of audience for this."

She begins cursing you out, still struggling futilely. You pinch her nipple hard, pulling her breast taut until she cries. "Shut the fuck up." Not wasting the opportunity, you shove the bleach bottle between her slack lips, horizontally towards her throat.

SuA's eyes blow wide with terror. "Exercise that throat or you will choke to death. Let's see what other talents that mouth has."

You force that bleach bottle deeper down SuA's throat. Her eyes go wide with shock and pain. She gags and chokes around the bulbous object stretching her tight esophagus, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her jaw aches from being forced open so wide. You grip her hair tight, holding her head in place as you give the end of the bottle a harsh smack with your palm.

"Glurk...cckk...gahh!" SuA retches violently, drool splattering out the corners of her stretched lips. The thick bottle is lodged deep but a few inches still protrude from her mouth. You wrap duct tape around her head, sealing it in place and tugging sharply on her hair as you press the adhesive to her skin.

She wheezes for air as you trace a finger along the shape of the bottle's outline, feeling it press against her flesh from the inside of her neck. Another groan escapes her as you punch her stomach, adding to her misery. Then your fist collides with her pussy, the brutal impact making her jerk.

"Ooohhgg—” The painful cry is muffled by the bottle gagging her. Her saliva drips steadily from the corners of her mouth to splatter on the floor. You palm your cock as you admire her utterly wrecked form, trembling and helpless in her bonds. Aiming a sly grin at her pleading eyes, you free one of her legs, allowing it to thrash weakly.

"Hahh...ngghh..." She groans and tries to kick you but you easily catch her knee, pinning it high. "Still got some fight in you, huh? Let's put it to better use."

Her other leg joins the first and she immediately drops onto your hard cock, the thick head spearing into her cunt. "Hnngh! Oooohh!" She wails around the bottle, tender pussy clamping down on the intrusion. You hoist her up and slam her down repeatedly, spearing into her battered hole over and over. Her legs quake and thighs clench as you rail her deep.

SuA's muffled cries and gurgles fill the room as you pound her pussy upward. Her nose runs, snot dripping over her chin. Drool pours from down her neck as she quivers on your pistoning cock. You huff with the force of your thrusts, tightening your grip on her legs. Her cervix takes a ruthless pummeling as you impale her again and again, her body jolting with each impact of your balls against her ass.

SuA sobs brokenly, pussy clenching down as her orgasm crashes through her. Her muscles lock up. You bury yourself to the hilt one final time and explode, flooding her abused hole with your hot seed. She can only writhe as your cum gushes into her spasming pussy.

When you finally pull out, jizz and cum drips from her gaping fuckhole. SuA whimpers and mewls around her gag, snot bubbles popping on her upper lip. Her eyes go glazed. You ruined her up good. She's irrevocably broken. Her career and future, all gone.

So you're just standing there, catching your breath, totally buzzed from busting so many nuts inside this legit idol. Like, who saw that coming? It’s so wild and terrific you’re not even thinking about the shitstorm that’s going to rain down later.

You look down and SuA's legs are practically tap-dancing on their tiptoes, all shaky, with your jizz still oozing out of her sopping, pink slit. Her head’s just hanging there, all limp, and she’s drooling a cocktail of spit and snot all over her heaving boobs.

Both of you are drenched in sweat, glistening like you just ran a marathon. She’s a total mess, a beautiful, broken mess. But honestly? It’s not quite enough, is it? That wicked itch is still there, even though your dick feels like a deflated balloon for now.

You grab her chin and tilt her face up, then whack her cheek hard. She gasps, her throat making these weird noises around the bottle jammed in her mouth. "Nobody's found us yet, so how about we play some more?”

Extreme and nasty descriptions ahead. If any reader is not into that type of thing, feel free to skip ahead and pretend the fanfic ended above.

She just shakes her head slowly, her eyes barely open, like she's watching you through a fog. Her legs are going through the motions of walking, but she's stuck, just making her look even more pathetic. You rummage through these boxes next to the rack she's tied to and pull out this rusty-looking steel eye hook.

The tip's kinda dull, but the rest of it seems alright. You hold it up, your eyes meeting her wide, terrified ones. You grin. "So, how deep do you think you can take this up your ass?" you ask, your voice all casual. She can’t even scream properly anymore, just watching you come closer. "I mean," you continue, "you love showing off that ass, right? You must be a pro at gaping it."

You drop the hook for a sec and grab a coil of wire. You yank her ankles up to her shoulders and tie them to the rack poles right next to her head. She's folded in half like a pretzel, practically offering her tiny, pale asshole on a silver platter. "As expected. Got to rip that hole open first so my dick can actually fit."

It's hard to tell if she’s crying, screaming, or begging – it all sounds like muffled groans. You pick up the hook again, teasingly dragging it across her soaked pussy, coating the dull metal in your combined fluids. Then you slide it towards her asshole. This thing is as thick as your wrist. SuA’s straining against the wires with everything she has, but all that does is clench her ass tighter.

The steel tip of the hook presses against her tight anus, a stubborn resistance meeting your insistent push, her body going rigid. Her muscles clench, an involuntary defense against the impending violation. You can hear her rapid, muffled breaths, feel the frantic tremor in her thighs as she strains against the wires binding her to the metal rack. Ignoring her silent pleas, you apply more pressure, relishing the subtle give as the dull point finally pierces through.

A guttural scream rips through the gag, her back arching violently off the cold metal. Her limbs thrash against their constraints, the thin wires biting into her skin as her groan morphs into a raw, vibrating sound that echoes in the space. You feel a surge of triumph as the hook slides further in.

You continue pushing, deliberately slow, each millimeter a deliberate stretch of her unwilling flesh. The increasing thickness of the metal forces her sphincter to yield, bit by excruciating bit. Not even halfway in, the shape of the hook becomes apparent, a curved obstacle. You pause, feeling the tip press against the soft tissue between her ass and her pussy, a disturbing proximity.

Her muscles clench spasmodically around the steel, a tight, desperate grip that you briefly indulge before pulling back slightly. Her sphincter puckers around the metal, a helpless surrender to your intrusion.

A silent scream tears through her mind, fear in her widened eyes. Her body stiffens in protest, every nerve ending alight with pain. The hook tears through the delicate lining of her rectum, navigating her bowels, pressing against the wall separating it from her vagina. She thrashes wildly, the metal rack rattling, her head slamming back against the cold bars with a thud as she tries to escape the agonizing sensation of the foreign object invading her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" you ask with irritation. "Why is your ass so tight? I can't even get this thing in." Her only answer is a sudden rush of warmth against your hand, soaking through your fingers.

The stench of urine hits your nostrils as you watch the golden liquid spread across the cold metal beneath her. Her body convulses, a series of involuntary spasms. With a wet, squelching sound, you yank the hook back out. The hole left behind gapes open, then clenches, then loosens again, a raw and violated wound. A few crimson droplets splatter onto the floor, followed by a viscous, dark brown stream – shit.

Despite the overwhelming stench, a perverse thrill courses through you. Your cock throbs, rock hard. "Fucking disgusting," you spit out, looking down at the mess. "You couldn't even take a shit before coming here? Now look at you, a fucking mess." You hold up the hook, a small smear of her excrement clinging to the metal, before tossing it aside with a clatter. "Well," your gaze dropping back to her ruined backside, "at least it looks like my cock might actually fit now."

Ignoring the filth, your cock positions against her gaping asshole, the engorged head pressing against the raw opening. The swollen head still encounters resistance, but you are beyond caring. Gritting your teeth, you force it in, using the slick combination of urine and shit as lubrication.

SuA’s stomach hollows out as she sucks in a desperate breath through the gag, her eyes rolling back in her head. A thick trail of drool escapes the tapes binding her mouth as she teeters on the edge of consciousness, a broken and defiled doll under your control.

Your hand clamps onto SuA's slick ass, the skin yielding beneath your grip as you yank her towards your throbbing cock. The head slides against her tight asshole, a wholly different sensation than her yielding pussy. It's a constricted passage, gripping you with a vacant intensity.

Each roll of your hips grinds your shaft deeper, the opening clutching and releasing. The supposed filth of this encounter doesn’t register; only the primal urge to dominate fuels your actions. You impale her, driving into her ass with increasing force and speed, the impact jarring her small frame.

Her bound feet tense against whatever restraints hold them, every forceful thrust sending her breasts bouncing wildly. The gagged sounds escaping her throat are muffled, constricted by the bleach bottle lodged inside. Each shuddering swallow is visibly painful. A warm, uncontrollable stream of urine leaks from her pussy, each pulse of liquid a counterpoint to the rhythm of your cock filling her rectum.

Her anal muscles spasm around your shaft, a relentless squeeze that pushes you closer to the edge and you don't hold back, a guttural grunt escaping your lips as you ram into her, lifting her partially to meet your thrusts. The sounds of her struggle fade, replaced by ragged gasps, her grip on consciousness slipping.

Feeling the familiar tightening that heralds your climax, you rip your cock from her prolapsed asshole, the slick head coated in a mixture of blood and shit. Without hesitation, you plunge deep into her wet pussy, unleashing your seed, ensuring she's thoroughly bred. You grip her waist for support, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

Still buried inside her, a chuckle rumbles in your chest. You tear the tape from her head, the sticky residue pulling at her hair. The bottle remains wedged in her mouth, distending her throat until you yank it free. A gasp fills the air as oxygen floods her starved lungs.

Her mouth hangs open, saliva dripping onto her chest. A slap rings against her cheek. "Learned your lesson yet? Maybe next time you'll think twice before teasing the fans so much." You gesture down at the filth staining the floor. "This is on you. Your own damn fault you're shitting blood."

Before you can unleash more verbal torment, the muffled sound of voices drifts in from beyond the storage room door. "Shit," you hiss, your body tensing. You clamp a hand over her still-gaping mouth. With a shove, you ram the bleach bottle, now wet with even more of her saliva, into her ass.

Her body convulses once, then goes limp. She's out cold. You quickly straighten your clothes, a predatory satisfaction washing over you. Not forgetting the evidence, you grab your phone and snap a few more pictures of her broken form.

Confident the search party has moved on, you carefully unlock the door, leaving it slightly ajar, enough to obscure her but not completely closed. A cruel smile plays on your lips. Let them find her like this. You slip out, moving swiftly in the opposite direction of the receding voices.

[skzstarl0ver]

⭑ 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 ⭑

Changbin x reader / strangers to lovers / one shot / smut

**involves!!** Sexual content, dirty talk, strong languge, sex in public space, sex in the dark, praise kink, size kink, SMUT

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

The elevator jerks to a halt.

First, silence.

Then: click—total darkness.

You freeze, breath caught, still gripping your phone from a scroll you weren’t even paying attention to. Across from you, the guy in the black hoodie looks up from his own phone. For a moment, you just stare at each other, both blinking like owls in the dark.

"Uh," you say. "Did we just…?"

“Yeah,” he mutters. “That wasn’t normal.”

A beat of silence. Then a mechanical voice crackles from the speaker above: “System error. Emergency power offline. Please wait.”

You both look up.

“Oh, that’s not comforting at all,” you murmur, your voice just a touch higher than usual.

The guy chuckles. It’s a low, rich sound that cuts through the pitch black. “No kidding.”

You slide down the wall, sitting on the elevator floor. “This day has sucked,” you sigh. “And now I get to die in an elevator. Amazing.”

“Hey.” His voice is closer now—he’s sitting down too. “We’re not dying. Worst case, we get rescued with mild trauma and maybe dehydration.”

You snort. “Comforting and realistic. You should do public service announcements.”

“I’m Changbin,” he says, offering a hand you can’t see. You take it anyway. His hand is warm. Strong. Solid.

“[Your Name],” you reply. “You always this calm during disasters?”

“Nah. I just fake it really well.”

A pause. Then, unexpectedly, you both laugh. The kind of laugh that bubbles up from shared absurdity. It feels... good.

Over the next hour—or maybe it’s less, or more, time is weird in the dark—you talk. He tells you about producing music, about how he likes lifting weights because it clears his head. You tell him about your nightmare shift, and how you didn’t expect your night to end stuck in a metal box with a stranger who sounds like a radio DJ and laughs like it’s second nature.

At one point, your knees bump. You go to move, but he doesn’t.

You don’t either.

It starts with your knees touching.

Then his hand brushes yours on the floor—accidentally, at first. But he doesn’t move. Neither do you.

You can’t see much in the dark, just the faint glow of the emergency light above. But you feel him. The heat of him. The sound of his breath, just a little heavier than before. It hits you both at once.

The shift.

The awareness.

You’re not just stuck with a stranger anymore. You’re stuck with a man who smells like leather and cologne, who laughs with his whole chest, whose voice drips confidence and warmth. A man who’s looking at you like he wants to devour you, even in the pitch black.

“Is it just me,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “or is it getting really fucking hot in here?”

Your heart skips. “It’s not just you.”

And then he’s moving.

Fast.

You’re against the mirrored wall before you can take another breath, Changbin’s chest flush against yours, his hand cupping your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His mouth crashes onto yours—hot, hungry, desperate.

You moan into him, fingers clutching his hoodie as he deepens the kiss. His other hand grips your waist like he needs to anchor himself. He breaks away for half a second, breath ragged.

“Tell me to stop.”

You don’t.

You grab his hoodie tighter and pull him back in.

That’s all the permission he needs.

His hands are everywhere—palming your hips, dragging up your shirt, tracing your spine through your bra like he wants to memorize you by touch alone.

“You’re so soft,” he breathes against your neck. “So fucking perfect. You feel that?”

He grinds into you, and you feel the thick press of him through his sweats. You gasp—he’s already hard. And he’s big.

“Shit,” you whisper. “Changbin—”

“I know, baby,” he groans. “I know. Been trying to be good, but fuck—you're driving me crazy.”

He grabs your thighs suddenly and lifts you like it’s nothing, pinning your back against the cool elevator wall. Your legs wrap around him instinctively, hips rolling without thought.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he growls. “The second you smiled at me, I was done for. You’re so pretty. So fucking sweet.”

His praise melts into your skin like fire.

He reaches between you, tugging down your waistband with one hand, fingers fumbling but determined. When his hand slips beneath your panties, he groans—low, filthy, reverent.

“Already wet for me?”

You whimper. “Changbin—please—”

“You like being touched like this?” he murmurs, stroking you slowly, firmly, his forehead resting against yours. “Like knowing someone could come rescue us any second? Hear what I’m doing to you?”

“God—yes.”

He kisses you again—sloppier now, desperate—and then he’s pulling himself free from his pants with one hand, the other still holding you steady.

“Tell me you want this,” he pants. “Tell me you want me to fuck you right here.”

“Please,” you whisper. “I want it—I need you.”

He lines up, and with one thrust, he’s inside you—thick, deep, stretching you open in one dizzying stroke.

You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. He groans like he’s been starving.

“Fuck, you feel unreal,” he growls. “So tight—shit—how are you this perfect?”

He starts to move—hard and deep, but careful at first, like he’s testing your limits. Your moans echo off the elevator walls, each thrust driving you higher.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, voice hoarse. “Doing so good for me—so fucking good.”

He thrusts harder, faster, and you cry out—your body bouncing in his arms as he fucks you against the wall, his grip tightening with every thrust.

“Gonna cum for me, baby?” he pants. “Let go for me—wanna feel you fall apart.”

You nod helplessly, mouth open, moans spilling out as your orgasm builds fast—hot, tight, overwhelming.

“I’m gonna—fuck—Changbin—”

“That’s it,” he groans. “Cum for me. Make a mess. Let them fucking hear how good I make you feel.”

You shatter.

Body shaking, vision white, thighs clenching around him as you cum hard—soaking him, gasping his name like a prayer.

And then he’s right behind you—thrusting erratically, moaning into your shoulder as he spills inside you with a deep, broken growl.

You both go still.

Panting.

Sticky. Sweaty. Legs trembling.

Somewhere above, the emergency light flickers. The elevator lurches.

Power’s back.

You both freeze.

“…Do we, uh. Clean up fast or embrace the felony?” you whisper.

He grins.

“Both.”

[imdumbhi]

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.

[captainpriceslilwife]

nnnggghhhhhuuhhhhh tbi!Soap who gets a little weird after his injury. (CW: yall this is like DARK...idk where this came from, so uh, dark themes, gore description at the end, soap is a freak, he's literally obsessed with you, stalker vibes but he lives with you, dark smut made its way in there so 18+, soap is literally batshit crazy and he wants you to be like him) dead dove do not eat, probably

maybe you're his sweet girlfriend who he's been dating for almost a year already, but when he comes back from that life-changing mission, he fully expects you to break up with him. He's too different now - too high maintenance. He needs meds and physical therapy and counseling...not to mention he'd never be a soldier again. Plus, doctors said he'd never be the same.

But you love your Johnny so much. How could you not help him when he needs you the most?

So you're there at his side, every single day, to try to get a smile back on his face. Always at every one of his PT appointments - cheering and giving him a little applause for each milestone he reaches ('good job, baby!' 'see? I told you you'd heal quick since you're so strong! isn't he so strong, doc?'). You refill his pill box every week without fail, and you always add a little candy to each compartment to reward him for taking his meds. Sometimes he finds a little note on there with a heart or a smiley face on the days when you aren't home to remind him to take his medication - but it's always gone by the time you get back. You figure he's just throwing them away, and it stings a little, but you don't think twice about it.

You don't seem to think twice about your dwindling underwear drawer, either.

You cook for him. Clean for him. Help him walk around when he's having a particularly rough day. And he falls more in love with you every day because of it.

But there's something....off....about his new layer of admiration for you.

You brush it off as the 'personality changes' the doctors had warned you about. Of course had can't possibly be normal after what happened to him. I mean, who would be?

But sometimes he scares you when you blink your eyes open in the morning, only to see him already staring at you as if he had never slept to begin with. Or when you get up to pee in the middle of the night and he insists on standing silently in the doorway, refusing to go back to bed until you're done and can lie back down with him.

He always needs you in his line of sight. Always needs to be near you.

Even when you cook dinner and try to encourage him to rest on the couch, he just sits on the floor of the kitchen and disassembles and reassembles his gun - something the doctors encouraged you to let him do. 'It'll be good for him, to do things he used to do. Might help him get back to normal.'

It doesn't make it any less unnerving when he feels the need to stare at you while he does it.

As time goes on, he eventually finds himself drawing again - much to your relief. He's switched out the silver metal and bullets for his old charcoal and paper, and you finally find yourself breathing easier as you step over his legs to stir the pot on the stove.

You try not to notice that he only draws you.

You in bed, you in the shower, you cooking, you cleaning, you naked, you napping, you changing - just you.

If he's having a hard day - one where his scarred skin is throbbing and he struggles even to remember what had happened that morning - he'll just draw parts of you. Your hands holding his pills, your hair in a ponytail, your nose, your eyes-

Whatever he can remember.

Sometimes you try to encourage him to draw other things - showing him pictures of the trips you guys used to take together to get his memory flowing, but it always puts him in a mood. And you try your hardest to keep him happy, so you always drop the subject.

Unfortunately, the only way to get him out of those moods is to let him fuck you.

And you still love him, of course - still love to be wrapped up in his arms as he works himself inside of you.

But lately he's just more...rough.

He'd never hurt you. Not in a million years. Not even a bullet could take away his love for you.

But his hips slam hard and fast against you as he ruts inside of you, pushing you up the bed as you desperately try to hold onto him to ground yourself. And he always makes sure you're staring into his eyes when he cums, otherwise he'll keep you locked in his arms until he's ready to go again. It's a ritual for him - like he'll die if he doesn't get to have you like this.

And he's always been a munch, everyone knows it. But now? He tells you he can't sleep unless he eats you out before bed. And you just want him to be happy and healthy, right? So, you let him.

Except he doesn't stop unless he feels like it, or until your pushing his head away, crying and begging for a break. He eats like a man starved, not coming up to breath until he sees silver spots coloring the edges of his vision - and even then he'll just dive right back in. He's messy with it, too - slobbering like a dog and ruining the sheets as he creeps his tongue as far back as he can get before your squealing out a "Johnny, don't, that's gross!"

He's weird. And offputting. And sometimes he makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

But he's your Johnny. You love him to death. And he could never actually scare you.

Not until you end up deep cleaning your shared bedroom - finally convincing him to shower on his own so you can finally have a moment to yourself.

You're blindly sweeping underneath the bed when you hit something hard - and your brows furrow in confusion when you lean down to see an unfamiliar wooden box hidden beneath his side of the bed.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure he's still occupied in the shower before you slide it out quietly. There's not a speck of dust on it, unlike everything else that's made its way beneath the bed, so clearly it was something he used. Something he cherished.

You push it open with a soft click, silently thanking whatever god was listening that he hadn't bothered to lock it shut with the padlock that dangled from the latch opening. But your gratitude was quickly swallowed up by something much darker when your eyes fell down to see what was in the box.

Your missing underwear is bunched in the corner, coated in his own spend that he had made sure to specifically aim at your already dirtied gussets. It strikes you with the realization of just how many times you've caught him digging in your laundry basket, claiming he's looking for something - or how many times you could've sworn he was smelling you when he stood too close.

When you finally manage to get over the initial shock of seeing such an obscene display of his obsession towards you, you're gaze trails down to the pile of papers tucked beneath your soiled panties. At first, they seem just like all the other drawings he's made of you, and you can't figure out why they're tucked away. But when you look a little harder, you see the small keloid that sneaks its way into every drawing - a scar on your temple to match the one that adorns him.

You flip through the drawings quickly, your movements growing more frantic as you realize each one of them features the same disfigurement in varying levels of detail. Some of them are just a dash of his charcoal against the paper, and some of them are so detailed that you could swear he had taken a picture of his own just to copy it onto the page.

By the time you get to the last drawing, tears are slipping down your cheeks and falling in fat drops into your lap. You choke out a silent sob when you see what artwork he felt the need to bury so deeply, and you aren't even sure what you could possibly be feeling as you pull out the paper with trembling hands.

It's the only picture that isn't just of you.

He drew himself too.

He's got your head in his lap as he brushes his fingers through your hair, and he drew himself leaned over like he was whispering something in your ear.

It would be a sweet drawing if it wasn't for the gun he was holding - the same gun he took apart and built again in the kitchen while you took care of him - or the fact that he drew you with a hole in your temple. He had drawn the blood that poured from your wound - drew it on his hands and on his lap, down onto the floor as the penciled version of you looked up at him with nothing but love and understanding.

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

Bile was rising quickly in your throat as you forced the drawings back into the box - crinkling the papers and shifting the other stuff around as you tried to hold back your sobs.

A glint of metal rolling around the wooden floor of the box catches your attention - especially when it disappears beneath his horde of obsession and clinks gently against something else.

You're entire body is trembling at this point, and your mind is screaming at you to get out. To leave him and go as far as you can.

But your hand seems to move on its own as you reach down into dark corners of the box, feeling around for the tiny object that was pulling at a curiosity that you should've just buried along with your love for Johnny.

Once you make it past the underwear, past the drawings, past the notes that you had left him that you thought he had thrown away - your fingers wrap around a tiny glass jar and something much smaller. Something cold and metallic.

You can barely bring yourself to look as you pull it out slowly, but the second your eyes land on it, you can't hold back the panicked sobs that escape your lips.

In the jar is the bullet they had removed from Johnny's brain during surgery - a trophy, the doctors had called it. It was marred and crumpled, but it still clinked around lightly as you stared down at it.

This tiny little thing is what took away your Johnny. Your Johnny. The sweet man who always had a smile on his face and more love to give than he knew what to do with.

This is the tiny little thing that led him to carve your name into the bullet that lies in your other hand - meticulously written and finished with a tiny heart at the bottom.

A matching set.

"Oh, fuck...oh my fucking god." You whisper under your breath as you choke out another sob, completely frozen in horror. "Jesus fucking-"

It isn't until you feel cool drops of water dripping down your back that you realize the shower has stopped.

You can't bring yourself to look up at him - as though you're willful ignorance of his presence will somehow make him disappear. But your trembling sobs give away just how scared you are as you try to curl away from him.

A frightened yelp tears from your throat as he sinks down onto the floor, wrapping his bare, dripping form around you and holding you tight to keep you locked in his embrace.

"Ah'd never hurt ye, hen. Ye know that, right? Ah'm only thinking about it." You can barely hear him over the pounding in your ears as you continue to sob loudly, but you can feel the way one of his hands travels up to run through your hair in what you can only assume is meant to be a soothing gesture. But you aren't sure how soothing it is when his thumb brushes over your temple, right where he always drew your scar. "Ah just...ah wish ye knew how it felt. Just so we can be closer."

"...Ah just want to be close to ye..."

[rayasslicker]

x. another life (written work)

You groaned, throwing your phone into one of the soft cushions.

To say that Scaramouche is a morning person was a complete understatement—that guy's a complete, abnormal morning freak. You're pretty sure he went to bed at around midnight and guessing from the times you've seen him prepare, he'd take at least two whopping hours to, what? contemplate which shade of color goes well for his Minecraft boxers?

Yeah.

That's how slow the asshole is. And listen, you're not one to judge; you're a morning person as well, but in fairness, it's mostly because you're still high from the adrenaline of doing a concerning amount of work before taking a short nap.

So, again, yeah. He's a fucking morning freak that you would absolutely not appreciate in your morning routine that requires the absolute of patience needed.

Clicking your tongue, you shoot a glare at your glowing device. One that could hopefully urge the phone to burst into flames.

Okay, bath. Bath. Bath.. bath.. bath..

–

“Three baskets of strawberries, thirty kilograms of flour, and that Letche brand of baking powder in..” you squinted, willing the memory out of the corner of your brain, “..in aisle three or seven. Just request three boxes of those, thank you.”

The man with the brown cap nodded, eagerly taking notes with the most worn-out pen you've seen so far, “that's it, miss..?”

You smiled. “Miss [Name]. We’ll be seeing each other more, I'm sure of it.”

“Got it! We'll have it delivered by.. presumably three days from now.”

Seconds passed by as the sounds of scribbles filled the air, until another man emerged from of the entrance, form shifting and awkward before the sound of chimes and an embarrassed voice shatters the silence, “sorry to bother you, but uh, um. Your coworker, I assume..? Your coworker is very.. aggressive, and I think he wants to go in. Inside, I mean. Here.”

Silence ensued as you stared blankly at both men, before recognition hits you like cold ass water.

How the motherfuck do I always forget that he exists, goddamnit!

You flashed the two men a customer-service smile, whispers of apologies on your lips as you rushed to the door.. and, lo and behold! The Beauty and the Beast: budget edition!

Said Beast snaps his head to you, an ugly scowl adorning his face, “calltime was 8:00AM. and it's 8:09AM. How hard is it for you to be punctual for once, you fucking–”

You sighed, eyes shutting to a close, “as you said, it's 8:09AM in the morning and it's still early. Can we save the yelling later in the afternoon?”

Your veins throbbed when a click of a tongue was all you could hear before a calmer voice replaced it once again, “yeah, whatever, fruitcake. Let's get on with it. Who were those people, anyway?”

He pats the metal part of his Beauty, slowly treading over to your side, “uh. just a few of those delivery guys. yeah.”

“‘s that so? Also, fucking gross. I can hear your saliva swirling around, shithead. Keep it down.”

“..Shut up!”

–

God.

This was gonna be an absolute comedian 12-Hour Shitshow. With the first guests being the poor two men having to witness the most atrocious altercation between two hard-headed rivals, especially the one with grape-hair.

A particularly idiotic expression coursed through your rival’s face, “no, that's why you don't need the three boxes of shitty baking powder, you dumbass! You have to finish the remaining ones in the pantry first!”

The man with the brown cap flitted his eyes to the Asshole, before going back to yours, “and as I've said, there's only two in the pantry! Two! We need more than just two, and there's barely any stores in here that sells that specific brand!”

“That damn thing is also about to expire.”

“No, it's not! We bought it just a year ago, in the highest quality!”

“Baking powders lasts up from six to eighteen fucking months! You're a barista slash baker, how do you not know that!?”

“Erm—”

“Eighteen! There's still six months left. And—”

“Fuck off with your mumbling shit. There's no need to buy lthree fucking boxes of baking powder to last you a year, you dipshit. You only need one!”

“No, we don't—”

“—Um, as much as we're enjoying this, uh. Conversation, I think we have to really get going, because um. We're running late. So. How many boxes, really?” The sheepish man put out a notepad, strikingly similar to the man with the brown cap that's now pulled down to his face.

Heat burned in your cheeks as you pinched the Asshole’s side, ignoring his utterly embarrassing squeak as you replied back, “Two. just.. two. Thank you.”

The two simultaneously and awkwardly replied, “got it!”

You and Scaramouche shared a glance as they scurried to the door, before it turned into a glare.

“That was your fault, by the way.”

“Was not.”

“It was.”

“If you hadn't made a comment on the baking powder, then this wouldn't have happened.”

Scaramouche scoffed, the snark so prominent it makes you nauseous, “oh, fuck off. you listened to me in the end, didn't you? kind of proves that you really needed my help.”

A snort left your lips as you approached him, arms folded, “kinda? shut up, I never needed it,” there was a harsh finality in your tone and you made sure to emphasize it as you jabbed a finger to his chest, “I survived 15 years without your help. And I sure don't need it now.”

And in response, Scaramouche all but blinked, shock morphing his expression before it contorted to one of mixed miniscule confusion and amusement, “ever heard of sarcasm, fruitcake? you're so easy to rile up.”

Your eye twitched. It's still 8:30AM. You open up at 9:00AM. 9:00AM..

Exhale, inhale.

“And that exhale, inhale thing you're doing is also pretty dumb, by the way.”

“Okay,” you were so close. so close to punching the asshole out of here. better yet, fire him and put the nastiest record on his file, but you know better than that. because, again, exhale inhale exhale inhale— “shut the fuck up, and turn over that damn sign. go parade out the streets since you're such a dollface, you goddamn asshole. maybe you should put that pretty face of yours to some use instead of using it for the ugliest shittiest fucking–”

“You think I'm pretty?”

What. The fuck?

Your brain short-circuits, as you blankly turn to him.

Scaramouche, the shit-eating asshole that he is, dares to even flutter his eyelashes. Eyeliner becoming more prominent amidst the pale expanse that is his face and by gods, you can only hope that the absolute nausea that's swirling in your stomach right now is reflecting on your face, because why in the goddamn fuck did he say it as if it wasn't an universal fact?

Yes, he's pretty! Of course, he is! It's like goddamn sky is blue, grass is green and Tighnari is head over heels for Cyno—so why the fuck is this hardheaded dickhead acting as if your flattery is anything different from the others!?

And after prolonged minutes of intense emotional whiplash between nausea, disgust, shock and acceptance, you reply, “no, you look like god’s abandoned piece of shit.”

He snorts, poise relaxing as he sits by one of the chairs, leg propped up over the other leg, “that's a funny thing to think about.”

“..Are you gonna do the damn thing or are you just gonna—”

“Alright, alright, you fussy shithole!”

–

It's only a short 30 minutes before you’re working on the counter again: swiveling through the counter, putting on the most customer-service smile, throwing an occasional ‘good morning’ to the elderly, and saying ‘hi’ to the chit-chat companion you sporadically talk to.

Except this time, this fucking time, there's a fucking twink bumping hips and asses with you in every turn.

Hey, listen, the café that your grandmother owns specifically intends to hold two workers minimum considering that she had this whole thing built for her husband that soon passed when you were younger. So, meaning to say, it's not particularly small. It's somewhat large if you consider it, but goddamn.

It's like every hit and bump is laced with ill purpose. But when you turn to him to reprimand him, his eyes hold the same sceptical annoyance as well.

(A gnawing thought itches at your skin, but you turn that shit off the second it appears, because it mentions quite the inappropriate thing. Hint: thing being ass.)

It's gotten so bad that by the time it hits an hour before lunchtime, one of the regulars asks the most atrocious thing.

“Um, not to offend or anything, but are you two.. dating?”

And.. that? Oh boy, did your composure nearly slip if it weren't for the hand that was aggressively on your head once again along with an insincere voice cooling the atmosphere down and basically talking in the undertone of, “fuck off and never say that again”.

Along the way of him explaining, which took 3 customers waiting in line watching the theatrical show of your expressions shifting from what to yes, he's right, his fingers slowly threaded through your scalp.

And, shit. It feels good. Like, really good. You'd rather die than ponder more over that though.

So, with renewed fury, you slap his hand away, cutting him off from the yet-still persistent customer who keeps demanding if you two were dating. Which is surprising because you're pretty sure it's been five minutes.

It's then that Scaramouche gently pulls at your ear and roughly whispers, “this guy wants to fucking date you, assshat.”

Your eyes imperceptibly widen, shifting from his to the man before you, as well as the five people behind who're so clearly tired and waiting for their daily dose of caffeine.

Customers aiming for the barista aren't typically common in your area, so this situation is a bit shocking.

A sigh left your lips, as you put out a stance, “is there a problem? There's a line waiting, you know.”

The man fumbles, as you check him out, “right! sorry.”

The moment ended as fast as it came as you tended to the customers, who still seemed a bit pissed by the whole event. By the time the clock hits an hour of lunch and the whole interior is swimming in delicate gold color, you can already feel the lethargy seeping into your bones as you slumped back against the chairs.

Watching customers wasn't really your thing since you particularly have a bad habit of overdoing it and glaring into their souls instead, but perhaps this time, it wouldn't be that bad.

A short few minutes passes by before the gasbag opens its mouth again, “stop glaring at the customers like that, fruitcake. You're gonna scare them.”

That nickname..

You rolled your eyes, “oh, shut up. They don't even care.”

“Look at that little kid over there, he's shivering under your glare.”

“You're schizophrenic, shut up.”

“Yeah, and my hair is green. Anyways, where's lunch?”

Your brows raised as you turned to Scaramouche, who's also currently leaning against the doorway of the staff room, “what lunch?”

He blankly stared at you, “what do you mean, ‘what lunch’? you self-destructive piece of shit.”

You gulp, “I don't.. eat lunch?”

And, silence. Only for a short minute though, because the gasbag can't really keep his mouth closed to save his life.

“Oh, fuck you. What do you mean ‘you don't eat lunch’? Is this why you go stupid after lunch breaks?”

A frown settled on your face as shame blossomed on your cheeks, “I just get busy! And, don't call me that. I still beat you on afternoon recitations.”

A snort, “beat me, my ass. your answers are always slurred.”

“..No, it's not.”

“Ask that little brunette friend of yours and find out.”

“You're such an asshole.”

“I'm so kind, I know. And, also,” an onigiri flew into the air as you stumble over one of the stools to grab it, “30-Minute break is over, assshat. I'll take over first and you better eat that shit, or else.”

Then, slam.

You eyed the onigiri on your hand with suspicion. It was [favourite flavor].

Your gut squirms.

–

The rest of the shift passes by as uneventfully, and as the inky dark finally looms over and the café is deprived of the usual nightly customers, the Asshole finally shows signs of weariness. And it's then that you make the mistake of commenting on it.

“Aw, Mr. Twink tired already?”

“Fuck off, I don't like talking to people.”

“Uh huh, weak ass.”

He glares at you, leg attempting to sweep over to yours but you evade anyways, “try putting on a facade and act like a suck-up bitch.”

Of course, he'd think like that.

“Well, you just—”

“—Do people usually come and ask you out like that?”

And, oh. Well, that's certainly unexpected.

Your gut squirms yet again, “what?”

Why does he care? Is he shitting me?

“Are you deaf, or what?”

“Why do you care about my love life, huh?”

His face drops to a comedic deadpan, all hints of curiosity dissolving, “And in what statement did I even state that.”

You stuck your tongue, “you implied it, not my fault.”

“And this is why you placed third in that ‘Comprehension Reading Regionals’, you know.”

Annoyance settles in your temples as you shove him by the shoulder, “the past is past, that was two years ago, get over it. and besides, i was literally–”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Shut up! it's true, and hey, I can totally beat you up again if ever the regionals come up and–”

“Yadda, yadda, yadda. Just admit you suck at reading comprehension.”

“Not until you admit sucking on dick!”

That seemed to do the trick, considering the way that familiar scowl finally settles in on his face.

“God, I hate you. You're the reason I've been getting dick pictures in my dms.”

You scoffed, he had the nerve to complain, “at least you don't get death threats from crazy fangirls.”

and instead of an answer, you feel a sharp stab in your shin, and that stupid shit-eating smirk only widens before it leaves out of your eyesight in a very comical downward motion.

“Yeah, that's right. kneel under me, dipshit.”

“You sadistic shit,” you snapped as you did a sweep kick aimed for his shins, and surprisingly that did the job as the Asshole falls over to his ass with a ‘thump’.

A transient glance was shared in understanding before the Asshole grasped at your forearm and pulled you over down with him to have you in a quasi-headlock.

“Fuck..you—” pain blossomed in your knee as you whirled around to knee him on the stomach, a wince coming out of him as he let go of you.

A brief second passed with a glare before he attempted to pin you down on the floor, only to ultimately fail by missing one of your wrists which resulted in a jab in the forearm.

The process went back and forth.

There had been way too many instances wherein you and Scaramouche nearly went into a brawl in the middle of the classroom, art room, or even the canteen. But this? This was the official one. And fuck, are you glad that no one is in the café right now, lest they'd hear the concerning amount of expletives exploding in the air.

..And!

Sike. Turns out, the universe really, really does fucking hates you.

Faintly, the bell chimes.

Your head snapped to the front, as the Asshole shifted to get a peek at the entrance—and, boom, a small ball of greys appears and your heart jumps.

Fuck, it really was your grandmother.

Sending a quick survey at the man on top of you, whose pale face is currently decorated in ugly black and purple blotches, your instinct flies in.

Which was kicking him off, resulting in a concerningly loud thud with a groan. Which also did not help with your heart hammering in your chest and your breath hitching—

“What the fuck!?” He exclaims, and you swear to the flying fuck—

“Dear?” a velvety voice comes in, the door hinges creaking as it finally opens to the staff room and—

God, you wish you could take a picture of your beautiful grandmother’s face right now.

───────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───────────────────

|| previous episode - next episode. ||

───〃★tunes of your heartbeat masterlist

synopsis: in which your fate somehow gets entangled into a messy jumble between punk music in cozy cafés, intense rivalry, cherished yakults, parallelograms and quantum physics, competitions in contests and rainy days. or in other words; the universe seems to fucking hate your guts for whatever reason and decided to curse your love life with your awful crass emo twink-a-fuck rival. the question is; did the curse work?

taglist (50/50): @toekissers , @raineyun @localscarasimp , @potteraep , @shutingstar , @feiherp , @scaraenthusiast1 @dazqa , @wraithisd3adinside , @x-hihihi-x , @court-jester-stuff , @automaticpatroltragedy , @lalalaloveallmydays , @trulyylee , @jayzioxx , @featuredtofu @kazemiya @help-whatdoimakemyusername , @skyoverkill1 @phoenix-eclipses , @anqelkoz , @miyakomari @saechiro @franaby , @swivi , @vixialuvs , @heusalettle @kunikissr @yomishen @mywillt0live , @baldrapunzel @jiminscarmex @sushitushi , @liuaneee , @shynsgore , @mechanicalbeat1 , @marivaudages , @okukura , @azzumei @lucid1tty @iloveescara @usagiarchive @kyouzki @theunhingedmf @kangyeonie @mi2ukiss @bubblebellaz @eternallykira-143 @lumiicch

• featured song - im like a lawyer with the way im trying to get you off by fall out boy

• notes - meeEEEE AND YOUUUUUUUU SETTING ON AAAAA HONEYMOOOONNNNNNNNN give fall out boy a listen cuz GODDAMNNNuggghhh this song is an addiction i need it in my brain waves and also i think this song is popular in tiktok so i hope tjta helps UGGHHHH ME AND YOUUU SETTING ON A HONEYMOOONNIF I WOKE UP NEXT YO YOUUUUU

author's notes: how to quite literally force yourself to write? make a smau that has 60% writing in it. im not even joking dawg. but i love writing so😋😋😋 also can you tell im so ao3 style typa writing? i was gonna write more but then i realized that it's a goddamn smau hayss....

p.s - im passing the fuck out after this but oh my god we reached???? 700??? on the masterlist?? HELLO???? hello new followers omfmdkdndnd giggles okay stop

also totally-detailed schedule of the cafe shift:

Monday to Tuesday - Grandma and friends

Tuesday to Thursday - Hu Tao and granny friends

Friday to Saturday (interchanging) - [Name] and Scaramouche💜

afternoons to evenings in weekdays - double workers

mornings in weekdays - single worker

mornings to evenings in weekends - double workers

(ask to be added or removed)

[bunny-jpeg]

all bark, no bite

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, halloween fic, costumes (reader dresses as a puppy), collars, team principal!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), power dynamic, semi-public sex, quiet-ish sex, clothed sex, dirty talk

a/n: have a happy halloween, i'm writing more team principal au, if you have any suggestions for future installments, please send them to me. i love hearing what ya'll come up with!!

"you are not going to the party like that." you felt like you were being scolded by your father rather than your boss. you made a face and looked over to see your team principal near by.

you stuck your tongue out, "too bad." then started to walk further away from your driver's room and towards the exit. but, you didn't get far, not while your boss had a longer stride than you.

he captured your wrist and pulled you back, closer to him. in your heels, you staggered backwards. you looked up at him and frowned. he said, "i said, you're not going out like that."

"i don't have another costume." you bit back.

max made a face, "go as a verstappen racing fan. i don't know. but i'm not having you cause a scene because you decided to dress like a whore."

you had a complicated relationship with your team principal. you had seen the jokes over the years of tps having interesting dynamics with drivers, even drivers not on their team. you had even seen memes about your own dynamic with max verstappen.

if only they knew.

he had you pinned to his chest, with his hand on your wrist as he examined your neck from the odd angle. he clicked his tongue and said, "what is this costume even supposed to be?"

you replied, "a puppy."

"a puppy, huh? usually puppies have some manners. they at least look a little apologetic when their owners are mad at them." he sad as he used his other hand to touch at the collar around your neck, "you're not very apologetic towards me."

"you're not my owner."

he replied, "you may not have my name around your neck. but you have my logo across your pretty tits every time you race. i'd say that's about the same thing." you are max verstappen were intimate in a way that would send the press into a heated frenzy. you gave him racing results and he gave you the world.

but he had such a possessive streak through him. a jealous old man. you whined when he held onto your throat a little tighter. you shifted a little under his touch.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and squeezed the collar a little, thus squeezing your throat. he groaned, "if you wanted me to fuck you on halloween, you only had to ask." he held on a little tighter.

there was no one else around. there wouldn't be. halloween was on a thursday, practice didn't start till tomorrow. you eventually ended up on the transport boxes with the skirt of your dress hiked up.

you were dressed like a dalmatian, except anyone could make out the shape of your body. max had expectations for you as a driver for his team. he knew what it was like to be young with the world at your fingertips. he was meant to guide you. especially with how everyone recorded anything.

"hoping to get lucky tonight, puppy?" he asked as he pushed the dress up, exposing the thin, white cotton panties underneath. he licked his lips, "we could've gone back to my hotel room and played all night. fetch, tug-o-war, maybe you'd even get a bone by the end of the night." he licked his lips.

your face flushed and you shifted against the metal and plastic of the boxes. the surface was uneven and left your back feeling sore. this felt so public, it wasn't in the most excluded area. you swallowed, "oh my god, shut up." and whined when he kissed at your neck. your panties were around your ankles.

and when he kissed you, you heard the clink of his belt buckle and the zip of his jeans. he loomed over you. he was boarder than you, he could easily overshadow and overpower you. you whined when you felt his cock rub up against your slick entrance.

he said, "aw, look at that. they're kissing." he was talking about his sticky cock up against your slick pussy. the blunt head up against your clit. it made you feel a rush of pleasure through you.

you could feel the excitement, the risk of it all. if some stray reporter came through here or a security guard. you knew what the headlines for the weekend would be.

young, promising driver takes a ride on her team principal.

he sank into your sweet cunt and your ached your back. you let out a small noise and max put a hand over your mouth. your nose was left uncovered so you could breath. his other hand was on your thigh as he rocked against you. he said in a low voice, "you know i love when you're loud, but you have to to stay quiet. you can be a good puppy, right? be a good girl for me."

his praise made something bloom in your stomach as he moved against you. you had a total kink for his praise, that was why you always pushed yourself so hard on the track. it was why you were over a hundred points ahead of the second place racer. you thrived off of it, to have someone like max give you praise.

you moaned against his hand, your voice muffled as he rocked against you. his cock slotted in you so well. you exhaled deeply through your nose. you couldn't feel your headband anymore and hair got in your face as he fucked you in such a public space.

"fuck." he groaned, "you have no idea what you do to me.' he moved against you further, "i never know i liked costumes. maybe next year, you should go as me." he chuckled as he curved over you and got at a deeper angle, "but i sort of like you in a collar better."

you groaned and reached for his shoulders. you clutched onto his shoulder tightly. his cock hit up against the softest parts of you and it made you see stars. you panted heavily and tried to keep quiet even though max's hand was good at muffling most of the noise.

you pretty painted black nails dug into his shoulders through the verstappen racing t-shirt he wore. you looked good with his logo across your chest, but he looked just as nice in a black t-shirt.

hunger ran through you as he fucked your feverishly. there was no time for tenderness. while he loved taking you apart with his tongue and fingers. there really was no time to waste.

you felt the heat on your body, your costume stuck to you in a weird way. the blank tag on your collar bounced with the movements of your boss' thrusts. something about this felt wrong, it was wrong. you were certain there had been casual affairs throughout the decades of formula one.

but nothing quite like this. the protege of one of the greatest being fucked by her boss. your pretty tits bounced with a whorish movements as she got railed in the paddock of her team. quite the scandal if it got out.

most thought you fucked your way to the top. but, in all fairness, max saw how you drove before he saw the sway of your hips. he valued your skill more than your ability to suck his cock or take his thick fingers in your slick pussy.

you were his champion, sex was just a component of it. he took your virginity, and you gave him the points he needed to win. you tightened your legs around him as he continued to drill his cock into you. the pace increased as you felt the swarm of pleasure in your head.

you weren't going to the party tonight. you could already tell.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you a proper collar. something a little more padded. with a tag with my name on it. if you're going to be my puppy then, you'll have to look the party. don't worry about a tail or ears. you'll do just fine in lacy lingerie that i can tear off with my teeth."

you swallowed, your cunt clenched around him as he continued to fuck you with a heavy pace. your felt any sense go out your ear, fully engulfed by the heat between you two. max knew how to make you feel good, he knew exactly how to get your yearning for more. if you were a puppy then he was the big, bad wolf.

you whined around his hand and he pressed his palm further against you. he shushed you and held onto your hip tighter as he thrusted against you. he watched your eyes roll a little from the pleasure of the entire situation.

he could feel the leap in his chest and the sweat on his back. he didn't often fuck you in such a public place. but he couldn't help himself. you got to prance off to some luxury party hosted by drivers of another team. you were going to be with liquor, boys and whatever else money could buy.

of course he was going to be concerned about his darling driver. his superstar. after all, he had high expectations for you. you were going to be the best if you weren't already. and he wasn't going let you ruin it over some cheap shots and boys with small packages. he knew you needed someone older, someone like him.

the pace became faster, erratic with little formalities. there was little rhythm to it as his cock kissed the hottest parts of you. the parts that made you pant under his hand. your gaze became unfocused and your blood pumped in your ears.

you clutched onto him and whined something that max couldn't hear. he replaced his hand with his lips. the kiss was hot as you held onto him tightly. it was all too much, the pleasure crossed through you like a heated sword and you came around his cock.

he groaned when you clenched around him. your nails dug into his skin. it only fueled his need to fuck you harder. while not the most ideal position. he'd make due. when you broke the kiss, you panted heavily with your gaze unfocused. you looked whorish, but max loved it.

the pace continued, and max made sure that your body was wracked with more lust as he continued to fuck you. he cursed in dutch under his breath as he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you.

you both moaned a little louder than you hoped for. you leaned forward against him. your pressed your cheek against his clothed chest as you tried to catch your breath.

max composed himself quickly and combed his fingers through your hair tenderly. he groaned, "good, puppy."

you looked up at him and asked, "can i go to the party tonight?"

he chuckled and patted your cheek with a little force. he chuckled, "cute. no, no. you're going to get your messy panties back on and we're going back to the hotel. i'm not letting a good puppy like you get into trouble." he pinched your cheek which made you whine.

"plus, i think you need some more training."

-

the following morning, your teammate was walking through the paddock beside you. the two of you were chatting, but your stomach dropped when he looked over and noticed something over one of the boxes.

you two stopped and before your teammate could say a word. your teammate pointed at the headband. you felt a cold sweat as he asked, "are those... dog ears?" then looked at you, "those look like the ones you were supposed to wear to the party last night... you never came to that."

you chuckled nervously, "well, i got tired... but mine are in my hotel room." you heard whistling and looked over to see your team principal walking by. you called for max, "max, isn't my costume in my hotel room."

he perked up and looked over. he pointed to the headband on the box and replied, "oh no.. those are yours." your boss broke into a grin. and your eyes went wide as he walked away.

you could feel your ears burn as your teammate asked.

"where were you last night anyway?" <3

this is part of the max verstappen team principal au

[thedevilsoftruth]

Say you're sorry

Congressman! B. Barnes x f! reader

Sum: Bucky is called out of a meeting because you--his wife--had " hit his aide" after he wouldn't let you in to see him. So, he decides to deal with you in a different way.

Warnings/smut tags: porn no plot, rough sex, desktop/office fucking, piv sex, from the front and behind, brat tamer Bucky, crying during sex, implied choking, hair pulling, bondage, light usage of " daddy, " established ( married ) relationship. Not beta read.

Little drabble for you all to enjoy while I work on RIBB. sorry if this one is weird, I dont normally do daddy kink stuff, but I was feeling adventurous today.

MDNI!!! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet!!

[ My marvel request box is open. Please see my pinned post for additional information regarding my request rules. ]

" I can't believe you'd fucking do that! "

His hissed words are harsh and laced with dominance per usual, but there's a very discreet underline of disbelief in them.

" Bucky please-- "

You're sobbing as he stands in front of you as you sit atop the mahogany desk in his office with your hands bound behind your back by his black tie. He cuts you off quickly and sharply as if he didn't even want to hear you speaking.

" I don't want to hear your pitiful excuses. " He spat, his cock dragging across your drooling cunt at a pace so fast that you can barley hand onto the loose strand of his tie. He'd been practically yelling at you all night since the incident happened. He was in so much disbelief. He was shocked, moreover, but he was very upset with you, and that was very apparent to you with the harsh, punishing thrusts he gave you.

" Seriously, what the fuck were you thinking? " He asked you with gritted teeth, poking your forehead with his index finger. You gulped hard and threw your head back, a loud, strangled moan leaving your mouth.

" You know I dont like your competitors. " You managed between sobs, even with your throat filled with the salvia that you were desperately trying to clear out of your way. Bucky scoffed at you, his head jerking back as he shook his head at you.

" It's politics. " He tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world and you're too dumb to understand it. " There's always going to be split sides and enemies. You don't get to just waltz in uninvited and start fighting them! "

His words truly do mirror how angry he is at you. You can't deny that he's not wrong, either. Bucky usually never yells at you, but this situation is different and you had done something that deserved the treatment he was giving you.

Your thighs are shaking around him, your hips jolting as if trying to get away from his wrath. But he holds you down by his right hand, and you whine loudly as he begins to slow done his pace.

" So here's what we're gonna do. " He begins, pulling out of you completely, making you feel empty and cold. He forces you to your feet, your heels clicking on the floor as he pulls you down. Your legs are trembling, your body feeling heavy and sore as he immediately brings you into another position. He puts his hands on your hips, and you attempt to back away from him, but fail from how much you were stumbling and shaking.

" No, no, no, none of that. You know better than that. " He grunts, pushing you back against his desk with rough hands. " You're going to stay right here and take what I fucking give you, do you understand? "

You choke on a groan.

" Yes, daddy. " You sniffled. He smiles and wipes away the warm tears running down your wet, pink cheeks.

" Good girl. " He praises, cupping your face in his big hands as he leans down to kiss your puffy lips. You kiss him back greedily and hungrily, like you were waiting for it to happen and almost as if it was the last kiss he was ever going to give you. His salt-and-pepper beard scrapes your skin as his mouth moves against you. His metal arm falls between your shaking legs and he cups your sex hard, making you gasp into his mouth.

" That's what I thought. " He said gruffly as he pulled away from your lips.

" Now turn around. I ain't tellin' you again. "

And you did. You moved so quickly that it made you dizzy. The second you had bent over, he was placing his metal hand on your back, holding you down firmly that way you couldn't move. You gulped hard and your nails dug into your back the moment you felt him slide back into your pulsing pussy. He didn't even give you time to adjust to him or a single second to breathe before he was going back into fast and hard.

You could barely hold onto anything; the best you had was the hanging piece of his tie that was wrapped around your wrists. Your tears started back up again when he grabbed a fist of your hair, pulling your head back as he pounded into you from behind. Your shoulder shuddered, your wet eyelashes fluttering shut as you let him take you.

Everything felt so warm, so tingly and oh so perfect. You couldn't help the absolutely pathetic, cock hungry sounds that were coming out of you; a little chat of the word " yes. "

And then he let go of your hair and he somehow found a way to go even faster. You squealed, your body jerking upward, almost trying to get away from him again--but he pinned you back down because the both of you knew that wasn't what you really wanted.

" You're going to fucking apologize. To me and to my aide. " He told you, again with the same harsh tone that made you pussy flutter. You bit your lip, almost not letting your next words, but they slipped out anyways.

" He wouldn't let me in! " You wailed, your fingers flexing outward when he cock began hitting your sweet spot, your words and moans coming out in stutters. Bucky sighed, slowing down a bit.

" Are we really going to do this again? "

He stopped completely, and he moved his vibranium hand from your back to the curve of your ass. You immediately knew what that meant, and out of fear of that happening, you started shaking your head frantically, throaty protests leaving your lips.

" No, no, daddy I'll be good-- "

" Have you not learned enough? " He whispered in your ear, the cold metal of his hand sending shivers down your spine.

" I'm sorry! " You cried, your toes curling into your heels, your nails digging so deeply into your palm that you were sure it would draw blood. Despite your apology, Bucky's flesh arm came around your throat--not squeezing enough to brutally choke you but enough to make you squirm.

" Oh yeah? " His mouth ghosted over your ear, his warm breath tickling your skin. " What are you sorry for? " He inquired, his hand still on your ass but prepared to strike Incase you pulled something.

" I'm sorry for defying you. " You sobbed, lowering your head into the table, your hot laboured breath and tears implanting a little wet spot on the table beneath you.

" and? "

" And for hitting your aide because he wouldn't let me in. " You admitted embarrassingly, your legs clenching together, your heart racing excitedly with the idea that he was going to spank you.

But instead, you felt his arms slowly unwrapping around your body. Relief filled your body, and you exhaled deeply. Bucky slowly started rocking his hips forward, making a small moan leave your lips as pleasure electrified your body.

His hands ran across your hips, and he took them in the palm of his hands, a sign that he was about to go faster. You heald your breath, expecting the worse, but all he said was, " Good girl. That wasn't so hard now, hmm? " But just because he was being nice to you in the moment didn't mean that he was going to be nice to you later, and it definitely didn't mean that he wasn't upset with you anymore.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Welcome back to another episode of "Birds incredibly niche aus that are almost definitely inspired off of some shit that happened to her"

On today's episode, I bring you; Disgruntled donations attendant Kakashi and "keeps bringing shit I can't fucking accept" Obito

(What is a donations attendant? Basically the person who works in the back rooms of good will who accepts donations from people who swing by with them. Lots of lifting heavy shit into boxes and moving furniture, lots of telling people "ma'am, that's a bunch of rusty nails. I can't accept that.")

Anyways.

Donations attendant Kakashi.... I think he works with Yamato and Shisui + Itachi are also there somewhere. (Team ro content...oughh...) Sarutobi is his shitty annoying boss

Kakashi is built like a stick and looks fucking anemic, so he's always getting people wary of handing him heavy things to lift, or offering to help— which is only actually helpful like 10% of the time and mildly patronizing the other 90%

Still, others can't help but worry

The actual point of this au is just Obito continuously coming by with things Kakashi can't actually accept and deriving way too much joy from making Kakashi explain why

He is pulling up with a truck bed loaded with just straight up rusty metal and going whatever do you mean owo ??? When Kakashi goes "Obito what the fuck."

He shows up with a mattress covered in suspicious red stains. They can't accept mattresses anyways, the stains are him going the extra mile.

Or he shows up when the store is closed just to drop bags of random crap and broken furniture on their back porch so Kakashi has to sort through it first thing in the morning.

^ on that note, multiple times Kakashi will reject whatever Obito brought in only for Obito to go "oh that's ok, I'll just bring it in again when you're gone, teehee <3"

Just this silent war between them with Obito continuously showing up with increasingly concerning things just to piss off Kakashi

It's incredibly unclear if they're actually friends or not. Yamato, Itachi and Shisui have a bet going on what the fuck their history and relationship is supposed to be. Shisui thinks they're friends, Yamato thinks they're enemies. Quietly, Itachi thinks they might be dating.

(The answer is all three and none of them at once)

I think Obito is actually taking unwanted trash from other Akatsuki members for this. He ran out of weird, useless, suspicious and / or dangerous shit to try and donate in that first month— he's been offering to take out the others trash since he ran out

Hidan especially is happy to give him things he doesn't want (most of it is blood stained. "Dont worry, Tobi" he says "the blood isnt mine!" "Oh yeah Kakashi will love this.")

Kakuzu asks if there's money involved in the disposal then gets disinterested when he learns there isn't

Konan once gives him a live bomb.

Itachi has yet to admit he knows Obito outside of work. (He is going out of his way to not be there when Obito comes by to bother Kakashi)

Uhhh something something then they angrily make out over the haunted dolls Obito brought in from Sasori (they weren't "haunted enough" for him to keep)