#As writers block moves in and out of my body

[jangmo-othewarrior]

Out of context memes about my latest fic because even if I write slow fic don't leave the brain

Plus a Me at work bonus:

[cosmictheo]

𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 | hwang in-ho

( gif credits to @lalaray )

—summary: for some reason, player 001 seems to like you a little too much, way more than you think. amongst the chaos after the mingle game, he gets closer to you. —pairing: hwang in-ho/young-il/player 001 x female!reader —word count: 4.5k —warnings: bro has a lot of names, +18, smut !!! (minors dni), most definitely ooc!in-ho, descriptions of the reader having female genitalia, some porn with some plot, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, slight voyeurism? (a guard outside the bathroom listening all the tea💀), sub in-ho!!!, obsessive, possessive behavior, mentions of stalking, slight manipulation, in-ho being a slut for the reader, they want each others bodies so bad, panic attack, blood, killing, yk usual squid game stuff.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ✶ part one ── part two

The first thing you saw were Young-il's eyes, and then you sensed his hands resting on your shoulders, a subtle touch but one that struck your entire core, sending shivers up and down your spine, snapping you out of the trance of shock, drawing you back to reality and back to him.

“Hey, hey, shhh...” he spoke softly, leaning close to you, making all you focused on was him, his voice, his eyes, the way his lips uttered your name. Him, him, him...

“Young-il?” you breathed out, matching your respiration to his ever-calm one.

He nodded his head slightly, his fingers stroking your shoulders soothingly. “You're okay. You did so good. It's over now” his soft whispers felt like an anchor back to earth, anchors you were clinging to with all your might.

“I got you” he assured you, helping you to your feet again. It was only then that you noticed that you were still in the room set of the third game, there was only you and him left in the arena, and the multitude of bodies sprawled around the bloodstained floor, of course. Noticing your gaze drift to the dead people, his hand lifted to your chin, standing right in front of you to block your field of vision and reduce it to just him, his serene face and piercing eyes, “Just look at me, angel. Keep those pretty eyes on me, yeah?”

He delicately pleaded you, his thumb tracing patterns of grazing caresses on the skin of your chin, treating you as carefully as possible. 

And you complied, of course, succumbing to the gentle darkness contained within his eyes. Like a little lamb falling into the wolf's trap.

“There you are,” a little, honest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

A couple of guards were standing near you, watching you in silence and strangely, allowing Young-il to comfort and help you during your panic attack. The first one you had since you had arrived in the horrifying place, you hadn't cracked once, holding a tough and fearless armor.

“You are safe with me. Nothing will happen to you,” his other hand moved down from your shoulder through your arm, igniting a warm flush on your skin under the passage of his palm, all the way down to encounter yours, his fingers intertwining between yours. “I'll make sure of that, okay?”

You merely manage a trembling nod, holding his gaze. His reassuring, gentle demeanor was all you needed at that moment, in that strange place, full of strangers, he seemed to be the only familiar sight to you, the light among all the ruthless darkness. And his face, exuding concern, completely captured your heart.

Young-il offered you that one protector figure you always needed, that someone to rely on and trust even in your darkest moments.

“Come with me, please” one of the guards, the one with a square outlined on his mask, interrupted your moment, stepping up beside you, his gun pointed at the ground and not at either of you, thank goodness. His voice held a diplomatic, yet polite tone, glancing at the two of you. Young-il glanced at him with a scowl on his face, not too happy that the guard had popped onto the scene, apparently, his gaze went ice cold in the span of a millisecond, “Sir, miss, you need to go back to the main room with the other players.”

“The lady needs to freshen up a bit, could I accompany her to the bathrooms?” Young-il asked— no, rather, he actually demanded of the armed guard, his demeanor shifting to an authoritative one, straightening up and looking at the masked man with imposing eyes.

The guard looked from Young-il to you and back to him, finally nodding his head just once after a few seconds of contemplation, looking at him too long, nearly as if he was considering Young-il's expression, “Of course. Come with me, please.”

You did not decide to comment on the strange behavior of the guard, even they had been acting like human beings, empathetic and considerate. You really couldn't think of anything much at all, all you could focus on was Young-il's hand placed on your lower back as you walked together through the winding, ridiculously colorful corridors and staircases inside the seemingly infinite building.

His touch had your mind a fuzzy blur and the panic and self-doubt in your veins had already been well forgotten, replaced by a state of constant flushing, feeling so small next to him. The feeling was a good one, though. Definitely.

Ever since you had met him he had seemed to have a special liking for you, always making sure you were safe and secure, putting you above the others, making you feel protected and seen. Before every game he made sure he stayed by your side, willing to take whatever risks were necessary for both of you to come out of it alive. Gi-hun had told you a couple of times that he liked you, much more than a friend, but you refused, huffing that it wasn't the place to think about that, much less regarding a man who was married, supposedly. The two of you had really bonded so well, as if you had somehow known each other for a very long time before this.

Once you were in the bathrooms, Young-il closed the door behind both of you, leaving the square guard just outside, and then guided you towards the sinks, opening one so you could take a sip of water.

“Let me...” he quietly whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his turquoise tracksuit and soaking his hands for a few seconds before raising them to your face, running his fingers gently across your cheekbones, removing traces of blood droplets that had been lucky enough to land on your skin, he thought to himself. For some reason, everything felt more intimate than it should have.

You stood in silence, watching him with big, attentive eyes as he wiped your face delicately, as if your skin were the finest porcelain. All that could be heard for a few moments was the water running from the sink and the thundering beat of your heart, desperate to flee out of your chest and leap into his.

“Young-il?”

“Hm?” he hummed, very much focused on cleaning your face, his countenance encouraged you to ask him anything you wanted, it was peaceful and gentle.

“Why do you care so much about me?” you dared to ask him, in a low tone, brave enough to hold his gaze, which softened at your question.

He held back his hands, pulling them away from your face very slowly, analyzing your flushed face for a few moments, contemplating an answer.

“You're special. Very different from the others.”

Young-il sympathized with you, with your history, your person. Usually when he looked at you, he saw his old self, from before all this. He saw in you the good side of things, your good heart, your innocence and kindness, you were much more than a pretty face. He could see past your usual gloomy and pouty face, past your sharp and too cunning eyes, you were too much for that place. And that's why he intended to take you out of there and keep you with him, to have you by his side to care for you and provide for you.

He was excited about the idea of getting to know you further, like a new game in which he had to crack his way through. And In-ho, he was good at games.

You blushed slightly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “Special?”

Young-il spun around, allowing you to see his side profile as he washed his hands in the sink, concealing the impulse to smirk as he noticed the immediate effect his words had on you. He had you right where he wanted you. 

Now he wasn't wearing his usual dark mask, capable of covering his each and every emotion, no, now his expressions and gestures were for everyone to see, so he had to try a little harder than usual to be cautious. As you too were very careful and cautious, always attentive to your surroundings, you had figured out the objective of the last games as soon as you arrived at the arenas. It had been a record, no other player had been as interesting and quick-witted as you. You only needed a couple of minutes, a scan through the walls, the equipment brought by the guards, and you already had the answer. You were a prodigy. Not even he knew what you were doing in there to begin with, when you should have been in the best university.

You would definitely be a favorite of the filthy V.I.P.'s and that, for some reason, made him uneasy.

“Mhm...” he hummed once again, wetting his face now, refreshing himself as well, thoughtfully, “That makes you dangerous.”

His eyes held a slight playfulness as they met yours now, and his pupils expanded as he watched you step closer to him, unwrapping your sweatshirt from around your waist and lifting it up to his face, gently wiping and drying his skin with it, running the cloth carefully over his cheekbones, forehead and chin, drying every drop of water, sweat and blood that rolled across his skin.

“Why?” you tilted your head, big, interested eyes watching him intently as you carefully wiped his cheeks.

Young-il gazed at you for a few seconds, feeling himself swooning at the careful way you were treating him. He cleared his voice subtly before replying to you, in all honesty, “You're the only one I care about in here.”

Usually In-ho encountered with people who looked at him with fear, with trembling hands, hesitant voice and submissive manners. Most guards were like that with him, he was the Front Man after all. Just a movement of his fingers, a word emitted by his voice, was enough for the whole building to move at his command, for anyone to race to do what he ordered.

But you... you simply reached out to him, touched him, treated him with care, with gentleness and softness, looking at him with warm and sympathetic eyes.

“No other person makes me feel both weak and strong” he rasped out, quietly, his warm breath brushing against your lips, which gaped at his words, his choice of words, “That's dangerous for a man like me”

You motioned to pull your hand away from his face, but he was quick to grab your wrist, stopping the movement.

“Young-il, you're married, I can't—” you hurriedly opted to go the right way, trying to talk some sense into him, shaking your head softly, blinking several times within a single minute. Your heart was already starting to beat faster and he could feel it through his thumb placed on your pulse.

He shook his head, seeking your gaze, his fingers gently squeezing your wrist, not wanting you to move too far away from him.

“I'm not married. I lied” he revealed to you, almost desperately. There was no reason for him to lie to you on that, because he knew that you were someone he could trust, and that everything that was going to happen there, would remain within those walls. A little complicity. A minor crack in the script, in the whole scheme that he had been working on for weeks.

You let him grab your wrist and the jacket of the tracksuit you had previously held in your hand fell to the floor, making a muffled noise that echoed off the quiet walls of the bathrooms. Your brow furrowed slightly, not understanding what he was talking about now.

“You lied? Why?” you asked in a low tone, as if anyone could hear you. It seemed, at least it felt like too private and all too intimate a conversation for anyone to overhear.

“I didn't want to push you away and scare you with my... life resolutions” Young-il lowered your hand now joined with his, looking at you with brighter eyes than usual, “It was the wiser thing to do.”

“Resolutions?” all you appeared to be doing was asking and asking, and In-ho, right there and then, was willing to answer all you wanted to know. Your tone of voice drifted into playfulness, void of judgment or disgust, on the contrary, you reassured him, “All of us here have made bad choices in our lives, that's why we're here. We're all the villains of society”

“Villains...” he repeated, savoring the word and approving it with a gentle nod of his head. Then he tugged on your hand, lifting it to his face, placing an affectionate kiss on your knuckles, doing all of that while keeping eye contact, “But you're not bad, not like them, not like me. You're just so good, angel.” There was the petname again, and it held the exact same effect as when he first called you that, making you blush softly, your legs trembling just barely, your core reacting instantly, your body succumbing to his, longing for him.

His fingers caressed the palm of your hand tenderly, “You have no blood on your pretty hands, no perversity in your little head, no, you're a good girl. You always have been, right?”

He read you like an open book, even though you had been cautious and reserved since the games had begun, you had not let anyone in, much less pass over the walls you had built around yourself. Yet in the span of a few minutes, Young-il had ripped them apart, tearing his way through them, into you.

You caught a glimpse of pity in his eyes.

“You don't have a debt, you just don't have anyone out there waiting for you, to take care of you, provide for you” At his words, you gulped, watching him kiss your knuckles once again, making your heart race, then his lips kissed your pulse on your wrist, and after that, he tugged you closer, placing your palm against his chest, making you feel the beat of his heart as well, “I could be the one. I could take care of you, protect you, give you everything you want. There wouldn't be anything I wouldn't do for you and those eyes. You'd just have to stick by my side, look pretty for me, hm?”

In-ho had been watching you, of course, ever since you had met Gon Ji-cheol in the subway, ever since you had encountered Gi-hun. He knew your life completely, he had grown obsessed with you. You were everything he needed, everything he wanted, the missing piece in his new life. The anchor he desperately needed, yearned to hold on to.

And to your flesh he clung, his lips making a path of light, but tentative kisses on the back of your hand, across your skin, up your arm.

“Young-il...” you breathed out his name a bit stunned by the whole sudden confession. At the sound, he felt his limbs tremble, his lips had reached your bicep and it wasn't until he kissed your shoulder that he opened his eyes so he could look at you with raw adoration, his breath joining yours at the closeness.

“I'll get you out of here, safe and sound. I won't let them touch a hair on your head” he promised, reassuring you, pulling you in, inviting you to slip into his orbit, “I just need you to trust me”

Your eyelashes grazed your cheeks as you blinked slowly, your hand rising to his shoulder, thumb brushing his neck, “How will you do that?”

“Trust me” he pleaded, staring at you for a few seconds before leaning down into you, both of his hands landing on your waist, holding you against him, his face nestled into your neck, he began to press his lips into your skin, kissing it. You close your eyes in utter pleasure, feeling yourself getting all aroused, suffocated by all the attention, the sweet words, his desire for you. 

“Would you do that for me?” he rasped out against your skin before kissing it, sucking lightly, “...hm?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, his lips rapidly kissing your throat, and suddenly, everything was him, his mouth, his breath, his hands squeezing your waist. Him... 

You lifted your chin, allowing him more access to the soft flesh of your neck, seductive lips exploring every inch of your skin.

“Yes”

“That's my girl” he cooed with tenderness, kissing your neck one last time before pulling away from it so he could look at you, not even letting you breathe the air that had slipped out of your lungs for the entirety of his doing, before he was kissing your lips like a starving man.

He breathed against your lips in between frantic open-mouth kisses. He almost felt himself melt as his ears were blessed by the delightful little noises leaking out of your mouth, panting and low moans escalating up your throat.

“Young-il…” you whispered his name, your voice sheepishly lowering as you noticed the look in his eyes, your hands clasped around his neck, fingers trembling from the thrill and sudden shame that shook you.

“Jump” he said, his tone of voice heavy with command, his hands reaching around your waist and down onto your ass to lift you up effortlessly onto the side of the sinks, balancing himself tight against you in between your legs, which wrapped around his hips and pressed him further into you, under an instinctive impulse.

You panted against his lips as you felt his erection against the inside of your thigh, his body eagerly surrendering to yours in desperation.

His commanding voice and face were something that really turned you on even more, if that was even possible. It wasn't usual for him to be this stern with you, he was usually like that with the other players, with strangers, always cautious, quiet and tactful, meticulous of his every step and every word.

“W-wait— we're going to fuck in h-here?” you somehow managed to asked in between frantic, breathless kisses, barely opening your eyes, catching him with an expression of raw lust, pupils fully dilated now.

Young-il smirked playfully, allowing you to catch your breath for a moment, hands caressing your skin appreciatively beneath the fabric of your shirt, before dropping down and laying on either side of you against the sinks, veins bulging against his skin, “You want to do it in the other room? I don't mind having an audience.”

His little tease and the way he tilted his head made you blush furiously, fingers nuzzling the back of his neck, curling between locks of his hair.

“The guard will hear us...” you tried to talk some sense into him, whispering quietly to him, leaning your head even closer, as if you were little kids sharing a forbidden secret.

But Young-il stood his ground, kissing your lips shortly, to reassure you, noticing the worry in your big eyes, “Don't worry about him, don't worry about anyone,” his hand snaked between your bodies, spreading your legs a little further apart, “He won't hear a thing, they never hear or see anything. Not if they are ordered not to”

One of his hands reached up, stroking your hair soothingly, sensing the softness of your locks between his fingers. You were perfect, perfect. And he just knew he could lose all track of time, if it meant letting himself fall into you, touching you, feeling you, worshipping you.

"Lift your hips for me, yeah?”

Obedient, you lifted your hips just a little, letting him pull the hem of your tracksuit pants down your legs, taking it out of the way of obstructing his path into you.

“I know you want this as much as I do, you don't have to say it,” he cheekily smiled, looking up at you once he had lowered your pants down until they were at the level of your ankles. On his journey upwards, he kissed the side of your leg, your knees and your thighs without taking his eyes off yours, he was ruthless and you looked so pretty to him.

“Your body speaks to me, it has spoken to me since the first game. I've noticed the way you look at me. You are a naughty girl.”

You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes and pulling your head back as his hand dipped into the center in between your legs, feeling the wetness of your panties and the heat, your cunt pulsing around nothing. Your hands, now on either side of you clasped onto the ceramics of the sinks, your back arching beautifully.

You can't help the way your body trembles, flutters and simply submits when his finger rubs your swollen clit through your panties, feeling your face and your whole body flush, feeling a sudden wave of embarrassment at the magnitude of his words and the enormity of all that was happening.

“Look at you,” he cooed, eyes locked on your pussy once he had pulled down your panties with precise but desperate motions, ran his index and middle fingers through your slick folds, making you moan, “you're soaking wet for me, just for my kisses? Fuck, you are so beautiful. My pretty, dirty girl. Letting herself be touched by a stranger.... but then again, not a stranger at all, hm?” his voice almost sounded mocking when it reached your ears, “I need to taste you,” his gaze moved up to your face, and he looked nearly pleading, he licked his lips in anticipation, fingers sinking just barely into the small entrance of your core, “may I?”

“Please—” You at once nodded feverishly, almost whimpering over the words that rushed into your throat, “Yes! Please, Young-il, please—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, slouching closer, sinking right between your legs, his hands lingered around your knees, squeezing them against him with a possessive hold.

“In-ho” he corrected you, flushed against the skin of your inner thigh, pressing kisses along it, all too drunk already by your intoxicating scent, his mind going fuzzy with desire, the urge to make you his, “Call me In-ho”

You didn't even pause to doubt what he was telling you, Hell, you'd call him God if he asked you to. You were in the palm of his hand, on full display. His lips kissed your sex and you mentally thanked fate for putting you there, with him.

“Say it” he ordered, just before he plunged his tongue deep between your folds, knocking all the little breath left in your lungs. “Say my name, angel” the vibration of his voice against the most sensitive flesh of your body clenched the knot deep in the bottom of your belly.

“In-ho” you named him between shaky whimpers and little moans, like a prayer. One of your hands dropped to his head, fingers sinking into the black of his hair, tugging it and making him hiss against your cunt. “In-ho...”

In-ho, In-ho, In-ho...

“Good girl”

God.

He ate your pussy like it was his very last meal, lapping and drinking in everything you had to offer, every bit of wetness from you. The slurping noise burst through every wall of the bathrooms and suddenly, you didn't give a shit if the guard outside heard you, you didn't give a shit if all the guards heard you. 

They could be right there watching you, you couldn't care less, it wouldn't change the way you tugged at his hair, how your eyes rolled back and the way he was gazing up at you from below, kneeling perfectly between your legs as if they were the gates to heaven.

His tongue seemed familiar, his fingers squeezing your thighs, his eyes locked with yours, his lips kissing your sex with no breath, all the breath he needed was you. He didn't feel like a stranger, your body acquainted him, perhaps in another life. It all felt like deja vu, a reminiscence.

Your muscles tensed and he felt it through his tongue. You were about to cum, and your throat felt scratchy from all the moans and whimpers rasping through it.

“Gonna cum, baby?” he coaxed, pulling away from your cunt for just a couple of seconds, sneaking a hand in and pressing just barely at your entrance with a couple of fingers, kissing your clit and sucking it just right, “Yes you are,” he grumbled endearingly, his tongue tracing caresses all around your clit now, looking up at you.

“You're so tight” he marveled, watching in awe as your cunt eagerly attempted to suck in his fingertips, clenching and struggling to fit them. “Look at her, so eager... such a good girl, aren't you?” Once again he leaned into your clit, kissing, sucking and caressing it with his tongue, already too pussy drunk to stop. “Cum for me. Cum on my tongue, yeah, just like that”

“Holy shit, In-ho—” you hiccupped, feeling tears blur your vision, a wave of pleasure unleashing from deep in your belly. You moaned his name like a prayer, pressing his head closer to your cunt on an instinctive impulse, “Mmph!”

Maybe it was seeing his chin and mouth all dripping wet of you, or his dark, deep eyes marveling at how your pussy squeezed tight around his fingers, or his other hand sliding up under your shirt, finding one of your breasts and flicking your nipple. Maybe it was all of it, either way, you were cumming like you had never cum before. Your whole body was shaking and succumbing to the overstimulation. Succumbing to him.

In-ho gulped down everything you gave him like magic waters.

“You taste better than I imagined,” he confided, licking his index and middle finger as well, catching every trace there was of you that he could possibly consume as if it were honey.

Then, he kissed your pussy once more before standing up, sending shockwaves of electricity through your whole body with his touch, his hands settled on your hips, holding you so you wouldn't fall.

And he just smirked. He moved closer to you and kissed your mouth, making you savor your own taste through him, his hands appreciatively caressing your thighs, swiftly pulling up your panties back on.

“You're perfect, perfect,” he smoothed against your lips, his forehead leaning close to yours and he kissed you again, praising you, holding you tight in the afterglow of your orgasm, “My girl, my favorite girl, so good for me"

“We need to get back before someone starts to get suspicious,” he mumbled softly, helping you to your feet and pulling up your pants, always holding you with his hands and strong arms.

“B-but,” you retorted, your hands gripping his shoulders, still feeling your legs a little wobbly and unsteady, your dilated pupils and half-closed eyes following him as he arranged you, “I want to-”

He interrupted you, grinning warmly, stroking a lock of your hair away from your forehead before kissing your lips once more, as if closing a deal, a promise, “There will be time. Be patient, princess. We don't want the others to find out about my favoritism, do we?” seeing you still looking a bit confused, and still denying with your head, In-ho smiled playfully, “That would be very unprofessional of me, so this will be our secret”

This time you kissed him, sealing the secret.

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (One)

Note: I'm having the WORST writer's block now so pls excuse my lack of proper writing... I'm currently sitting in front of a beach writing in hopes that ill gain inspo

CW: Angst, mentions of sex, jealous/possessive Simon, PLS DONT LEAVE YOUR KIDS IN THE CAR !!! Or break into someone’s house

Inspired by: Ex!Husband Simon

PART TWO

Simon stared at you. The shades of his eyes simmering into endless voids of obsidian, blonde lashes moulded against his greased lids, the residue of the perpetual torture his body had succumbed to during deployment.

“You want a divorce?” He spoke, voice deep as he flickered between your shaking heads, sweat soiling into the papers gripped firmly and your swollen face, cheeks feverish with a red hue, eyes even more so.

You held back a rough sob, throat stripped of all moisture evident in your hoarse voice as you spoke, “Yes, Simon. I think it would be best for our family… for us.”

He scoffed. “You think the best thing for our family is to separate?”

“We already pretty much are. You’re away for days, weeks, months at a time. We’re hardly a family and it’s difficult to explain to the children why I’m crying.”

“Ok then.”

That was it. You would admit, it stung. His lacklustre tone felt like a stab in the gut, the blade drenched with anthrax as it reared blistering sores internally, the effects having shown through your putrid complexion. Your skin was dull, practically lifeless, the only living form of you grew day by day through the darkening of eyebags that almost made you look apocalyptic.

It had been 12 months of separation, officially 8 being legally divorced. You kept his last name, the permanent burn of hearing Mrs Riley still searing through you with every syllable, yet you feel it would only hurt you more if they said Ms.

Simon was often away now, and the minimal family time he used to get felt pointless as the shabby apartment he moved into after the sudden interference of your mind-boggling news barely fit the two kids you shared. His body felt more relentless on him, the taunting of his mind fulgurated the inoperative reality that he would come home to you, to his family.

His voice, almost like it dropped an octave had grown richer in aggression, tormenting those he deemed suitable, both with his tongue and with his bruised knuckles, an oil painting of blue and purple hues radiating across the pale flesh as he shrugged it off to his team as “pushing himself and others to do better”.

Couldn’t you realise your mistake? Wouldn’t you prefer crying in his arms about his absence than never having it fulfilled again?

As he looked around the bleak environment, tan stained walls revolting the creaking mattress he had brought someone home to, someone who wasn’t you. It made him feel sick like a viral infection had slunk its way into his bloodstream as he laid next to a woman that failed to make his cock throb, endless images of you sprawled out under him flickering. No wonder he called out your name instead.

You felt the familiar shake of your hands every time your phone dinged; Simon’s dreary tone was evident through his dry “On the way” text. You ushered a day of your children’s life into their cartoon-themed backpacks, innocent smiles adorning their skin, doe-like eyes of brown, far too familiar to Simon’s staring up at you.

The sound of his car scraping into your paved driveway almost made you feel like throwing up, the nerves of seeing him combined with the already present pit of anxiety due to your date later turning you into one big shaky mess as you brushed it off as “too much caffeine”.

The echo of his car door slamming shut rung through your ears, staining you with the reiteration that your ex-husband was now at your door, heavy fists knocking upon the wood. The image you saw of him in your mind morphed back to reality as you stared at him, a blank expression on your face.

“Hi, love.”

“Hi, Simon.”

Your frown was clear, the pet name you were so used to becoming a distant memory in the past few months. It was a hole you were attempting to fill, to clear yourself away from his teasing tongue and faux impression of a healthy relationship. You were divorced for a reason, you knew that, but as you gazed upon the lack of life in his skin, it was almost like he was holding a mirror up to you.

“Daddy!” You watched as your 5-year-old, Ella, practically leapt into his hefty frame, his hands coiling around her like second nature. You could feel his warmth, the heat that would build in your stomach when you felt those same digits touch you.

“Hi sweetheart,” his voice gruff, yet tone lighter as he placed a delicate kiss on the skin of her forehead, “You miss me?”

She nodded, her face buried in the hem of his neck as your other child cooed from the bouncy chair, tubby legs attempting to wheel himself to the door.

“There’s my boy,” Simon practically cooed as he placed Ella down, bounding inside as he lifted the toddler out, grabby arms reaching out to pull at Simon’s locks, gentle tugs causing you to laugh.

Your voice cut through the scene like glass. Why would you want to destroy such a happy moment? Weren’t you supposed to be reuniting? Just say it, tell Simon you want him to come home, that you need him.

“This is Ella’s bag,” you speak, holding up the pink Minnie Mouse bag, “And this is Toby’s.” Your son giggled as he muffled out the words, “Transformers”.

Simon nodded, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

Ella practically screeched, “Mummy’s going on a date!” The thrill of her laughter that followed only seemed to make the situation more awkward.

“A date?” Simon’s voice was deadly, the hair raising on your arms as you shook your head, a tight smile on your suddenly dry lips.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just catching up with an old colleague of mine.”

“But he’s a boy, Mummy,” Ella giggled. Who was raising your daughter to be such a big mouth? Your face formed an annoyed look, eyebrows raising as a line of wrinkles crinkled against your forehead, your pointer fingers massaging your temples.

“An old colleague?” Simon practically gasped. Had he met him at your old work Xmas parties?

“Let’s get you guys in the car.” You fumbled with Toby’s car seat as you strapped him in, your nimble fingers shaking with anxiety before you shut the door, pressing a kiss against the window before wiping away the minimal residue of dirt. Gross.

“Who is he?” His tone was acerbic like he was looking for an argument. How dare you try and replace him? He was your husband, the father of your two kids? Have you seen this random man before? Had he fucked you?

“God, Simon-“

“Who is he?” Simon was relentless, bullying his way into getting the answers as his arms folded across his chest, tattoos practically screaming at you too.

“His name’s Andrew. I ran into him at a coffee shop a few weeks back and he just wanted to catch up. That’s it.”

A loud scoff sounded in the air. “You mean that geezer from that corporate job you hated? The one who didn’t know it was weird to blatantly stare down your dress when you were standing next to your fucking husband?”

“He didn’t stare down my dress! You’re not my husband anymore, Simon. I can see who I want.”

“I don’t want our children to grow up thinking they have multiple dads.”

You’ll admit, that stung.

“Multiple dads? You’re out of your mind. The only reason they would ever believe they have multiple dads is if their real one stopped showing up. And where have you been, Simon? When have you shown up?”

Simon held his tongue, the warmth of the metallic taste gashing through his teeth as he practically snarled past you. “I’ll bring them back tomorrow.”

The dress you wore was practically suffocating you as you tucked your stomach in. Simon never minded the change in your figure after motherhood, he found himself liking it even more. He loved knowing that his seed put you through that, that he made you swell with his children, and he brought out the glow in your cheeks and the delicate stretch marks that laced your hips.

Andrew was nice. His tone was comforting as he walked to your door, ushering you to his car as he insisted you could order whatever you wanted. He was handsome, the salt and pepper hues of his hair settling your insecurity.

“We’ll take the Pinot Noir,” he spoke, looking at you with an almost arrogant sheer in his blue eyes. You only liked white. Simon knew that just like he knew everything about y-

You’re not with Simon anymore. You had to realise that. Maybe that’s why you brought Andrew home, let him shove his cock (that was a lot smaller than what you were used to) inside your heat, as you let out moans you had mimicked from the porn you watched with the actor that resembled far too much of your ex-husband.

Simon's fingers gripped the steering wheel early the next morning, your two children snuggled up in the backseat as he drove back to his old house, your old home. He wasn’t a man who gave up easy, he would show you, prove to you that you made a mistake. You needed each other.

Hold on. You don’t drive a red car?

His car lurched into the entrance of your home, nearly ramming into the garage as he shoved it in park, rolling down the two back windows slightly for air as he dug around in the small side compartment of his car.

The familiar gold key he had stolen from you the night he packed up all his stuff stared back at him, practically egging him on. Go on Simon, march in there. So he did. His hand rattled against the door knob, glancing back to peak into the car for a second before he slammed the door shut.

Your body froze. Were you being robbed? No. It was only Simon. A very angry-looking Simon. You stood, the white sheet barely shielding your naked body as he took in the sight of the man next to you, his hands wrapping around his shoulders as he practically ripped him out of bed, flinging him onto the floor as he grunted, eyes reared with hatred.

“Simon, what the fuck are you doing? WHERE ARE THE KIDS?”

Andrew groaned, on the floor, covering his groin as Simon chucked the masculine clothes at his head, the thin boxers soiled across the man’s scalp as he trembled.

“Our kids are asleep in the car, waiting for their Mummy to come to the zoo with them.” Simon’s words were despicable, laced with an acrimonious tone, small particles of spit seething through his lips as stared at you.

He turned to the man, a giant frame staggering over the top of him. “Get the fuck out, and if you wake up our kids when you go past, I will personally put a bullet straight in the middle of your skull,” he said, pushing a thick digit against his forehead as Andrew rushed out, clothes barely on before you felt the front door shut, a cry of apologises leaving your lips as you tried to assist him but Simon only held you back, a tight grip coiling around your arm.

“What the fuck was that? How’d you get in?” You couldn’t even place the words to say, humiliation roaring through you as you snuggled the sheet closer to you, away from his peering eyes.

“It’s time to be a family again, don’t you think love?”

[damiansgoodgirll]

Hiiii!! I hope you’re doing amazing! I’m sorry you’re having a bit of writers block at the moment as I know how difficult that can be!! I saw you opened your requests to see if that would help so I figured I would request something!

Maybe Rhea x Reader, where Reader is also a wrestler and her aesthetic is super girly and cute and bubbly (kinda like Tiffany Stratton) and something about it just draws Rhea in. Like she tried to act like she hates it and doesn’t like Reader, but eventually she just can’t and caves to how adorable Reader is and it brings out Rhea’s sweet side! 🩷

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️nothing major, rhea’s sexual thoughts tho…a lot of fluff and sweet moments, reader being a tease (let’s pretend rhea is still champion here) ‼️

heartbeat

rhea hated when someone tried to take her title away. but she hated even more when you became her main opponent for a title run.

you and the dark haired woman were completely the opposite. you were a face, she was a heel. you wore pink, she wore black. you were kind and loved backstage, she was a menace with anyone who dared to even look into her eyes.

she hated the idea of having to fight with you. she already handled a liv morgan, a tiffany stratton and now she had to face you.

she absolutely despised having you as her main opponent and no matter how many times she tried to resonate with adam, he said that you deserved that title run more than anyone. and she knew it too. she observed you. you were good, you were smart, you worked more on psychological fights than physical fights and for the first time, rhea was afraid.

you and her never really talked outside of the company. she wasn’t in your group and you weren’t in hers.

so the first time you got to share a few words was when you two had a promo and even if rhea looked so intimidating, you were ready for a challenge and you showed her who you really were.

“so you think you can take my title?” she shouted into the mic, staring at you. she looked for something that could have scared you away but she find nothing.

you simply laughed, taking a few steps forward her “i’m damn sure i can” you stated making the crowd cheer.

she was ready to reply back. she was so ready to put you in place but having you so close to her made her freeze. your vanilla scent intoxicating her. your challenging eyes never leaving her face. something about you made her even more interested into this feud. you made her heart beat fast and she couldn’t understand why.

“cat got your tongue, mami?” you teased her, hearing even more chants from the crowd.

“stay out of my way” she said coldly before dropping the mic to the ground and leaving the ring.

as days passed, rhea moved cautiously around you. observing you at the gym, observing the way your body moved inside the ring as you trained. she couldn’t help the filthy thoughts running in her head when she saw the sweat dripping down your body.

watching you fight other opponents and she hated admitting it but she found you extremely attractive. she never imagined herself being attracted by some barbie doll prototype but here she was.

you, flaunting your pink gear, your perfect make up and curled hair, ready to fight liv morgan - once again.

you knew it was going to be an easy match. you fought liv multiple times and you always won but somehow it didn’t go exactly as you planned. sure, you got your win but liv managed to injury you.

rhea watched all the match behind the scenes and a lump form in her throat.

how the heck did liv manage to injury you? she was supposed to keep you safe inside the ring just like you did with her and instead she fucked up and probably costed you a title run.

she should be happy that you weren’t her opponent any longer but she was actually looking for a chance to fight you.

you struggled walking back, helped by some trainers, they let you sit comfortably in the medical area as a doctor checked upon on you.

sprained ankle.

a couple of weeks of no fighting, no training at the gym and no title run opportunity. this was definitely not what you were expecting.

as you slowly walked back to the locker room, you were stopped by the infamous rhea ripley.

“hey…” she greeted you, making you look at her with a confused expression.

“i’m out of your way now, are you happy?” you sarcastically asked her but you saw how serious she was.

“no, not really…i was really looking forward to fight you, can’t believe im stuck again with that mid morgan girl” she said, clearly mad.

her words made you laugh “it won’t be for too long, give me a month to recover and then i’ll happily pin you down the floor” you teased, seeing her blush.

her strong facade fell when you talked dirty to her. she felt her cheeks burn but she tried to keep up with you “i can’t wait for that moment to come then…”

you were absolutely in for whatever rhea was trying to do with you “challenge accepted then, see you in a month” you winked but as soon as you tried to walk again, a sharp pain rang through your foot, making you flinch a little.

“hey, you okay?” rhea immediately asked when she saw the pain expression in your eyes.

“i have to get used to walk with just one foot” you laughed.

“here, let me help you…” her hand softly moved around your hip, helping you back to the locker room so you could gather your belongings and then go straight to the hotel. she walked slowly, never forcing you or your body.

“i didn’t know rhea was a kind one” you joked, making her laugh.

“i’m not. i never liked you y/n…this bubbly energetic person you are, i always hated it…too much pink, too much kindness” she whispered.

“why is it in the past?”

“because somehow your annoying personality caught my attention” she confessed, making you look at her with a teasing face.

“that’s good to keep in mind next time i’m facing you in the ring…” you said making her roll her eyes.

once you got to the locker room, rhea packed all of your stuff. your make up, your clothes, your perfume - the vanilla perfume - and she took the bag over her shoulder.

“do you need a ride to the hotel?” she offered and you couldn’t turn her offer down so you agreed.

as you were settled in her car, you found her to be a comforting presence. maybe she really wasn’t the mean one everyone talked about.

before you could speak, metal songs blasted through the speakers and it took you a couple of minutes to realise that you and rhea couldn’t be more different “do you really listen to that?” you asked, a little confused.

“yeah…it’s amazing” she happily said as she drove.

“it’s giving me a headache” you complained, making her roll her eyes for the second time that night.

“what do you listen uh? let me guess? taylor swift?” she said almost too annoyed.

“hey! she’s a good artist! and no, i listen other people too! i listen to people who actually make music and not scream into a microphone for three minutes straight” oh you were so in for a tease right now and seeing how she scrunched her nose made you feel like you were hitting the right buttons.

“let’s not start or i’ll drop you here in the middle of the road” she joked, clearly amused by the whole situation. you ended up sitting there and watching her driving fast around town.

she helped you with the bags and only left your hotel room once she made sure that you were okay. she even left you her phone number so you could call her in case something happened - as she said.

a week has passed and you couldn’t even lie to yourself - you were actually enjoying texting rhea and having random conversations in the middle of the night with her. you remember texting her once you got home and asked her if she wanted to come over as you were bored and reluctantly she accepted.

she would be lying to herself but you attracted her. you were like a magnet and she couldn’t get enough of you. she would help you any time you asked her.

randomly going through your tiktok, you heard the bell ringing and without thinking twice, you slowly got up and opened the door, finding an adorable rhea ripley with junk food in one hand and a pink fluffy blanket in the other.

you looked at her for a second, too stunned to speak.

“you letting me in or are we going to stare at each other all day long?” she asked, her usual sarcastic tone lingering with some sneaky jokes too.

“oh sorry, yeah, come in…i wasn’t expecting you with food and a pink blanket…i actually wasn’t expecting you at all” you joked, trying to ease the tension a little bit because you had no idea why was rhea in your living room now.

“i was at the supermarket and i had my day off, i saw the blanket and i thought you would like it…here” she handed you the blanket almost as she was annoyed by it, trying to maintain her dark and mean side but deep down you knew that she was a softie.

you gladly accepted the gift and invited her to sit on the couch with you “what about the food?” you teased her, seeing her rolling her eyes at any remark you made was now a habit.

“i was hungry and i thought you would like some food too…” she tried so hard not to go soft with you but your smile and bubbly personality were making it hard for her.

“rhea ripley thought of me? i feel honoured” you laughed making her giggle.

“shut up and eat while i pick a movie…” she stated as she started swiping movies catalogue on netflix.

she chose something fun, something romantic, knowing that it was your favourite genre of film.

“i’m pretty sure you’re studying me so in two weeks you know how to make me lose against you for the title run” you joked, making her laugh.

“honey, there’s no way you’re gonna beat my ass during that run, that’s my title and my title only but i’ll happily pin you down” she turned her face to you, a sneaky smirk on her face as her mind fantasised about the idea of having to pin you down, under her body.

“you so sure about that ripley?” you tested her “what if i am the one to pin you down?

rhea wouldn’t mind having you over her to be honest. in any other situation she would have let you being in charge but not when there was her title on the line.

“we will see in a couple of weeks” she winked “now watch the movie before i put some freaky horror on” she teased you knowing how much you hated horror movies.

“okay mami” you whispered making her roll her eyes - again. you displayed the pink blanket over your body and over rhea’s body too “before you say anything, it’s cold outside and i don’t wanna hear you complain for the next two hours” but rhea definitely wasn’t going to complain. she never had you so close, your body was like a magnet and was so close to hers that it was enough to keep her warm. your head softly laid over her shoulder and even if you couldn’t see her, you felt her body relax against you.

maybe she was going to pin you in the ring but you knew who was really in charge outside of the company and seeing her so calm and relaxed in your presence made you feel something different about your friendship, as if there was something more but you couldn’t really point it out.

spending the rest of the night in each other’s company, joking and laughing about the smallest things.

as the second movie of the night ended, you really needed to stretch yourself out as you grew a little uncomfortable sitting for almost four hours in the same position. she helped you standing up and you slowly tested the water, instead of putting your hands around her shoulders as you always did, you put them around her waist.

the height difference between you two was pretty obvious but that didn’t stop you to have your way with her “i have a feeling you feel something for me” you teased her watching her in her eyes.

“i don’t know what you are talking about…” she tried so hard to maintain her composure but she was struggling, especially when she had you so close.

“so what if i asked you to kiss me? would you back up?” you always been a tease but this was something else even for you.

“no…” she whispered, her eyes softly looking down at you.

before she could make any move, you kissed her. your lips meeting her soft ones, a smile pressed on her face as you kept kissing her “i’m definitely gonna pin you rhea” you whispered, making her chuckle.

“keep dreaming barbie” as she grew more comfortable, her hand moved behind your back and pressed you against her body “remember, it’s always monday night mami…” her devious look was back as if you helped her gain her confidence back around you.

“you know…i’m always in for a challenge…”

yeah, maybe she was the rhea ripley but you knew how good you were and being able to tease her and make her so flustered around you was definitely a weapon in your sleeve.

“we will see pretty girl…” falling in love with the enemy wasn’t definitely her plan but somehow you managed to make her heart beat faster anytime you were close and now she felt like she couldn’t get enough of you.

————————————-

i’m receiving a few requests and i’m trying to overcome my writer block 🤞🏼🩷 thank you for your patience and kind words 🩷🩷

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˙⟡ All Yours.

Short Summary: There is nothing unusual about Tom returning late from his meetings. However today, there is something off, something you only notice when he is pressed up against you, waking you from your sleep…

Warnings: 18+ only! slight somno, unprotected p in v, Tom Riddle needs you, use of parseltongue, possessive!Tom

A/N: found this in my drafts. Perfect for writers block season :D

wordcount: 1,4k

You only faintly notice the door to your bedroom creaking open, bed squeaking as he lays down beside you—carefully, so as not to wake you. Tom returning so late is not unusual per se, he’d gone out with his Knights the evening prior—meetings that usually take until the early morning hours. 

Now, you’d normally ask about his day—however, you are just too tired, and instead, your eyes flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep again before you get the chance to do so.

You aren’t sure how long you’ve slept when you wake again—met with darkness as you blink slowly, the only light source being the moon’s subtle white glow as it shines into your shared bedroom. Only then do you notice that your duvet is somewhere further down the bed, a cool breeze of air having goosebumps rise on your skin. But there is something else—the faint touch of Tom’s knuckles trailing up and down your bare thigh. You don’t think all too much of it—not until he bunches the silky material of your nightgown around your hips, that is.

“Tom? What are you—“ you whisper, turning your head slightly in an attempt to look at him, but as soon as he hears the soft sound of your voice, he closes the space between the both of you, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he shifts closer, pressing soft kisses down the side of your neck.

If you weren’t awake before, you definitely are now. His hands explore your still half-covered body, following the soft curve of your hips before finding their way upwards, cupping your breasts, kneading slowly over the thin, silky fabric. Your breath catches at the sudden affection, because yes, you do manage to crack his hard shell from time to time, but this? It’s entirely different from what you are used to.

“I missed you,” he mumbles then, voice low and rough, and just like that he gives you a gentle roll of his hips, letting you feel just how much he really missed you.

“Oh—“ you whimper, attempting to find your voice for a proper response, but a proper response to that turns out to be rather difficult to come up with. “I— missed you too, Tom.” His hand has slipped further upwards in the meantime, tilting your head to grant him better access, sucking purple marks into your neck—and at this point, he’s fully rutting himself against you.

When you try to move just a little, his grip only tightens, practically pinning you against him.

“Mh, stay like this. Be good and stay where I want you.” Tom murmurs, hand wandering to the hem of your nightdress, slipping under the material. His hands are warm, soft, fingertips deliberately grazing over your skin. A soft moan spills from your lips when his hand slips between your legs, caressing the already damp fabric of your lace panties, gently rubbing circles over your still clothed clit. And he groans, groans at the feeling of just how wet and ready you are for him.

He soon shifts behind you, withdrawing his hand as he pushes himself up from the mattress. With a subtle nudge on your inner thigh, Tom has you part your legs for him, and your mind is already caught in a haze, obeying without hesitation. He hooks his fingers into your panties, slipping them down and tossing them aside before he positions himself between your legs.

And then, for the first time that night, his eyes meet yours. Hungry with lust, pupils blown wide, locked onto yours.

“Tom—“ you stammer, hand softly wrapping around his biceps, but he interrupts you with a, for him, rare, passionate kiss.

“Just— take it. Need you to take it for me,” he grunts, his voice still thick with sleep, and you think it might be best if he’d just rest. However, as soon as your lips part to tell him just that, the only sound you manage is a sharp gasp—he presses himself against you, tip swiping through your folds to collect your arousal, cutting you off.

Tom doesn’t wait much longer before he sinks himself into you, slowly, too slowly for your liking, but you cannot get yourself to complain. Not when he stares down at you like he physically needs you, like you are the only one he wants, curls messily falling onto his forehead, lips parted—gasping as he feels you wrapped around his cock so perfectly—just how he has been imagining it the entire evening.

“Tight— fuck, so tight.” He groans, hips now finally flush with yours. His head dips, burying himself in the crook of your neck, and he stills then, granting you the chance to feel all of him—feel the blissful stretch on your walls as he lets you adjust to his size. Though impatience—something Tom usually doesn’t show—gets the better of him, gently rolling his hips against yours, tip brushing against your cervix with every slight thrust.

A feeling that has your walls clamp down around him, eyebrows drawn together, and then finally, finally, he moves, pulling out of you completely just to split you open all over again, and somewhere in between, he must have lost the last bits of restraint he had left, groans spilling freely from his lips, showing you a completely new side of him—raw, passionate, and unrestrained.

“You’d never leave me. I know— you’d never do that to me.” He grumbles, all while he’s pushing into you slowly, hot, ragged breaths against your skin as his lips messily place kisses on your neck.

Now you really don’t know what’s gotten into him, if something happened while he was out—nonetheless, you decide to play along. “No, Tom. Never.” You shake your head, your hand reaching out to brush one of his dark curls from his face.

He gives you a satisfied hum in return, gradually speeding up, one of his hands pinning yours above your head as he thrusts into you from above, brushing against your most sensitive spot with every snap of his hips—the combined sensations so intense you aren’t sure how much longer you can take him like this.

And he knows.

Releasing your wrists, his hand slips between you, finding your swollen clit, tracing the bud in slow, tight circles. Your hips buck into his touch, chasing every single bit of pleasure he’s giving you as you feel the coil in your stomach winding tighter, climax approaching faster than your mind can process.

It’s not only you, though. His cock twitches inside of you, thrusts growing erratic as he chases his own release, pushing into you as if it’s the last time he gets to do it.

“Tell me you are mine. Fuck— need you to tell me.” He growls, hips stuttering against yours, and you know he is close, so close—

“I am yours. All yours.” You reassure him, and that’s all it takes for him to break, a low, deep groan somewhere from the back of his throat as he spills himself inside of you, painting your walls white with his cum.

He mumbles something under his breath, dragging out his orgasm, something you make out to be his language—parseltongue, words that have your surroundings fade into a blur. Although you don’t understand him, his eyes tell you all you need to know—fireworks explode behind your eyes as you tumble over the edge, your whole body charged with the high of your release as your cunt flutters eagerly around his still hard length, milking the last remnants of his release.

His chest heaves as he breathes heavily, his body coming to rest on top of yours.

You stay like this for a while, giving him the chance to calm down. Your fingertips trace slow patterns along his muscular back, wandering up to his neck and finally swiping through his dishevelled, dark curls.

When he then lifts himself off you, his expression gentle as he pulls out of you slowly, glancing down at you with a knowing look, you realise it’s better not to ask.

And that’s why he values you more than anyone else.

Because you have learned to understand him.

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3

—

masterlist. | oneshots.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[sungbeams]

MIDNIGHT IN MILAN — lhs

they say love makes you do stupid things...surely fucking your boyfriend in the bathroom at the prada after party when your relationship isn't even public and neither of you can afford a dating scandal isn't that stupid, right?

⟡ ┆ pairing. lee heeseung x fem!reader

⟡ ┆ genre and tropes. MDNI 18+ ONLY, smut, established relationship, idol AU (both heeseung and yn)

⟡ ┆ warnings. semi-public sex, unprotected sex, mirror sex, mild choking, creampie, fingering, tiniest hint of degradation (he calls her a slut like once), one singular spank, some hair pulling, not really any aftercare

⟡ ┆ word count. 6.4k

⟡ ┆ note. i know the hype around tipsy hee already died down but i simply couldn't let this go. started writing it literally the same day the pictures dropped, then got hit with a massive writers block and only recently managed to finish this. biggest thanks to @jayparked who listened to me complain about this fic and contemplate just deleting it all. this fic wouldn't be here without her :(

"Fuck, Hee—" your broken moans echo off the dark walls around you as you throw your head back at the feeling of his dick sliding in and out of you, hitting that perfect spot that has your hips chasing after his, "feels so good. Don't stop, please don't stop."

"Not planning to, baby," Heeseung grunts out his reply, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you back to meet his sharp thrusts, sending shockwaves up your spine all the way to your head, making you feel woozy at the intense pleasure overwhelming your senses.

Your gazes meet in the mirror in front of you, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up. One of his hands moves up your body, his fingers wrapping around your throat and applying slight pressure to it to cut off the needy whines spilling from your mouth. Your eyes roll back at the sensation, head falling forward and your body crashing into the counter beneath you, your arms too weak to hold yourself up anymore. 

"That's my good girl, so desperate for my cock, huh?" Heeseung smirks to himself, continuing to roll his hips into yours. He wants to tug on your hair, hold you in place so he can look at your fucked-out face, but he knows he needs to be careful not to wreck you too much, not to leave any marks — or at least none that leave no doubt as to what you're doing here.

Truly, the two of you should be ashamed about what you're doing, but neither of you can bring yourself to care — not in the slightest. Right now, the only thing you're concerned about is Heeseung's cock repeatedly drilling past your folds into your soaked heat, how snug your walls feel around him, hugging him, molding to his shape with each snap of his hips. Maybe come tomorrow when you wake up and you think back to this moment, you'll bury your head in your hands and wonder what drove you to make such stupid, such careless decisions. 

After all, you are currently having sex with your boyfriend in a private powder room at an afterparty you had been invited to as brand ambassadors. You should be professional. Mingling with people, maybe having a drink, getting some of your pictures taken, but no, instead you're getting your guts rearranged by a man barely anyone knows is your boyfriend.

In your defense, the past few days had been beyond stressful, and you hadn’t been able to get any alone time with Heeseung in what feels like forever. Not during the busy days ahead of your flight to Italy, not during the 14-hour plane ride from Seoul to Milan for Fashion Week, and certainly not during all the schedules you had the past two days. Moments of privacy had been sparse, reduced to rare bathroom breaks since you shared a hotel room with one of the other members of your group.

----

Stepping out of the van to attend the afterparty, you force an effortless smile onto your face, repeatedly reminding yourself that this was your last schedule of the night and then you'd get a night of sleep just to hop onto another seemingly everlasting flight back home where you’ll be greeted with at least a few days without any public appearances. So you push yourself to ignore the ache in your feet from wearing heels all day, ignoring the throbbing in your head from the lack of sleep, food, and water, which only intensifies from the flurry of flashing cameras greeting you, or the pinch in your lower back from where you assume a safety pin must've come loose.

Hours pass by in the blink of an eye, pictures being taken with either your fellow group members or other celebrities and influencers also attending the party; a drink gets pushed into your hands, and the alcohol momentarily numbs your body and washes the pain away, allowing your shoulders to relax and your breaths to deepen as you take in your surroundings. Lo and behold, a few feet away from where you are, you find him standing: Heeseung. Hands in his pockets as he's talking to some unidentifiable celebrity in front of him.

Almost as if he feels your gaze on him, he glances away from the man before him, your eyes meeting for a brief moment. You take an involuntary step forward, like he's drawing you right in, before your manager steps in your line of sight, "They want a picture of you girls with Enhypen, something about wanting the two K-Pop groups attending in one picture together."

You nod your head at her words, trying to steal one last look at your boyfriend, only to see him walking right in your direction, together with Sunoo and Jungwon trailing after him, their manager leading them right to where you're walking to.

A staff member pushes and pulls you all into position, telling you where to stand and how to pose, and by some sort of miracle you end up right next to your boyfriend. Your manager shoots you a quick look, and you teasingly roll your eyes at her as she's silently warning you to not make your relationship too obvious, seeing as your company has been pretty outspoken about not wanting the public to know about what was going on between Heeseung and you.

While the photographers look over their pictures, trying to decide if they need more or if they're satisfied with what they got, you lean slightly to your right, close enough so the man next to you would be able to hear your hushed whispers, "You know...I heard some people talking about there being private restrooms at this venue. Just thought I'd mention it in case you'd like a moment alone to take a bit of a breather from all the socializing."

"Oh? Is that so?" you can hear the slight smile in the low rumble of his voice as he leans down, masking his closeness by adjusting the leg of his pants, "Guess I'll have to check them out in a bit then."

"Alright, everyone, we'll take a few more pictures and then you can go back to the party," one of the photographers interrupts your conversation, drawing all attention back to the front. You position yourself slightly to the left again, creating more space between your boyfriend and you to avoid angering your managers.

A few more pictures taken, and you're finally released. Almost instantly, you excuse yourself from your group, beelining towards the aforementioned restrooms, making sure not to draw any attention to yourself despite your heart beating rapidly in your chest at the thought of some alone time with your boyfriend, sending blood rushing through your ears, loud enough to drown out the quick click-clacks of your heels against the tiled floor underneath you.

The anticipation is killing you as you're waiting for Heeseung to show up, staring at your phone just to see the status of your message to him with the details of exactly where you are change from 'delivered' to 'seen' right in front of your eyes. Minutes feel like hours as you tap your foot nervously against the marble floor beneath your feet, trying your best to ignore your throbbing pussy, your folds covered in your slick and clinging onto your underwear already — all just because of the mere thought of what he would do to you within these four walls.

You glance at your phone again when three rapid knocks followed by two more taps against the wooden door next to you startle you. Opening the door with a smile on your lips, you lean out slightly, your head turning left and right to scan the hallway, "Are you sure no one followed you?"

Wordlessly he nudges you back inside and closes the door behind you. His lips are on yours in an instant, moving with familiar desperation as he pushes you against the closed door. His hands are all over you, grasping onto your hips, pulling them flush against him and allowing you to feel the growing bulge in his pants press against your lower abdomen. Your heart beats erratically in your chest — the sound almost drowning out the soft clicking of the lock turning behind your back — hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as lust takes over you, clouding your mind. His lips work against yours in a beautiful frenzy, rushed but still taking his time, nipping at your lower lip, entangling his tongue with yours in a passionate dance that wordlessly tells you everything you need to know.

Your body relaxes right against his, all tension melting away with each movement, the space between you charged with tension, thick and hot, as Heeseung pulls away. 

"Don't worry, we're all alone, baby," he breathes against your lips as his mouth trails down to your neck, eagerly covering your skin in wet kisses as your hands reach up to tangle themselves in his hair. 

The tiny voice in a deep, dark corner of your mind tells you not to mess it up, not to leave a single trace for people to suspect what the two of you left the party for, to avoid any scandal at all costs. But your need to be as close as possible to your boyfriend overrides any and all logic left inside you, so you ignore it, pulling him closer to you instead and letting him graze your skin wherever he desires. Contrary to you, he seems to still have some care for the consequences of your escapades, seeing as he moves down the collar of your dress to continue the path of his lips there, sucking and softly biting the supple flesh, leaving marks easily hidden. 

With his hand pressing against the small of your back, he pulls you away from the door, and the two of you stumble over towards the massive mirror situated behind the vanity of the powder room. Your ass digs into the cold marble of the counter as he crowds you against it, fingers holding your hips in a bruising grip — enough to almost hurt, the sensation just the right mix of pain and pleasure to pull a whimpered plea from your lips — before moving lower. His hands massaging your round cheeks has you biting your lip, whining as he lifts you up, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist just to feel his hard cock straining against his pants and press right into where you need him the most.

"Hee...please—" you cut yourself off with a moan, louder than you had anticipated, and he quietly shushes you in response.

“Shh, baby, we don't wanna get caught now, do we?"

His lips form into a smirk against your skin as you shake your head with a slight pout on your lips. You really don’t want to get caught; you don't want to even think about what it would mean for both of you if people found out about what the two of you are up to in here, but your mind is begging, screaming at you to let it all out, let him know how good he's making you feel.

"You can be loud in the hotel; how about that, sweetheart?”

Oh, screw him. Getting you worked up over the possibilities the future holds for you before even having you now.

Your reply comes in the form of a quiet whimper, mind wandering off to all the possibilities your soundproof hotel room offers. His hands snap you out of it, interrupting your train of thought as they push underneath the bottom hem of your dress, reaching for your soiled underwear to press his fingers right against your cunt, feeling just how absolutely soaked he has gotten you.

"Fuck, baby, what's gotten you this wet, huh?"

"You, Hee—" you exhale, chest heaving up and down as he toys with your clit through the damp cotton of your panties, hips bucking up to chase his fingers, "please...please just fuck me already."

“Love when you beg for me like this. Shit," he groans, eyes closing for a brief moment in a hopeless attempt to compose himself, panting like a dog as he pulls away from you. His hands move over the buckle of his belt in a frenzied rush, fumbling slightly before he manages to undo it, opening his zipper with shaking and twitching fingers. His pants hit the floor with a thud, joined by the black briefs he had been wearing underneath, and he's back on you before you even have a chance to gawk at his cock, thick and heavy, with an angry tip, red and leaking precum already. Despite having seen it multiple times, it still never fails to take your breath away each time you get a chance to look at it. 

His lips crash against yours in an almost bruising kiss, distracting you from his fingers hooking underneath your underwear, pushing it to the side as his other hand finds the base of his cock, pumping himself a few times until he lets his head kiss your entrance. In one fluid movement he pushes himself inside you, both of you letting out synchronized moans as you feel your walls stretching around his girth. His size still surprises you, despite this not being the first time together with him, and even though your cunt is dripping — your slick arousal running down your folds just to pool underneath you — you're still having trouble taking him wholly. His throbbing length fills you up so well you swear you feel him all the way in your belly, gasping as you spread your legs wider to grant him even more access to your wet pussy.

His fingers find their way back down to your clit, no longer obstructed by your underwear, massaging it slowly to help you relax around him. And it works; your body lets go, tension melting from you as you allow him to pull back slightly and thrust back in again, slowly managing to push further and further into you until he fills you to the hilt, his hips making contact with your ass. Pressing your face against his shoulder, you try your best to muffle your moans. Your cunt molds itself around him with each clench of your walls, desperate whines tumbling past your lips as his cock pulsates deep inside of you, as you feel every ridge, every vein, every inch of him. 

"Taking me so well, baby, such a good girl for me. You ready for me to move, sweet girl?"

You nod breathlessly, almost unable to reply to his words at all, mind fuzzy with pleasure. 

And he hasn't even started properly fucking you yet. 

Heeseung presses a gentle kiss against your lips, already swollen and raw, his bruising kisses lingering on them, before he begins to move, hips thrusting into your greedy hole as you cling to him, holding on tightly as best as you can. His forehead falls against yours, labored breaths mixing together and becoming one as you pant into each other's mouths, a needy blend of curses occasionally interrupted by your names tumbling from both of your lips. Your eyes meet his, losing yourself in them as they pull you in further and further. His gaze makes you want to shy away, intense and all-consuming, while at the same time it just as well makes you want to throw your head back, moan his name for everyone in this building to hear just how good he's making you feel.

"So good—fuck, feels so good, Heeseung," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as you lean further into his embrace, his arms holding you upright as the control of your own body slips further from your grasp.

You feel so full of him, having him exactly how you wanted him all night, his cock brushing right against your cervix with every thrust, his hands all over your body in a desperate frenzy, his mouth latched against yours, tasting you like a starved man. The feeling of having him all over you is overpowering your every sense, hopelessly trying — and failing — to keep your moans at bay, choking back a desperate whine in the back of your throat.

Heeseung can't help but coo slightly at you, your urgency going straight to his ego, as well as his cock, twitching deep within your spongy walls as he moves your legs to wrap them around his waist tighter as he grunts and groans, "Such a dirty thing, letting me fuck you right where anyone could hear us. Shit, gonna let me use your pretty cunt, gonna walk out there with my cum dripping down your legs like the little slut you are?"

Your answer comes in a whined 'yes' as you throw your head back, eyes screwing shut, hot sparks shooting through your whole body. Your legs twitch around his hips, nerves tingling as you start clamping down around him. Lust clouds your judgment, wanting to draw this out as much as you could, not wanting to cum just yet. Staying in here any longer than absolutely necessary wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do; in fact, it would be the complete opposite of smart. With every second the two of you are together in this restroom, his cock pressed deep inside you, brushing against your cervix, you risk the chances of getting caught, of someone hearing you moan out his name.

Fortunately for you, Heeseung seems to have a similar thought process. Slowly, his thrusts come to a halt, and he pulls out of you. The emptiness he leaves behind rips a pitiful whine from you, and he shushes you by pressing his lips against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before moving you off the counter and turning you around. You don't mind him manhandling you — you enjoy it even — his touches soft but forceful as he makes your back collide with his chest, your eyes meeting in the big mirror in front of you.

"Be a good girl and bend over for me."

His breath is hot against your ear, voice low and drenched with desire oozing off it thick like honey as you feel his cock dig into the flesh of your ass, the combined sensations sending shivers down your spine. His fingers graze your thighs as he lifts the bottom of your dress above your ass, letting it pool around your hips. Slowly, he pulls your underwear down your legs, his blunt nails scraping your burning skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The ruined cotton falls to the tiled floor beneath your feet, transparent and sticky with your arousal, as you lean your torso onto the counter, holding yourself up with your shaking arms. You step out of them, blindly kicking them to the side to allow yourself more freedom to move.

Impatiently, you look over your shoulder, wiggling your ass to silently urge him to hurry up and get back to fucking you again. He can't resist the temptation, even if he would’ve attempted to try, running his hand over your bare ass, caressing your soft, round globes before landing a slap against your smooth skin — not a particularly harsh or painful one, not nearly as forceful as you know he’s capable of, but hard enough to send a wave of electricity through your body, a muffled sob falling from your lips at the sensation — before placing them back on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh with a bruising grip.

Not wasting any more time, he slides right back inside you. The different angle pulls a moan from you, mixing with the low groan falling from Heeseung's mouth as your warm pussy embraces his cock. One of his hands presses against your back, pinning your front against the cold marble counter underneath you, your arms shaking as you scramble to find something to hold onto. The sounds tumbling past his lips make you clench around his length, the low rumble of his groans bouncing off the walls surrounding you, his chest heaving up and down with each erratic roll of his hips turning you into a panting mess as he repeatedly hits that one sensitive spot within you. You try your best to hold eye contact with him through the mirror, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure clearly written on his face right as you cum, but you simply cannot. 

Your head falls forward, eyes screwing shut as you let pleasure take over you — your mind, your body, all of your senses.

His hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor, looking up briefly just to see his eyes trained right on where you're connected, watching his dick disappear within your creamy hole again and again, laser-focused as if he was in a trance. He pulls you back to him with each of his thrusts, making you meet him with even more force. You let out a fervent moan at the sensation, your sobs joining the squelching sound of wet skin slapping against skin reverberating around the room. He drives inside you at a merciless pace, each thrust harder than the last one, making your entire body jolt at the force of them.

Heeseung steadies himself, taking his hand off your hip to place on the counter beside you, quickening his pace just slightly as his cock twitches inside of you in response to a particularly pornographic moan of yours.

"Hee-'m so close," you whine, fingers clawing at the marble counter, legs shaking as you feel yourself inching closer and closer to the edge with each drag of his heavy cock inside of you, each snap of his hips against yours.

Heeseung throws his head back at the sensation of your cunt fluttering around him, groaning out as his nails bite into your skin, "Just a bit longer, baby, almost there."

His hand on your shoulder pulls you up, your back colliding with his chest as he continues the merciless pace of his thrusts. The angle at which he keeps fucking into you feels overwhelming, consuming your whole mind and body, yet pleasurable in the best way, and you swear this is the closest you've ever been to heaven before. Your soft whines and pants turn into moans, growing louder with every passing second as you hold onto Heeseung's arm wrapped around your front, pressing you into his chest.

In a moment of clarity, Heeseung notices just how loud your moans have gotten, and as much as it pains him, he knows he quickly has to think of something to silence you unless you want someone to hear you on the outside of the door, resulting in a guaranteed scandal. His solution: his hand wrapped around your throat.

A gasped whimper escapes your mouth as you feel his fingers pressing into your skin, the slight pressure and the weight of his hand against your throat causes your head to spin, his grip not strong enough to hurt or leave marks but send dizzying pleasure right to the depths of your belly. Your breath hitches as your airways constrict, eyes rolling into the back of your head, hand reaching up to hold onto his wrist, making sure his hand stays right where it is, already addicted to the feeling.

The lack of air combined with his relentless thrusts sends you into a frenzy, you feel like you're floating, your limbs tingling, and the world around you blurs, your only focus on Heeseung's gaze that meets yours in the mirror in front of you. He's attentive, watching you closely and making sure you can still breathe — which you can, but the thrill of it all leaves you light-headed and gasping for air — while chasing his own high, pressing his lips into your shoulder to muffle the desperate groans threatening to escape him. 

His grip on your throat tightens, just barely, but enough to cut off your air supply for just a short moment, the rush sending a brand new wave of arousal pooling in the depths of your belly. It feels like he's everywhere — his cock thrusting into you at a merciless pace, his hand wrapped securely around your throat while his arm winds around your waist, pulling you flush against his front, not allowing you to move in the slightest. The intensity of it all is overwhelming your senses, the lack of oxygen making everything sharper, more intense, and you're reveling in the sensation of him pounding into you and sending every nerve in your body buzzing with electric pleasure.

"God, so greedy, couldn't even wait until we were back at the hotel, could you? Just had to have my cock buried deep inside you, can't get enough of it, right, princess?” he grunts lowly as he loosens the grip on your throat, lips pressing into your ear, sending shivers down your spine as your walls clamp down on him while you suck in a desperate gasp of air. 

You're too far gone to respond, your mind clouded with lust, hazy and floating like a cloud on a balmy spring day. All you can do is moan out his name, over and over again, a prayer falling from your lips as he continues thrusting into you, your body pushing against his tight hold of your waist, instinctively moving to meet every snap of his hips. His pace is relentless, Heeseung's thoughts replaced by his need to cum, desperately chasing his own high as he drives you closer and closer to the edge of blissful oblivion. The coil inside you winds impossibly tight, your legs shaking, and if it weren't for your boyfriend holding you upright, you know you'd be a mess of tangled limbs on the cold tiled floor beneath your feet already.

"Cum inside me—fuck, Heeseung, please," you plead breathily, your voice cracking as desperation takes over it, insatiable hunger and need setting your insides on fire.  

"Shit, you want me to cum inside you, yeah?"

His hand rubs over the mound of your ass, soothing your raw skin, sensitive from the slap he delivered to it just mere moments ago. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips with such force you're sure to find bruises the following day. 

“God, yes, Heeseung!” you cry out, your voice breaking as you feel the knot inside you tighten rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until it's a white-hot ball of pleasure, ready to explode and set your body alight.

He leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he whispers into your ear, “Be a good girl and cum for me, then you’ll get what you’re asking for. Come on, let go, cum for me, pretty girl."

And just like that you find yourself tipping over the edge, his words breaking the dam inside you and allowing your high to crash over you like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its wake. Pleasure courses through every inch of your body. Every vein, every nerve is set alight and dragged along the powerful and overwhelming waves of your release. Your slick walls clamp down around him like a vice, spasming with every drag of his cock, every brush of his mushroom tip against that one spot that makes stars explode in front of your eyes.

His grip on you loosens enough to allow your upper half to fall forward, catching yourself as you lean on your forearms, left panting and completely undone as you gasp for air, lungs burning and desperate for the sweet taste of oxygen.

Heeseung lets out a strangled moan at the feeling of your dripping cunt tightening around him with even more force, his control slipping as his thrusts become urgent and uncontrollable. He murmurs something underneath his breath, but the rush of your heartbeat echoing in your ears is too loud, drowning out his words, which you assume are mumbled curses of your name.

You lose yourself in the sensation, barely able to form any coherent thoughts as your climax drags on. Each wave drags you deeper and deeper into the current of pleasure, leaving you gasping for air, body twitching and trembling as Heeseung prioritizes his own pleasure, chasing his high with renewed fervor.

Heeseung has never been a selfish lover, always putting your pleasure first, making sure you got to cum at least once before even letting himself think about the possibility of his own release. And maybe that’s part of the thrill for him, repeatedly — intentionally — edging himself until he finally gets what he wants from you, driving himself to the edge of his release over and over again until he is so sensitive he feels like he’s about to explode from just the slightest stimulation.

“Oh fuck, baby—“ he pants with a strained voice, his chest rising and falling rapidly, breaths ragged as he finally allows himself to let go.

With a low guttural groan, Heeseung spills himself inside of you, thick spurts of his warm cum shooting deep into your pulsing cunt, painting your insides white and oozing out of your pussy past his cock. The heat of it sends tiny aftershocks through you; your body shakes as you try to catch your breath, looking into the mirror to see him working himself through the last dredges of his orgasm, jaw slack and body trembling. His face is glistening with sweat, beads of it rolling down his throat and disappearing beneath the neckline of his black shirt.

The sight of him is enough to make you ache with need all over again — his face twisted in pleasure, his eyes dark and unfocused as he watches his cum leak out of your wrecked pussy around his length. You cannot help but think of the folder on his phone, password protected to keep it from the wrong eyes and filled to the brim with pictures you hope never see the light of day: his cum dripping out of your ruined cunt; his cock shoved into your mouth, the lower half of your face messy with a mix of spit, cum, tears, and lipstick; love bites scattered across the skin of your neck and the insides of your thighs like the constellations of the night sky. If you had more time, you’re sure he would add to that growing collection of his, pulling out his phone and snapping multiple pictures until he was satisfied, moving your body into various positions to get the best shot.

Instead of allowing your small daydream to become reality, Heeseung pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness leaving you whimpering and clenching around nothing, the squelching wet sound of him slipping his cock out of you echoing around the room.

He takes another moment to admire the mess he's made of you, leaning back slightly as he watches his cum drip from your drenched hole. He reaches out, letting his fingers run between your folds to collect his cum just to shove it back into you. The sight of your pussy swallowing his digits, your puffy lips embracing them with ease makes his cock twitch again, overstimulated and sensitive but still aching for more.

“Hee—fuck, please,” you’re not even sure what you’re begging for, mind fuzzy and eyes heavy as you watch him through the mirror in front of you. 

You try to drink it all in, wanting this moment embedded in your memory until the end of your days. His dark hair falling into his eyes, focused on the white globs of his cum slipping out of your cunt from around his fingers and running down your thigh. His skin is flushed, sweat beaded on it like little gems glued to reddened satin. It trails down his neck to his chest, revealed by the undone top button of his shirt. 

Heeseung interrupts your little ogling session when he pulls his fingers out slowly, savoring the way you shudder at the loss. 

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before he gently turns you around to face him: lips puffy and swollen, eyes watery and completely wrecked despite your combined effort to prevent just this from happening when you were still able to think clearly before your minds were clouded with lust. 

“You did so well, baby,” Heeseung murmurs, his voice thick with a twisted mix of pride and possessiveness as he angles your head so his lips capture yours in a kiss that sends another wave of burning heat through you, igniting the glowing embers lingering deep within you.

His hands slide to your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he effortlessly lifts you up, your bare thighs resting on the vanity underneath you, the cold marble biting into the raw and tender skin of your ass.

“Made such a mess, can you feel it dripping out of you?” — you nod at his question despite knowing he didn’t ask for you to answer — “Want me to clean you up?”

“Fuck, yes,” you breathe out your reply, eyes glossing over at the intention.

A smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, the unspoken meaning of his words written as clear as day on his face as he slowly lowers himself to the tiled floor beneath his feet, spreading your legs in the process to make room for him to fit between them. He looks up at you from between your spread thighs, leaning forward slightly to press his lips against the insides of them, alternating between nibbling and sucking, sure to leave marks for you to find the next day. A whispered sigh of his name slips past your lips as you throw your head back slightly, his lips ghosting closer and closer to where you need him, to where his cum was still dripping out of you.

His warm breath fans over your wet center, lips just a hair's width away from your pulsing cunt when a gentle knock interrupts you. Heeseung jumps up at the sound, back on his feet in an instant. Your eyes are wide in panic as you meet his gaze before you both turn to the door.

“Shit,” Heeseung mouths as he rushes to grab some paper towels to wipe your mixed juices from between your thighs, hoping that whoever just knocked on the door isn’t aware of the fact that there are currently two people in this bathroom. Two people who certainly could not afford to be caught in a position like you are currently finding yourselves in.

“Heeseung? It’s me, Jay.”

The sigh of relief leaving both of you could almost be described as comical if not for the tension still lingering between you, all the worries and anxieties of a secret relationship almost coming true. Haphazardly, Heeseung pulls his pants up, the undone belt still hanging from his hips as he helps you down from the vanity, hands tugging at the hem of your dress to give you at least a slight bit of decency. He takes one look in the mirror, letting out a small groan before shuffling over to open the door.

The moment the door opens, Jay turns towards both of you, hands buried in the pockets of his pants as he awkwardly shifts from one foot to the other. The redness of his ears confirms your suspicions that he most likely heard more than you would’ve liked, immediately sending your blood rushing to your head, face burning with embarrassment at your friend catching you in such a precarious position. He clears his throat once, trying — and failing — to subtly take in Heeseung’s appearance before shooting a small, albeit flustered, smile at the two of you.

“We gotta leave, like,” he takes a look at his phone to check the time, “right now, actually. I already bought you both some time, told them you weren’t feeling well, and Heeseung wanted to make sure you’re alright. You should…clean yourselves up a bit. Meet us at the entrance in 5?”

You both nod as you watch Jay turn to leave after looking your boyfriend and you up and down once again, shaking his head as he deeply sighs in disappointment — a sound almost eerily similar to one you had heard your parents make several times when you were younger — and you swear as he walks away you can hear him mumble to himself about how you were like two hormonal teenagers, not able to keep it in your pants for even one night.

“Well, guess we gotta get you cleaned up, huh, sweetheart?” 

“Oh no, we don’t!” you jab your finger into his chest as he chuckles at you, “I get cleaned up, and you can go meet up with everyone. It’ll be less suspicious if we don’t show up at the same time.”

Heeseung holds up his hand in fake surrender, a smile still playing with his glossy lips as his eyes roam over your body with one last hungry gaze. Despite the burning ache inside him, the quick kiss he presses against your lips is nothing but sweet and gentle, tenderness quickly replaces the darkness formerly taking over his eyes, “I’ll text you later. Maybe we can manage to sneak you into my hotel room later.”

“Sounds like a plan,” your hands wrap around his arms, giving his biceps one last affectionate squeeze before ushering him out of the bathroom and away to join his group members, giving you a few more precious minutes to clean up, make yourself look somewhat presentable — or at least presentable enough to not have any fans or press question just what exactly happened over the past hour — and find out where you had kicked your underwear in the heat of the moment.

You take a moment to watch your boyfriend walk away, the slight bounce in his step is a dead giveaway for the people who knew him that he just got laid, but lucky for both of you, no one of importance should be able to figure him out and turn this whole thing into an issue for the two of you. Just as you’re about to turn around and assess his damage in the big vanity mirror, Heeseung turns around one more time, eyes twinkling with mischief as he takes you in, watching the way your eyebrows rise on your forehead in a silent question at his sudden halt.

“Oh, and baby?” you nod your head in response, “Make sure to wipe the lipstick from your chin. We wouldn’t want anyone to find out what a greedy slut you are for me, would we now?”

© sungbeams — all rights reserved. i do not give permission to copy, repost, modify or translate my works.

[j0ysyndr0m3]

admit it. | stack x reader blurb (sinners)

"stack, what happend last night," you paused, fidgeting with your fingernails, "i-it was a mistake."

stack turned his head to you, your meek confession left him furrowing his brow in confusion, but a smirk slowly grew on his face, his grills gleaming. he knew you was lying, your body gave it away. you crossed your arms, looking down at your feet, trying your best not to melt at the spot you stood.

“it wasn’t no damn mistake when you were sittin’ on my face.”

"thats not fair stack, you told me to do that." you argued, you felt your ears heating up. stack chuckled, he always thought you were so cute when you tried to argue. you turned your back to him, not wanting to look at him anymore. you can hear stack hum from afar, followed by the sound of shoes shuffling. you believd stack was leaving, until you felt something against your rump.

fingers laced with golden rings, gently moving stray curls from your face and behind your ear, “but you still liked it.” he whispers, his breath cools your already heated ears. his free hand grabbing onto your waist. your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth, trying not to let out a moan.

"go on, say you liked it."

you slowly shook your head, resisting. you wanted to move but his touch made you froze in your place. all the memories from that night replays in your mind. no man has ever touched you the way he did.

oh stack~

and in your mind, no man ever will.

stack..right there- oh god!

that's it. give it to me pretty girl.

"i liked it." you admitted, feeling stack chuckle vibrating against your ear.

this is so bad, but i needed to write this before i never do. i was on the longest writer's block, and i have sinners to thank for breaking me out of that.

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ FILL ME UP .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ rodrick heffley x fem!singer!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.1k

DESCRIPTION rodrick sees a perfect time to start the process of baby making.

CONTENT breeding kink ꣑ dom!rodrick ꣑ sub!reader ꣑ lil praise kink ꣑ dirty talk ꣑ aftercare mentioned ꣑ rodrick’s is in his twenties.

THOUGHTS ahhh, i know i did a slight rodrick smut headcanons before but this is my first full fic smut for him and i'm excited. i hope y’all enjoy this.

𝒾. masterlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts

“HOW WAS THAT?”

You ask, looking at Rodrick who has a smile on his face, you just got done singing a new song you wrote for the band. You were pretty nervous about it too, it was one that gave you writer’s block since you wanted to be perfect.

“You always sound good,” Rodrick comments, laying back on the couch manspreading; gripping onto the drumsticks he held in his hand.

“I’m happy you liked it.” You question, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, you walk over to where he’s sitting, immediately taking your seat on his lap, taking his sticks out of his hand, placing it on the couch cushion, as his hands cups your waist, moving slowly towards your ass, squeezing it while he captures your soft lips with his after staring deeply into your eyes.

You knew what you two were doing was bad, intimacy between band mates was against the rules so no conflict were to ever happen if breakups were to concur but the magnetic pull that keeps bringing you two together since you met is so strong that you can’t just walk away from those feelings.

Whenever he looks at you when he thinks you are not looking, it gets you all giddy inside, the butterflies that form in your stomach whenever you sing in front of him because his opinion always mattered the most out of everyone.

His hands grips the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head breaking the kiss for only a second, he unclamps your bra, discarding to the ground as you grind over his growing bulge that you can tell was aching to be released from the restraints of his jeans. 

Your hands travel down to his lower waist, unbuttoning his jeans, zipping down the zipper while you lift your body for a minute so he can take off both his jeans and his boxers, his hard cock springing up once it’s released. 

“Let me check the waters,” Rodrick says, bringing his hand under your skirt, feeling the wet spot on your panties, a smirk tugs on the corner of his lips as he pulls your panty to the side, lining up his tip to your entrance. “Look at my princess, all wet for me.” 

Your face heats up at his comment as you sink down slowly, biting down on your bottom lip as you enjoy every inch until you flush against his pelvis.

You hold on to his shoulders as you start to grind your hips slowly to get used to his length briefly before you start to bounce up and down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut from how good he feels inside of you. It was like your pussy was made only for him as it fits perfectly better than your ex ever did.

His hands grip your waist tightly as he guides your movements, the sounds of your moans mingling with each other filling the garage as if anyone was to walk by, they would hear what was going on and it excites you more.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, keeping eye contact with you as you continue bouncing, loving the squelching noises your pussy was making. You moans spill out your mouth as you’re loving every second of this. 

Rodrick arms wrap around your waist stopping all movement as he holds you while getting up, placing you on your stomach near the edge of the couch not disconnecting from your greedy cunt.

“If only you can see how pretty you are as you take all of me,” He comments, admiring the sight beneath him as he rolls his hips into you, soft moans escaping out of your slightly parted mouth as you grip the couch.

“Perfect, little pussy suckin’ me right in,” He groans as he keeps his pace looking into your pretty eyes. “Fuck— please…” you whimper.

“Please what? Use your words, tell me what you want, love,” Rodrick watches you try to form complete sentences as he thrust deeper inside of you, your moans filling his ears. He smirks once again, knowing he got you too fucked out to talk. 

Your boobs bouncing with each thrust, he looks at your sweat-slick belly, he reaches down to your breasts and his mouth trails down the valley of your breasts, biting and nibbling on the soft flesh, tongue swirling on the marks forming on your skin as his saliva leaves wet spots behind.

"So soft for me, (name), look at you" he huffs out, trailing downwards, reaching your stomach and something in his eyes change a shade darker, pounding into your cunt, the mewls in response from you drives him crazy, his mind going to places he shouldn't but the only thing that came to his mind was you full with his baby, your belly so round and soft. It would be one way to mark you as his, to stop all the guys from flirting with you after shows.

“Please… let me come,” you finally get out as you dig your nails into his back. 

“Go ahead, come all over my cock,” he groans as he uses his fingers to rub on your clit. Your cunt clenching around his dick, and your body starts to convulse, painting not only his cock but his lower waist as well with your release. 

“Good girl,” Rodrick praises in your ear as you try to catch your breath. “Gonna fill you up real good, would you like that, love?” He pounds harder and deeper as his cock twitches inside your cunt loving the sight of you nodding your head yes to his question, your gummy walls gripping him tighter. “You’d look so beautiful while carrying my child,” He places his hand on your stomach as he is picturing the sight. 

The mere images made his cock twitch inside you, your lewd noises of overstimulation just making it hard to back off from actually doing it, the pace he set is ruthless, pounding inside your sopping hole, slippery with your juices as he chases his end. 

Your lips parted, whined spewing out of your mouth as he fucks you, hitting the spongy spot repeatedly, nearing his own orgasm as he fills you up to the brim with his hot white spurts of seeds.

His breath warm on your neck, your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, perfectly fitting inside, hitting the spots in an angle never before, catching up with his depleted air levels as he looks down at your fucked out state, hands connected while your bodies connected as well with his cock still buried deep to the hilt inside your warm core, the images still plagues his mind. 

Rodrick slowly pulls out and as he does, he watches some of his cum ooze from your hole, he scoops it up and pushes it back into your pussy earning a whimper to escape your mouth.

“I know baby, just needed to make sure none of it goes to waste, let’s clean you up,” he picks you up in bridal style, you snuggle in his chest while he carries you inside your home, leading you to the bathroom, happy of what’s to come in the future, putting aside the thought of the band finding out your secret relationship.

COMMENTS (if you want to be tagged in doawk fics, click here) @cherriespopsicle, @rain-likes-purple, @lover-of-books-and-tea.

thank you for reading! © stxrrkissed 2024. all rights reserved — do not claim, copy, repost or translate.

[pervertwhore]

FILL HER UP AND LEAVE HER DUMB!

SIREN IS TYPING! | FINALLY! PISS FIC IS OUT! i wanted to apologize for taking sosososo long for putting it out, ive been juggling college and writer’s block HORRIBLY >< i’ve written this like 101380203 times and i guess this one is the least mediocre one.. thank you to my babe pillsy & pups for proof reading this and dealing with the fact ive written this like a million times now.. 6.5k words!

WARNINGS! | NSFW! PISS! URINE! PEE! leon will be pissing while he’s balls deep so if you don’t fw piss do not read! don’t! torture! yourself! age gaps, leon isn’t like? the best person? gross, sleazy, i guess! damnation leon is in his mid thirties, reader is in her early twenties, dumbification, semi-public sex? bar bathroom drunk sex, sloppy fucking, creampie, mediocre orgasm cuz leon is gross and only really cared about himself, clit playing, etc etc idk

SYNOPSIS! | damnation! leon kennedy x bimbo! reader — bar hook ups are rare when you’re in your thirties and go to sport bars filled with men, but when a pretty face comes in wearing the sluttiest outfit and doesn’t have a thought in her brain, leon knew he needed to get in a quick fuck. but after a full night of nursing whiskey, he can’t help his bladder filling up mid fuck!

dim lights, chatter, and old men — that’s what this bar was. 

so why were you here? 

leon was surprised, pretty girls like you don’t come around to places like these often.

look at you! dressed in the sluttiest crop top and skirt you could find. were you stupid? coming to a bar filled with gross middle aged men dressed like that? it was like you were asking for trouble. 

leon had been seated at the bar, staring down at his glass blankly, mind fuzzy and blurry while his face stayed void of emotion. he had been on autopilot, maybe if he was at another bar he would be doing something else— but that was empty wishful thinking, once a sip of alcohol enters his system his mind blanks. a way to cope, simply. that was the intention tonight. but that’s when you came in — practically skipping to the bar and taking the empty seat next to him. 

he had glanced over at you, a thoughtless action, but when he saw you, he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. 

you were cute, sitting up with perfect posture, your tits practically spilling out of your shirt while you stared at the bartender with sparkling eyes, and you were sitting next to him? god must’ve heard his prayers and thrown him a bone. 

he kept a sly gaze on you while you ordered, watching you bat your eyelashes at the bartender while you ordered, biting your glossy lips in thought while you leaned against the counter. leon felt envious of the bartender, as he stood on the other side of the bar, he must be getting a nice look down your low-cut shirt. asshole. 

as you ordered, leon expected to hear you order something fruity, a frozen piña colada or whatever younger girls like you liked, but leon’s eyebrows raised in amusement once he heard your order. “uhh, can i have a cola? thank you!” you said, sounding so eager, leon’s brain reeled, did you really just ask for a soda? at a bar? are you stupid? the bartender simply nodded and turned away from you. you smiled dumbly and shifted in your seat, pulling your denim skirt down to cover your thighs. barely. you pulled out your phone, a cute iphone 4s with a hot pink cover, it suited you. 

moving to grip his glass, leon pulled it to his lips before he took a long swig of the drink, a small breath leaving his lips as he put the glass back.

“if you wanted a soda you could’ve gone to circle-k, you know?” leon said, turning his head to face you, a lazy smirk curling at his lips. 

your head perked up, and looking over at him, you smiled dumbly. “yeah! but, like, i wanted an excuse to go out! but alcohol is so gross.” you replied, a small laugh leaving your lips as you turned your body to face him fully, leon let out a low hum. “so, you decided to get all dressed up and go to a bar.. just to get a soda? c’mon, at least get a drink.” leon pressed, glancing over at the bartender before looking back at you. “it’s part of the bar experience, sweetheart.” he said, waving his hand in a swift moment as he spoke, you squirmed in your seat, biting your bottom lip, “mmm, i don’t know.. what do you think i’d like?” 

leaning back against his stool, leon let out a small laugh, “i don’t know, sweetheart. a strawberry margarita? you like strawberries, yeah? it’s a nice fruity drink, something you can handle.” he nodded, watching as the bartender slid over a glass of soda. 

taking the glass, you moved it over to your lips, popping the red straw into your mouth before taking a sip. “are you gonna buy it for me?” you teased, batting your eyelashes up at him before you crossed your legs. huffing, leon let out a small laugh, “what’s in it for me?” did you really think you could drain his wallet and not give him anything in return? c’mon.

“uhm.. you’d make me, like, super happy,” you said, a smile curling on your lips as he stared at him. 

“as pretty as your smile is i’m gonna need something more.” he said, you’re already smiling, why would he pay ten bucks to see you smile more? sure, he had the money, but did he want to give it? nah. 

“aww,” you whined, “okay, you can get anything you want, mister!” you caved, voice high pitched and cheery. “but, like, as long as it’s not like, i don’t know..wanting my organs or something, i can totally give it to you!” you said, giving him a playful wink. were you being serious? anything? c’mon, that was just too easy, a small smirk curled on his lips at your words, anything?

letting out a breath through his nose, leon crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket squeaking at the movement. 

“you’re way too eager, sweetheart. you’ll end up in the wrong hands if you continue like that.” he said, moving his head to the side and shifting in his seat, pushing his hips forward, his thighs spreading slightly. manspreading like any other guy at the bar, but your eager eyes flickered down to his pants, watching as the denim fabric curled on his lap.

a spark of thought hit you, your thighs clenched together as a small laugh left your lips, your head moved to the side and you waved his words off. 

“c’mon, mister, i’m a big girl— i can toootally handle myself!” you giggled, moving your finger to curl around your hair. 

leon let out a hum, not believing a word you said. 

“yeah? you can?” he mused, he knew you didn’t.

you nodded though, perking up on your chair, arching your back slightly to keep your posture upright and your tits pushed out. leon took a glance, leopard print shirt that barely fit and a push up bra, your tits were squeezed together in a full display. were you good at tit jobs? with a rack like that, he sure hoped you were.

“well, duh! i’m like, super good at handling myself, mister!” you rebutted, putting your hands on your hips as you hit the power pose, trying to prove your point. 

“leon,” he said, your head tilted to the side, “leon?” you asked stupidly. 

“that’s my name.”

“ohh.”

you were real cute, but damn, you were real stupid too. 

it didn’t take a scientist to figure it out, fuck, look at you. 

you stared at leon like a puppy— a stupid puppy look. not a single worry behind your dumb little eyes, you believed the world was at the palm of your hand, and it probably was. from the stories you told him you were nothing more than daddy’s princess, one pout, and dear old dad was pulling out his checkbook and writing off a fat check with how much money you asked for. he was even paying for your apartment, you had it nice, no need to study or learn, daddy’s inheritance would cover any of your worries. 

you reminded him of ashley, like a far memory, but ashley was a sweetheart. a smart girl, but you? you were just spoiled and stupid, he didn’t mind though, he could easily deal with you if he wanted to. 

leon noticed how you stared at him when he spoke, wide doe eyes focused on him intently like he was the messiah while you were nothing more than an apostle, like the words that slipped from his tongue were the route to salvation. it was silly, he was just some guy in his thirties, buzzed, and in a bar— were you one of those girls that were into that? the cute bimbos that wanted nothing more than a taste of cock from guys over half their age? probably, he’s already caught you sneaking glances at his pants, each shift and adjustment had your eyes glued to his crotch, thinking you were being slick. 

god, what a cock hungry whore. 

he had noted that as he spoke, you would nod along to his words with such eagerness, it made him wonder if you were even listening to him. 

c’mon, his mundane stories weren’t that interesting, maybe if he was honest about his job then he could understand why you seemed so interested, but he was sure if he uttered a single word about the undead the government would have his head. a red little glow dot resting against his forehead and that would be the end of leon scott kennedy. 

the government blew up an entire city with the infected and innocents without care to preserve their image. after all, one more life wouldn’t worry them. well, maybe his, leon’s the president’s lap dog after all—

nonetheless, those were secrets he wasn’t going to share with a nice pair of tits. you probably wouldn’t even understand.

you spoke a lot, with a cute little valley girl accent, the words like and totally were practically engraved into your vocabulary. If leon took a shot everytime you said any of the words he would’ve died of alcohol poisoning. 

the more you spoke, the more leon realized you didn’t have a sense of safety, it was almost funny. why did he know what high school you went to? what state were you born in? what your favorite doll growing up was? you had just met him and you were letting him in on all your secrets, like that one time you ran over the neighbor's mailbox and fled the scene immediately after, then playing the innocent angel card. or when you cheated on all your trigonometry tests in high school by writing the answers on your upper thigh and then wearing a skirt to have easy access to the answers. in your words, you never got caught because if the teacher asked you to lift your skirt he would be a sick perv! 

he wasn’t complaining, your stories were entertaining at the very least, a nice distraction from his own world. 

by now, leon had given in and gotten you that margarita, only one, sure he wasn’t a saint— he was a guy in his mid-thirties wanting to fuck a girl almost a decade younger than him— but he wasn’t horrible. 

you, on the other hand, had no sense of how to drink alcohol, sipping down the juice like it was juice and the effects were beginning to become apparent by your tittering and giggling. 

you were having a great time, getting looser and sloppier as you continued.

“y’know, leon? you’re like, totally hot! likeee, i haven’t met a guy your age that looks this good!” you babbled, giggling at your own words.

nodding, leon raised an eyebrow, “yeah?” he replied, he was getting force fed compliments by you, it was starting to get annoying, but he wouldn’t say that. 

you were like a puppy, he already made that connection,

but you were definitely one of those overly clingy puppies, the ones that whimpered and whined when their owner wasn’t in the same room they were in. you’d probably do anything to please your hypothetical owner, you already offered to do anything for a margarita, god knows the skies the limit with bimbos like you. 

he wondered if you would follow him out of the bar, like a puppy. where are we going? can i come with you? can you take me in?— okay, maybe not that last part, but he couldn’t be too sure. 

you’d have some cute floppy ears as a pup, leon thinks, but that was enough of the puppy metaphors, you were still giggling and babbling stupidities. 

after a bit of buttering up, leon decided that if he wanted to make a move on you, it was now more than ever.

you would be more than willing, that’s for sure.

taking out his wallet and calling over the bartender, leon fished out his black american express— sure, it was a silent brag, but he didn’t care. 

“i’ll pay for the lady’s drinks too,” leon explained as he signaled over to his side, the man nodded and took his card before stepping away to finish the transaction. you stared at the older man with stars behind your eyes, sparkling under the dim yellow light, “you’re so sweet,” you began, leaning in against his arm, batting your eyelashes up at him. 

your arms wrapped around him, hugging it, squeezing and feeling the muscle under the jacket that just so did a good job at hiding his build. 

your brain was starting to melt as you squeezed his biceps, “can i make it up for you? i can pay you back,” you cooed, words slurred slightly as you nuzzled your head against his jacket. it smelled nice, he smelled nice. his cologne was almost sweet, and masculine, but not musky and gross, it was so nice, he was just so nice. 

leon glanced down at you, taking back his credit card as he did so. 

you were so fucking desperate to get fucked it was almost laughable.

“you can make it up to me,” he hummed, his arm slipping around your smaller waist, his hand coming to rest against your hip, squeezing the flesh. 

“c’mon,” he nudged, patting your hip before he stood up from the stool and took hold of your hand, leading you away from the bar. it almost seemed like he was taking you to the back exit, was his car back there? you followed behind him, clinging onto his arm, you were nothing more than arm candy for him. 

as the music got softer and the chatter died down, leon lead you down the small hallway in the back of the bar, by where the bathrooms were. 

you assumed you would just walk past them and slip out through the back door, but instead, leon’s arm moved to rest behind your back, letting you walk in front of him before he pushed you into the men’s bathroom. 

stumbling, your gaze moved around the new setting. “leon! you didn’t need to push!” you whined, fixing your skirt as you looked back at the older man. leon was by the door, his hand holding the door knob as he shut the door behind him and locked it. “sorry, sweetheart, couldn’t have anyone see you. you’re not supposed to be in here.” he said, a small huff of amusement leaving his lips as he moved to face you. “men’s,” he reminded, pointing over at the singular urinal by the toilet. 

“oh, yeah,” you said, suddenly not seeing an issue with his actions. 

“why are we here?” you asked curiously, leaning against the sink, the bathroom was small, just a single-person layout. “you said you wanted to make it up for me, right?” leon reminded, you nodded, your head tilting to the side. “well, you’re gonna make it up to me here, that’s not a problem, right? there’s no harm in a bit of thrill.” he waved off.

“wait, we’re gonna fuck here? but that’s like, totally gross!” you whined, your lips curling into a small pout, leon stepped closer, “it’s not that bad, it’s just a bathroom.” he shrugged, he’s been in worse situations. he’s ran through sewers, lived off scraps in spain, and didn’t have access to showers, he’s been covered in blood and zombie guts before— safe to say, a meek little bathroom at a bar was the least of his worries. 

“but like, the floor is gross and sticky!” you whined, why couldn’t he take you back to his place? that’s so not cool! 

leon hummed, moving to press your body against the porcelain sink of the bathroom, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your hips nicely. “i’m not gonna throw you against the floor, sweetheart, relax,” he said, a small breath leaving his lips as he moved one of his hands against your upper back, applying pressure and bending you over the sink. your manicured hands moved and gripped the sides of the sink as your head leaned up. 

you locked eyes with leon through the mirror, he had the same brooding expression he’s been holding for most of the evening. 

leon’s gaze moved from your back to your pretty face as he gazed at you through the mirror, icy blue eyes meeting your warmer ones. “i’m gonna keep you here, yeah? bent over and pretty, so relax.” he explained, his hands moving back down to your hips, sliding down to grip your ass. he squeezed the flesh of your ass before his hands slipped your denim skirt up. 

“cute,” he complimented, tone coming out more monotone than he intended. you were wearing these cute literally lace panties, they were a cutesy little pastel pink. 

did you always wear these out or were you wearing these just so any guy that wanted to fuck you saw?

your face heated up, your eyebrows furrowing up slightly at his words as you glanced at him. a small whine left your lips, “do you like them?” you asked softly, arching your back nicely, popping your ass out, the curve of it showing off the cute little panties like it was a lingerie ad. or screenshot of a porn video. “yeah,” leon replied, “who are you trying to impress, sweetheart?” he asked, rubbing the curve of your ass idly. 

you bit your bottom lip and swayed your hips twice to side in a slow motion, “you?” cheeky. leon let out a scoffing laugh as his hand moved away from your ass before it came back down, smacking your flesh, your body jolted in surprise. “leon!” ouch! what the fuck! “sorry, i couldn’t help it.” leon said from behind you, looking at the mirror, you noticed the lazy smirk on his lips. 

“you’re mean, at least give me a warning.” you whined, “that would take away the fun, don’t be a baby.” leon grumbled.

pursing your lips, you let out a small huff, asshole!

leon’s hands moved to your panties, hooking his fingers around the waistband before he tugged them down unceremoniously. he was sloppy and drunk, besides, this was a quick bathroom fuck, he wasn’t going to play like the man of your dreams.

chewing on the inside of your cheek, you felt the bathroom breeze caress your exposed skin. 

leon didn’t care enough to push your panties down to your ankles, deciding to just leave them by your mid-thigh.

his hands reached back up to your ass before he angled your hips up slightly and slipped down to his knees. “leon—?” you were just about to ask what he was doing before you were cut off by a gasp being ripped out of your lungs, feeling his warm tongue press against your puffy pussy. 

leon’s lips were pressed against your cunt, one hand holding your thigh up as your weight rested on the porcelain sink, the edge of the sink still digging against your pelvis uncomfortably— but the attention to your pussy was making the discomfort a forgotten thought.

“leon!” you squeaked, your hand squeezing the sink as he sloppily licked and sucked on your cunt. 

was it the best head you’ve ever gotten? no, but you didn’t care— given that it was an older man and hotter than any grimy guy your age, you didn’t really care! 

huffing against your cunt, leon slipped his tongue between your folds, he wasn’t doing this to get you off either, but he didn’t have lube, so spit was the second-best option. with his eyes shut, his nails dug into your thighs, savoring the taste of your cunt. 

you kept your back arched and your ass stuck out as small mewls and whines left your glossy lips, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as your breathing got shaky. 

his licks were quick and sloppy, his own spit rolling down his chin, making his skin glossy before she pulled away from your cunt— a line of drool connecting his tongue and your cunt. 

you let out a noise of displeasure, that was so quick and anti-climactic!

standing back up, leon huffed as he stared down at you, catching the pout on your lips. “what? did you want me to go in without prep?” he asked, letting out a small breathy laugh, “should’ve just told me.” he shrugged, his hands slipping down to his pants as he sloppily undid his belt, fumbling with the leather.

“what? no!” without prep? that would hurt! 

“then stop pouting.” leon bit back. 

slipping his cock out of his pants, he let out a shaky breath as his hand wrapped around it. beating his fist around his dick, leon huffed, feeling his cock come to life slowly— the whiskey was making it hard to keep his cock up, but eventually, he managed a semi. 

good enough. 

moving his cock against your slick cunt, leon nudged the tip against your warm pussy, teasing your folds. letting out a small breath through parted lips, your eyes shut, focusing on the feeling. 

tilting his head to the side as his gaze stayed focused on your cunt, watching your spit covered folds spread as he rubbed his tip up and down your slit, slipping it under before he slapped his shaft against your puffy clit, watching your shoulders tense at the feeling:

“g’nna put it in,” leon mumbled, slurring his words slightly.

“o-okay.”

slipping his tip back against your slit, leon nudged his cock forward, his tip pushing apart your walls, they eagerly spread— warm and wet, welcoming his cock nicely. 

sucking in a sharp breath, leon clenched his jaw as his lips pursed, fuck, was the only thought in his mind.

feeling his cock push past your pussy walls in a slow, savoring pace, your eyes fluttered as they rolled back, your lips parting as a shallow gasp left your lips. gripping the porcelain sink, you whined. “leon..” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip as you raised your gaze to look at him through the mirror. 

“yeah?” he mused, his hips and thighs resting flat against your ass as he held your hips. meeting his gaze, his own eyes were lidded, face flushed pink, “i haven’t even started n’you’re already whimpered like a puppy.” he huffed, moving one hand to your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he yanked it back— making your back arch almost painfully. 

a sharp yelp left your lips at the movement, “..leave me alone,” you replied to his tease, your eyes shutting. 

leon said nothing in reply, instead, he pulled his hips back, feeling your walls hug him snugly, a shuddering breath leaving his lips as he did so. you might be a fucking idiot, but your pussy was making his brain numb. 

gasping out a moan, you felt his cock pull back before it slipped back inside your cunt, his cock nuzzling against your cervix. your pussy was practically a fleshlight if leon thought about it. 

drunk bathroom sex wasn’t something out of a dream or a porno, it wasn’t meant to be meticulous and romantic, it was gross and sloppy— that’s what this was. leon’s cock stuffing in and out of your pretty pussy at an uneven pace, hard, fast, and sloppy. 

“f—fuck—“ you choked out, your hand moving to rest against the mirror as you clung desperately onto something. your eyes were shut, lips parted into an ‘o’ shape as his cock bullied your pussy, “s-slow down!” you squeaked. leon groaned, “you can take it, relax.“ he muttered, hips snapping against yours, heavy balls slapping against your puffy clit. 

letting out a drawn-out moan, you shook your head dumbly, your brain mushy, “no..” you mumbled. yes, you could take it, if anything, you wanted it, but what happened to having fun? leon let out a small grunt, gripping your hair and making you arch more— he leaned over slightly and pressed a small kiss on your forehead, “your pussy is telling me otherwise, sweetheart.” he cooed, letting go of your hair before he gripped your forearms and brought them to your back, keeping them flush against your back before using them as leverage to continue fucking your cunt.

your eyes rolled back as your body rested against the porcelain, fuck! you were so turned on it was hard to place it into words—! you couldn’t even speak. 

guttural moans were leaving your lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, squeezing and gripping, sucking his cock back inside you greedily. 

while leon fucked you, he realized how increasingly louder you were getting. your pretty moans were nothing but an ego boost, but he shouldn’t be fucking a twenty-something-year-old girl in a public bathroom, he doubts the shitty country music that played through the bar speakers was going to be able to drown out your noise if you continue, so he moved to grip your wrists in one hand before he reached out from behind you and clasped over your mouth.

your cunt squeezed, “shhh,” leon cooed, “can’t let people hear you, remember?” he reminded, making sure you kept quiet. nodding, you moaned into his hand and squirmed, cheek pressed against the porcelain. 

mid-fuck, leon’s drunken mind realized something— 

he needed to fucking piss. 

he hasn’t realized it before, but now, his lower belly was aching, his full bladder making sure it’s known. 

he tried to ignore it, he just wanted to cum, honestly— but as he continued to slip his cock in and out of your cunt, the more his bladder ached. the organ crying out at him, all that whiskey from earlier was now aching to come out.. how many drinks did he have before? he doesn’t even remember. 

the pressure in his belly was increasing, he could feel his bladder tossle as he moved, if he pressed on his lower belly right now— right above his pubic bone— it would probably be hard. it was like a balloon, jesus. 

letting out a small hiss, leon muttered an “oh, fuck,” moving his hand from your mouth back to your hip, gripping the fat of your hip tightly. his brow furrowing and jaw clenching as he shut his eyes. 

he could pull out, sure, but he was already do fucking close— “..what happened?” you babbled after hearing the mutter coming from the older man after his hips stilled.

leon glanced over at your face through the mirror, you looked fucked out and faced, face of a fucking pornstar. 

“i gotta take a piss.” he mumbled, his hips stilling, but his cock still nuzzled inside you. “huh?” you mumbled, peeking your head up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “i have to piss.” he repeated, his face was flushed, was it because was embarrassed? because he was in the middle of fucking? or because he was drunk? he didn’t know. 

your mind wasn’t going— too stupid and fucked out to even think straight. 

“then go pee—“ you mumbled, assuming he needed to pull out and take a piss before coming back. 

leon stared down at your cunt, feeling your gummy walls squeeze him real nice, “how about i piss inside you?” he breathed, finding his words humorous, this seemed to bring you back to reality as your head perked up. “w-what?!” you squealed, “ew! don’t do that!” you argued, pee was gross already! and inside you? that’s worse!

leon let out an amused breath, “it’s just pee, sweetheart, why the fuzz?” he mumbled, sucking in a breath and feeling his bladder squeeze, making him shudder.

he already made up his mind.

leaning over you, leon pressed his body weight on your back, keeping you sandwiched over the sink. “everyone pees, don’t get all shy on me now.” he mumbled, pressing a kiss on your shoulder as you whimpered, your cunt squeezing him nicely. “no.. it’s so icky..” you mumbled, letting out a small breath.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his lips pressed against your skin, one of his hands slipping under your body and moving to press against your own lower belly, right above your pubic bone, he kept a firm pressure against your tummy.

“why lie to me?” he mused, “you’re practically choking my dick, if anything it’s like you want me to piss inside you.” he laughed, the alcohol in his system was staining his conscience in his moment. if he was sober, he wouldn’t have even thought about taking a piss inside of someone, but he wasn’t sober, and alcohol makes you do things you normally wouldn’t. so here he was. 

you shook your head slightly, but your cunt stayed tight, fluttering around him, were you really getting turned on by the idea of this man pissing inside you? what happened to you? what would your best friends say if they found out you were letting an older guy fuck you in a gross bathroom and finding it hot he wants to piss inside you? 

leon shuddered, okay— wait, it was getting harder to hold it in. becoming borderline painful. sucking in a breath, he shut his eyes, pressing his nose against your skin, he took in a deep breath— taking in the smell of your sickly sweet strawberry perfume, “i’m gonna piss.” he grunted out, a final warning for simple generosity. 

he might be a creep for fucking a dumb girl in a bar bathroom, but he wasn’t fucking evil. 

at least that’s what he tells himself.

keeping his body pressed against your own, his belly pressing against your curved back, keeping you trapped against the porcelain. 

letting out a shaky breath, leon let himself go, a type of bliss he hadn’t felt in a while enveloped him as the pressure in his bladder released. 

your eyes widened at the feeling, it was so weird! it was an icky full feeling, you could feel it slip out of you, staining your pretty pussy, thighs, panties, and floor. you winced, your eyes shutting, a small frown on your lips as you imagined who was going to clean this mess up. leon’s stream was long and hot, your shoulders were tense, feeling your pussy get filled with his warm piss— ew! 

“s’gross..” you gasped, squirming. 

“shh,” leon mumbled, keeping his hand firm against your lower tummy. 

once he finished, leon let out a deep moan, pissing with a hard-on was fucking hard! but finally, his bladder didn’t feel like it was going to explode, he pressed his face against your shoulder, his body shivering as he wrapped his arms around you and squeezed you. he let out a panting breath, his hips resting flush against your ass, you let out a small breath, with his body pressing against you and forcing you against the sink it was making it hard to breathe. 

“i can’t breathe—“ you gasped, clawing at the sink.

a small grunt left leon’s lips as he heard you, “shit, sorry.” he mumbled, pulling his body away from yours. moving your head up, you arched your back and took in a deep breath, feeling your pussy squelch, you swear there’s still some piss clogged up inside your cunt. 

your face felt hot, you were about to ask what he was planning to do now, but he beat you to it, moving his hips tentatively, feeling your cunt squeeze and squelch. his hands moved to your hips, squeezing your ass, his dull nails digging into your skin as his thrusts picked up the speed— finding the same sloppy pace from before. 

your brain was fuzzy, your head tilting to the side as a high pitched moan left her lips. 

leon’s cock rubbed against your gummy walls, rubbing against the spongy little spot right by your tummy that had you gasping. you bit your bottom lip and then whined, you had to keep quiet, remember? 

his balls kept slapping against your clit, kissing that bundle of nerves whenever his hips pressed against your ass. leon groaned— another sensation filling his lower belly, blossoming like a pretty flower as his balls swelled up. shutting his eyes, his pace started to get erratic, fucking into you like you were some sex doll, mumbling curses, he leaned his head back, his lips parting as he panted. 

squealing as he bullied your cunt, you whimpered, your words getting caught in your throat. you couldn’t think, you could barely even breathe, your pussy hugging his cock. 

“are you on the pill?” leon asked through gritted teeth as he fucked you— you couldn’t even process what he said, so you only moaned pathetically, “sweetheart,” he said, a little louder to bring you out of your brain fog, his hand moving to rest against the back of your head, “w—wha?” you babbled, “are you on the pill?” he repeated against, tugging at your hair, you whimpered and shook your head, birth control gave you ache! you quit it immediately! 

letting out a small groan, leon nodded, mumbling a small, “okay.” before he let go of your hair. 

your head fell downwards as his thrusts stayed rhythmless and sloppy, his balls felt like they were going to explode, but he didn’t want to pull out, fuck.

“cumming—“ he gasped, his cock twitching eagerly before his cum spurted out of his tip. moaning, he gave you a final thrust, nuzzling his cock inside your pretty pussy before his cum came out in small drools, filling you up nicely. 

your lips quivered as your walls pulsed around his cock, leon stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the last bits of his orgasm before he pulled out of your pussy— watching as his cum leaked out of your cunt before he shuddered. he stepped back, giving the puddle of piss on the floor a glace as he scowled— post nut clarity hitting him. 

oops.

he pulled his jeans back up and shoved his cock back inside his pants before letting out a small breath. 

whining, you moved your hand to your pussy, nimble fingers finding your clit as you rubbed it, “m’leon..” you mumbled, sticking your ass up as your back arched. leon looked back at you, “mhm?” he hummed, “help me.” you whined, still toying with your clit.

oh yeah, you haven’t cum yet. 

he typically wasn’t the type to stick around after a hookup, the magic dies after cumming, but he did piss inside you, the least he could do was get you off. 

“yeah, yeah, gimme a sec.” he mumbled as he zipped his pants up and fumbled with his belt before he stepped closer. 

he reached out, pulling you away from the sink, “c’mere,” he said as you finally got to stand up straight before he stumbled back and plopped down onto the toilet, sitting you on his lap before he spread your legs. he pulled you flush again his body, resting his head on your shoulder as his hands slipped down your tummy before finding your puffy clit. 

once his fingertips pressed against the nub, you shuddered, biting your bottom lip while you grasped his other hand as it was wrapped around your waist. 

leon was quiet as he rubbed your clit, feeling your squirm and twitch in his arms. 

whimpering, your eyebrows furrowed upward as your head leaned back, your orgasm wasn’t too far at least, after a few minutes of moans and gasps, your body tensed. your pussy felt hot, full, and soppy, “leon,” you gasped, wishing his fingers worked faster! 

he let out a small hum in reply, not really bothering to put effort — he was too drunk for that. 

as the tight coil in your lower belly tightened and tightened, a sharp gasp left your lips as it snapped, your hips shuddered as you came. 

your thighs clamped together, trapping leon’s hand between your plush thighs as you rode out your orgasm. your grip on his arm was still tight, your manicured nails digging into his leather jacket while you rolled your hips against his arm, practically humping his hand as you savored the friction against your cunt. 

“there you go,” leon cooed, pressing a small kiss on the side of your neck before he fished out his hand from between your thighs, watching his fingers glisten from your slick.

your legs trembled as you took in a deep breath, leon pushed you up, making you stand. he fixed your skirt and glanced down at your piss-stained panties, “uh,” he began, “you can throw those away.” he said, feeling guilty for ruining such a cute pair. you frowned, “but they’re my favorite..” you whined, they were so cute! and sure, you could take them home and wash them, but you didn’t want to parade around town with pissy panties, getting pissed in was enough for tonight.

sighing heavily, leon scratched his chin, feeling his stubble scratch his skin before he dug into his jacket pocket and dug out his wallet, “here,” he said as he finished out some cash, “get yourself a new pair, sweetheart.” he said, see he wasn’t so bad. “get yourself a plan b while you’re at it.” he said, handing you the cash.

blinking dumbly at him, you took the money, “huh?” 

leon stared back at you, god. fucking idiot. 

“get yourself a new pair of those cute panties, yeah?” he began, you nodded, “and get a plan b too.” he repeated. the clueless look on your face was both making him want to bash his head against a wall while also wanting to shove his cock in your mouth. “do you wanna get pregnant?” he asked, his tone having a hint of frustration in it. 

you shook your head, “exactly.” he sighed. 

“a plan b will help you not do that.” he explained, finally, a look of realization hit your fucked out face, “ohhh.” you said softly as you fisted the cash. 

“well—“ what the fuck does he say now? ‘thanks for letting me fuck you!’ no! that’s sounded stupid, fuck. 

letting out an exhale, he took your arm and nudged you forward. “come on,” he said before he guided you out of the bathroom, his steps were sped up since he didn’t want to be seen leaving the bathroom with a fucked out girl. 

once outside, leon noticed you were still following him like a lost puppy. 

“what are you doing?” he asked, did you not have better things to do? you were practically attached to his hip, “what?” you asked as you blinked slowly, “why are you following me?” he asked, a bit perturbed by your clinginess. 

you paused, “i don’t know.. i wanna go with you.” 

leon chewed on the inside of his cheek. he should’ve known you would’ve wanted to stick around— he had that thought before, but he didn’t think you would actually want to stay at his side.

moving to rub his forehead, leon let out a breath. 

c’mon, don’t pull on his heart strings like that. he couldn’t just leave you on the side of the road after a fuck like that. besides, you stared at him with those doe eyes of yours, you really looked like a lost puppy. 

“fine, okay, c’mon.” he sighed as he lead you to his motorcycle.

what the fuck did he get himself into?

TAGS! @nilpill @rigorwhoring @dollivication @gor3-hound @v0lturiaq @withonly-sweetheart @pupsmoke @flutterylust @angelstargel @ghosty-the-doll @mydarlingclaudia @lolachannel @t1nyb0nes @mj_el2709 @kerredgraveblog @tr3nzit444s @lilbunnyelle @cigarett3wif3

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Frequent flyer inflight entertainment.

This is smut, 18+ !

Synopsis; Word count ; 4548

Mark is one of constant movement, monthly space travel. No amount of time way from you is easy, his heart and his body yearns for you, always. You both decide to curate a *special* collection for when he misses you.

Content warning? ; Gentle Dom!Mark x Reader. Reader is afab (I do use words like beauty or pretty to describe them tho) the reader wears lingerie. This is written with an older mark in mind, but not necessarily stated.

Markie poo does get lil possessive in here so ..tehee

Kinks in this fic? ; Sex toys, recording a literal sex tape, blowjob, Missionary and doggiestyle.. teasing galore.

I read every comment and repost so please let me know what ya think!!

Special thanks to :

@sonnyvincible for the idea!

(I literally snatched it from them. )

@sobbingscripter for beta reading!

@batsovergotham for helping me figure out the dialogue and Mark’s character.

Author note

yall.. we are starved for some adult mark and dom mark content, I am here to fucking deliver. Ngl I had to fucking lock in for some of this cus writer block whooped my ass in the back of a Waffle House . When I tell you I was trying to put my foot into this fic 😭😭 I was trying to push past my usual 4,000 words limit. (I failed, fyi is what it is tho...) Also cus comic v show marks are different, we only have adult mark in the comics. (Tbh from what I’ve read he’s..a dick in comics, at least highschool/college which is like what kid isn’t? lmaooo) Anyways I digress enjoy

Mark’s head slouches into your lap, your fingers woven into his hair, a soothing tug earning a groan from your beloved boyfriend. 

His lips parted as another sigh slumped through as his shoulders twitched, shifting restlessly. 

“Mark, you're fidgeting. You always fidget when you're nervous about something. Spit it out.” 

“I am, I-I’m not! I’m just…”

You throw down a careless glare at him, a tight-lipped frown donning your face.

“Okay! Yes, I wanna ask you something.” His hands throw up, he could never last long against your watchful eyes. 

“Whatcha got, big boy? Always happy to hear you out!” 

Your fingers slot through his, before you're placing a disarming peck on his forehead, and then another on the front of his hand. 

His body lurches forward as he props himself up on his elbows, his back denying the worried look on his face before pivoting to face you. 

“I wanna try something new..” 

Your brows raise before sinking into a rested furrowed brow.

“We are NOT allowing Rex to be our third, Eve is cool though, I wouldn’t mind her. Or even like Ka —“

“Hey? Whoa whoa whoa! No, that is not what I meant?” Mark’s hands crisscross in front of his body, in front of your grinning face. 

“Just fuckin’ with you to make you feel better, sorry. I mean you wan—“ 

Now it was Mark’s turn to furrow his brow, and a laugh bubbles up from you.

“Go ahead! Tell me, Mark. Please? I’m on the edge!” 

Your charming smile constructs a moment of bravery in his chest as he exhales, “Okay. So you know how I travel into space sometimes, right?” 

You nod, listening intently. 

“Okay, and you know how much I miss you, right?” 

You cross your arms, nodding once more.

“And because we’re in space, I can’t talk to you.”

“Yeah, Mark I know, I miss you too.”

“Yeah because they’re no cell service in space so—“

“Mark, baby please get on with it?” You smack his arm gently, flailing your hand around after in pain, the stinging against your palm is momentarily blinding. You forget how hard his arms are sometimes. Like granite.

“Sometimes, I miss you in other ways and I have to use my imagination and I kinda don’t wanna do that anymore!” His words rush out before you can understand, your lids move rapidly as you try to grasp his sentence. 

“Wha— Mark, what do you mean you don’t want to have to use your imagination anymore? For what?” 

“Sometimes, I miss— how you feel under me, your moans..the way your head tilts back when you're about to cum.” 

Your breath falters, “Oh! Aw, Mark.. This that what you were scared to tell me? Pretty normal to miss your partner while you're gone, silly. “ 

“I— that’s not why I’m nervous. I want.. to—“ 

“Yesss?” 

Your body shifts forward as he speaks, “I— I wanna record us doing it so I can take it on missions when I miss you.”

“Record us doing what?”

“Sex.” 

Your brain buzzes with static, it’s Mark’s voice that hooks its finger into your soul as he speaks your name, snatching you back to reality.

“Promise not to show anyone else?”

“What? Of course not! It's for me only! I’d never do that. Gross.” His hands brush against your cheeks, the rough pads scratching against your supple skin. 

“Hey, you don’t have to. I don’t want to pressure you at al—“ 

“Let’s do it.” 

His warm palms settle onto your shoulder, a delicate squish in comfort. 

“Are you sure? You know you don’t have to, right?” 

“I know,” You swallow, “I trust you.” 

Your fingers trace soothing circles into his palm.

“Okay?” 

“Okay.”

A planted kiss seals the deal.

You clasp your hands together, “Soooo, how do we do this?” 

Mark palms the back of his head, as he juggles the question in his head, “I didn't think it through all the way, to be honest.“ 

“Mm, so do we wanna do homemade or do you wanna do a professional set?” 

—-

Mark furrows his brow as his fingers carefully tighten the phone tripod, his tongue poked out of pink lips. 

“How does the set look?“ 

Your feet shuffle against the well-worn floor, Mark's eyes flicker at you then to the tripod, a double take as he looks at you again. His craned back straightens as his mouth gapes. 

“Mark?” 

“You—- you look amazing, baby.”

“I do?” 

Your robe trickles off your shoulder, allowing a peak of the bold lingerie that adorned your body.

Mark’s feet were sluggish, staggered as they approached you, like a trance, his warm palms finding the fat of your hips, giving a good squish. 

“God, fuckin’ gorgeous..” His nimble knuckles brush against your face, a vow of his lips against yours. Your arms encircle his neck, leaning to his delicate touches. 

“Touchin’ me like I’m glass.” Your pupils shine, your nose rubbed against his as you giggle.

“Mmm, you are. You’re precious to me.” His fingers tangle in the strands at the back of your head, lightly scratching the nape of your neck.

His arms encapsulate you as he spins you around, and another giggle escapes your lips as he walks you backward in front of the cam. 

“Are you ready? Are you still sure you wanna do this? I’m happy to stop anytime.” 

He cups your face, thumb stroking your cheeks.

“Mark, yes.” Your hand palms his, “I’m okay, I’m just a little nervous and excited.., trying new things in the bedroom always does that to you.” 

You place another kiss on the slope of his nose, before turning towards the camera, tying your robe again. The twinkle in your eye as you toss a glance over your shoulder, grinning, “So, you can unwrap me on camera.” 

You can hear his blood pressure rise as his hands grip your clothed hips inching himself toward you. His hips pressed against your ass. 

His neck craned as his nose nudged your ear before placing a kiss upon the helix of it, “I’m going to fuckin’ ruin you.” 

A dark edge played in his words, his hand comes into view as he reaches over you to start the video. 

The phone camera blinks, as you stare at your face on the screen as he grabs your hips again shifting you back until you're both fully on the screen. 

Your eyes flutter as you look at yourself, heat rising in your tummy as Mark's lips grace your neck, small nibs at your skin tear your eyes away from the screen, as you tilt your head back, lids fluttering shut. 

His fingers trail to the lazily tied strap around your waist, letting the robe fall free, your lingerie is unveiled to camera.

Your toothsome skin is draped in scarlet lace bra and peek-a-boo panties.   

Mark’s eyes trail your body through the phone screen 

“Fuck.. I’m going to ravage you today.”  His words seep through skin, flushing down your spine as your body trembles.

“Come on, sit on the bed with me, baby.” The bed squeaks as he shifts up on the bed, you follow suit sitting between his legs.

“Yeah good, stay right here.” 

Your lips quiver as Mark’s arms split your legs open, your cunt was drenched already, the crotchless panties hide nothing from the camera, your pussy glistened. 

Mark’s fingers slide your pussy lips through before spreading them out, “So cute..”

A soft pant at his slow motions causes a chuckle from him, his hands brush against your chin. 

“Baby, could you look at the camera for me, please?” Mark's words brush your ear, as your chest heaves, your eyes settling on your body.

“Yes, just like that you’re doing wonderful, so beautiful.” 

He hasn’t even touched you yet but you looked fucked, your eyes looked feral, lips swollen as your chest pumping. 

“Why’d — why’d you have the screen pointed this way?” 

A sharp exhale as watch him lean over towards your nightstand, the unmistakable click of the top drawer, the toy drawer.

“To make sure I’m getting all the good angles, would suck if I missed all the action.” Mark's warm chuckle makes you roll your eyes, pads of your fingers rub against the top of his hand. 

“Mmhn, okay ‘Mr.Director..’ ” 

“Ooo, looks like you got your fire back?” Mark’s fingertips grip the flesh of your thighs, before releasing. 

“Hard not to be a little shy when you're staring at yourself, naked.”

“You’re not naked, technically you have lingerie on.” 

You sigh, “…Half-way naked, in your boyfriend's lap. Recording a porno for him to jerk off to later. In space, might I add!”

Mark’s chest vibrates against your back in a hearty laugh. 

“I don’t know,” His fingers tap your thigh, as he hunched over you, pressing you deeper into his chest, you feel a sleek toy inching closer to the dull heat growing at your core.

“So what's the first scene, Mr. Director ?” Your palms slip up the side of his face, your legs inch wider as you tilt your head back. 

“Mm, well. I’m thinkin—” An unequivocal buzz hums in your ears, your fingers flex instinctively. “Boyfriend tortures his partner’s clit for… mm, 10 minutes maybe? Who knows, maybe 30 minutes.” 

Your back curves before straightening as the clit sucker’s tenderly placed on your bud. “Mmhn..” 

“Feels nice, hm?” His breath heats the shell of your ear. 

“Mm, yes it does.” Your eyelids falter as your head lulls back. “More, please Mark..”

Your fingers grip onto his arms, squeezing firm flesh. 

“Tsk, mm no, not yet. Let it ride, no need to rush, baby.” 

“M’not tryin’ to rush but—“ You reach for the hand holding the vibrator, trying to push it harder against your clit, to no avail, his hand doesn’t budge. Mark laughs at your attempts, 

“It’s not funny, Mark!” You groan, your ass wiggles against his bulge, a sharp inhale comes from behind you. 

“Keep wiggling, I'll have to pin you down.”

“Is that a challenge?” 

Your half-alien boyfriend rolls his eyes, “Mm, maybe I should turn it up more, you're clearly still too lucid.” 

“Yes, please.”

The vibrator is pressed harder against you, pleasant but low body, another groan. 

“You said you’d turn it up!”  

 “Always soo impatient… Don’t worry sweetheart, I gotcha.” 

Your back tweaks forward violently as the vibrator is clocked on the highest setting. “Mark! Holy—“ 

A shudderly moan slams out of you as your hand grip his again, trying to pull it away. “A— Too much!” 

“Noo, you said you wanted me to turn it up so I did.” Mark’s lips nip at your neck before leaving a trail of kisses down your shoulder. Your body jerks away from his touch as that aching pressure builds in your stomach. 

Mark’s arm rests across your stomach, hand clamped to your torso, “I told you if you keep moving, I’ll have to pin you down.” 

“Ma— please!” You whine, your legs are autonomous, kicking in random directions before Mark's legs topple yours, pinning them open, your pussy spread out as wide as it could be to the camera.

“God, look at you.. you can see your whole fuckin’ pussy on display. Do you see that? Hm?” Mark’s words set your ears on fire. 

“I- Wha-” 

Mark grips your chin, making it level with the phone screen, “Look at yourself, baby.” 

You try to shake your face side to side as Mark holds it.

“Mm, if you don’t look, baby, I’ll make sure to keep edging you juuust like this.” the vibration that was assaulting your clit slowed, you grunt involuntarily. 

“Noo- Mark, please! Turn it back on, please!” You rasp out, before a gasp hiccups from you when the vibe is turned on again, “Mmar—“ 

“All you have to do is look at yourself on the screen baby and I’ll stop teasing you.” 

The vibe buzzed on the highest setting, your body jolts again, “Fuckfuck— please I’msoclos—“

That warm intense feeling is rising in you once more as you feel yourself start to relea— The vibe completely turns off. 

 

Another whine passed through your lips, your nostrils flared as you threw your head back against his shoulder. A deep shuddery breath as you inched your head back to the screen. 

Mark’s face was dangerously calm, a soft smile playing on his lips as looked at the wreckage he’s causing your body.

Your body shook with feverish intensity, you locked eyes with yourself in the mirror, you looked dazed. 

“See, aren’t you so pretty?” 

You slowly trail down all of the small, finger bruises taking a sharp appearance on your cheeks before your eyes land on your cunt. It’s glistening, glossy with your own juices,

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “I look fucked..” 

“Mm, no you aren’t fucked yet, baby.” He flung toy aside, his eyes trained on you as he planted another searing kiss.

You feel like you're being swallowed whole, his tongue clinked against your teeth as his fingers plunge into your cunt. 

A quivering moan becomes an open invitation for his tongue to plunge deeper into your mouth. His tongue takes over yours. 

His fingers accelerate as pulls away, lids low as his pupils study your face, tracing over your newly swollen lips.

“God, what I am gonna do with you, you’re already so fucked out..” His hand slaps your clit before his onslaught continues.

“Can you even continue, hm?” 

You nodded in uneven spasms, your thoughts too scattered to form full sentences, “I— yes..con-continue!” 

“That’s a big word for you right now, good job..!” 

Another pathetic whine rips out of you, his fingers curl in that one deliciously deep spot that covers your vision in white. 

“Are you about to come?” 

Your head bobs as you hiccup another whine, “Yes— I—“

“Gonna come all over my fingers? Go ahead, let go for me.” Your name from his mouth was basically a trigger word, your body seized as another broken sob is wrenched out of you, your fingertips would’ve left bruises on his arms if he wasn’t superhuman. 

Your legs slack, as you struggle to catch your breath, “Mark..“ 

“Shh.. That’s it, breathe. You did great.” His knuckles knead your tummy as your cheeks are swarmed with more smooches. 

“Mmhn, that was so mean.” Your lip protrudes out in a pout. You lean back to give a quick peck, before slipping your legs out of his, straddling his lap. With a careful shift, he turns you just enough for the camera to frame both of your silhouettes.

You both linger in the moment, your hands tracing slow patterns in his hair, your fingers tugging at the tuffs scratching, as his hands trace down your body.

You breathe in each other Intoxicating essence, eyes sync as you inhale delicate kisses. 

“I love you,” His digits squish your hips as his eyes crinkle. “God, I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” 

You feel his dick twitch underneath you, “I think your dick loves hearin’ me say that too, haha.”

Mark’s cheeks tint a soft shade of pink, “Say it again, please..” his thumb strokes your cheek. 

“I love you, Mark Grayson.” A kiss, a vow from you on his lips. 

“I love your spirit.” A kiss to his neck.

“I love your personality.“ A kiss to his pecs.

“And god, this body of yours.” A kiss to his chest.

A smirk graces your face as you feel a shiver pass through his body as your chest just above his V-line. 

“I love how reactive you are.” Your fingers trace his V-line to his happy trail.

You shimmy off his pants, his cock swells, popping out of his waistband before you even get his pants off. 

“Stay there.” 

You stand, taking a moment to stare at your suddenly meek boyfriend. Your breathy laugh reaches his ears as you grin. 

“Jesus, don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” You look back at the camera before scooting over, so his face is on display again. 

“You got that lost puppy look right now, it’s cute.” 

“God, I hate when you say that.” His palm pressed against his mouth.

“No, you love when I say that.” 

“What are you doing anyways? Just standing over me? Doing nothing..This is torture. ” 

“Oh, so you can tease me for 10 mins but I can’t just.. stare at your cock?” You lean over, Mark leans back instinctively. Your hands run down his chest and stomach, dragging your nails down the sinewy muscle. “Or feel these fuckin’ hot ass abs.” 

Your fingers flex as Mark’s chest rumbles in laughter. 

“Mm, yes I do like my ‘hot ass abs’, glad you do too.” 

You turn on your heels, a slight slip towards the tripod, “Don’t you think we should switch up the P.O.V.?” You pop the camera out from the stand. 

You shuffle back to Mark’s contorted face as you shove the phone in his hand, “Here, hold it.” 

Mark’s eyebrow quirks, “Uh? Okay?”

You plop back down to your knees, his cock at eye level now. 

“Flip the camera this way.” 

You let a small chuckle as his skin twitches at your light touch, your fingers trace up and down his shaft. 

You glance up through your lashes, at the glow of the white recording dot “ You still recordin’?” 

You bite your lip as Mark’s Adam’s apple bobbed, he nods. 

“Good.. I love you, Mark, you know that?” 

“Yeah..” He rasped out.

“Just a yeah?” Another smirk plays on your lips as you give his cock a shallow pump, his breath hitched. 

“Yes— yes, I love you too.”

Your hand flicks in a constant rhythm as you observe, watching his face slowly crumble. Your eyes stay level with the camera, watching the way his eyes well up.

“Baby, please. Go faster..” 

You press a kiss onto his shaft, “ I miss you so much, Mark..” 

You giggle to yourself mentally as Mark's brows flutter in confusion before his eyes widen in understanding. 

“I can’t wait to see you again, especially this big cock of yours.” You lick a long stripe of saliva up his cock before taking the mushroomy tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the base.

Mark’s hips spasm as you take him deeper into your mouth, your cheeks hollow. Mark’s whimper fuels your fire, your eyes never leave the camera and his eyes, as you continue to take him down your throat, gagging. 

You stay there for a moment, his cock down your throat and you breathe in his scent as his happy trail tickled your nose. 

Mark’s face was flushed with desire, his chest heaved as he watched in awe. 

“Baby..” 

You pull away from his cock with a satisfying *pop*. 

“Such a pretty fuckin’ dick, I can’t wait to fuck you again.”

You slap his cock on your tongue before letting it rest on the side of your cheek, “Please come back home safe to me, Mark. I love you. “

You place another kiss on the tip before grinning, “Is that good content or what? I think I should keep goin’ but is there anything you want me to say in lik—?” 

Your throat bobs forcing air out from your lungs as your body is hoisted into the air abruptly, his sturdy hands span your waist. The clatter of the phone echoes in the room as you gaze into his eyes. 

His eyes held the weight of romance but also something darker, possession. 

“Mark—?” 

Your feet dangle as you watch his mouth exhale, eyes dart from your lips then the bed then back to you. Hesitation is stale in the air. 

Swift. 

Your back meets the mattress, his legs on either side of you lose at your waist, a bruising sensation. His glossy pupils watched you like they wanted to engulf you, animalistic. 

The phone abandoned at the side of the bed.

“Mark, the phon—“ You scooch up to escape his legs, flipping yourself onto your stomach, your ass in the air. 

Your hands scramble on the ground blindly to find the phone. ”Ah, here it is—“ 

“Fuck the phone, I need you.” Mark growls out as you feel his cock prod your cunt. 

“Mark! Lemme just set it back— fuck!” Your toes curl, scrunching bed sheets, your whimpers escaping your breath as the pleasure cascades down your spine. 

Your hands clutch on the phone, trying to prop it on a loose pillow as Mark pounds into your backside. 

“Babybaby— fuck arch, arch your back.” His warm hand feels like fire as his fingers smooth down your spine. ”Yeah, justt like that…!” 

“Mark— fuck! Wai— holy fuck ..You’re so Dee—“ Your body trembles as his cock reaches to the deepest pits of your desire, the whites of your eyes overtake your pupils.

“Say— say my name again, fuck..!” 

“Ma— mark!” 

“Yesyes, yeah, god. I hope you realize every time.”  His thrusts ripple through you, your vocal cords fry as scream. 

“Eh-every fuckin’ time! I‘ll— shit. Watch that video….the way you looked at the camera, at me?” His breath fans the shell of your ear as your body is caged against his chest.

His hand creeps up your thighs, your stomach, your mounds, to your delicate neck. His hold wasn’t one of anger or possession, but one of reassurance, grounding.

A slight squeeze at the base of your throat has your lashes fluttering as the whites of your eyes show momentarily, and involuntary, a shudder shakes through both of you.

“Fuck, you’re grippin’ me even harder now,  you like me holding you there? Hm? My hands all over your b—ahn! Hands runnin’ everywhere?” 

Another breath heaves out of you, “Oh God—.” 

“Tsk, Mm, nonono—haah.. Just me and you here in this bedroom, sweetheart.” 

Your cheek smushes deeper into the previously fresh linens, as bleary eyes drag up to the phone. It pulls your attention. Your eyes flutter sluggishly as your focus on the glowing screen.

Your pants fog the lens as you breathe, your sweat-slicked chest heaves again as your tongue lolls out shamelessly. Drunk on pleasure, drunk on him. 

It was like a true porno. 

“Baby, y— mm, I need you—, I need to see your face, see how I’m ruining you, see how you're mine.

The room spins as the sheets hit your bare back, blurry lines of his face sharpen. 

His heavy eyelids, blown pupils hang over yours. His pink tongue swipes away the sheen from his lips. 

His lips smash against yours, like he’s starving, drinking you in. Teeth grazing your bottom lip, his tongue invading your mouth as you try to chase the wet muscle back, uselessly. 

A shine of saliva is the only evidence of the silent fight. 

“There you are, fuckin’ beauty.” He coos.

You left out a breathy noise, a poor attempt at a chuckle.

What came out, however, was a pathetic whimper, and if it wasn’t for the smirk forming on Mark’s face, you would have assumed it wasn’t you.

Purposeful whimpers leave your lips now as you track Mark’s eyeline to the blinding phone screen. 

 

His arms cage you as he lunges across you to the phone, your eyes zero in on the sudden light of the phone.

“Aw look at you, baby.” He coos oozing fake empathy. The pads of his thumb brush against your swollen lower lip, where his teeth grazed preciously. 

His thumb slips through your plush lips, rubbing small circles on your tongue.

His pearly white teeth shine in the low light, predatory. He looks like Temptation Incarnate. 

His hips snap forward, you choke, a gasp sharp ripping from your throat. 

“Maa—“ 

Another harsh slam into your g-spot. 

“You can take it, baby. Can’t you?” 

Your babbling nonsense words slurring and sliding together, hands grasping at nothing before they press themselves against your eyelids, blocking the camera’s view of your watery eyes. 

“You don’t want me—!h-hah’ve to pin you down again, do you?”

Trembling quivers through your body draw another gasp, a needy gasp, one of salacious intent, one that drives him crazy. 

”Don’t you wanna look— mmm, good on camera, f’me?H—hm?” 

His thrusts are demanding, searing himself into your body. Your toes curl as his dick grinds into your sweet spot. The glint of his smile never wavers, drinking in your reactions. 

“Too..mu—ah..!” Your hands lash out, clawing at his arms, scarlet markings decorate his skin as your head makes a thud noise against the pillow.

His features blur as your body buzzes with adrenaline, legs taut as they straighten, your throat extends as his face starts to disappear from your view.

“No no, sweetheart. e-ah..eyes up here, on me.” His finger hooks your chin. You babble nonsense pleas ending with the unmistakable sound of his name falling from your lips.

“The—there we go, suc—such a sweet thing yeah fal—fall ap-apart for me.” 

His thumb traces idle circles, a loving touch, a delicate movement compared to the iron clasp he has on your jaw. Your eyes drift between his feral eyes and the phone's winking light. 

“Shh, it’s ok—ah..! It’s okay. Let go f’me.”  

Your vision is swimming, no more attempts at words. Only tremulous whimpers and whines claw through your throat. 

You break. 

Splintering into shards, every nerve on fucking fire as a scream is torn from your body. Sobs and tears flow freely from your mind. Heaven wasn’t just a word right now, you were experiencing it. 

“God, seeing your dazed face makes me wanna go another round”

“Mark—” You huff. 

“God! You just came, Jesus give your-yourself a break” Really, you meant ‘give me a break, I just saw heaven for a moment and you want me to go again?’

“I didn’t cum.”

Your head cranes upwards as you eye him incredulously. “ What.” 

“I— uh. I didn’t cum I was too focused on making sure you were feeling good and.. looking good on camera.” 

Those big doe eyes appear on his face like magic, they melt your resolve, though most were already fucked out of you. 

“I— do wanna.. to go again?” 

“YES! I - I mean.. Yes, but could.. Could you finish me off with a blowjob?”

“Uhm, yeah yeah of course but.. why a blowjob? Usually, you like.. to—“ Your face burns like a furnace. “To cum inside me.” 

His features mirror yours, “I know..! But, uhm.. I’ll be honest hearing you say that stuff while sucking me off.. I — wanna hear more. I promise not to interrupt this time..” 

You giggle, letting sweat-slicked hair weave through your fingers. Tentatively pressing a kiss on his forehead.

“Mm okay, tough guy.” 

—- 

“I’ll be retiring to my chambers, please don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency.” 

His shipmates do a curt nod as he disappears into his cabin.

“Mark, please”  

His breath falters as he pumps his cock. 

“Fuck, harder. Please mark?” 

A quiet whimper blooms into the room, ships aren’t soundproof. 

“God, I’m so full, Mark”

Pleasure is riding as breaths ignites. 

“Pleas—hhn! Cum in me, please I wann— I wanna feel you.” 

He curses under his breath, 

“Mark, I love you, come back to me, okay?” 

Sobs of pleasure wave through his body. 

White sheets littered with globs of cum. 

“Fuck.”

[yandere-writer-momo]

I decided to make this ghost incredibly desperate. He yearns and he’s so pathetic.

Yandere Short Stories:

The Love From the Dark

Yandere Victorian Ghost x Fem Reader x Author Fiancé

TW: toxic relationship, character death, descriptive MURDER, body horror and decay, suicide (mention), horror elements, Yandere themes, unhealthy relationship dynamics, PATHETIC MAN, delusional behavior, and themes that should not be romanticized in real life

The sun’s rays momentarily blinded (your name) as the moving van turned the curve up the hill towards their destination. The wind from the open window tousled her hair with its invisible fingers. A smile now painted on her face from its soothing ministrations.

This was a fresh start… one her fiancé, Clayton, insisted they take together. The Victorian home would give him the perfect inspiration to defeat his writer’s block and finish his horror book… all because the house was rumored to be haunted.

“It’s rumored to be crawling with paranormal activity. Not to mention it was a steal! It has the perfect environment for me to write a horror book. Are you not supportive of me?” Clayton’s words replayed in her mind like a tape on an endless loop.

The couple hardly spoke to one another anymore, Clayton was so consumed in his writing that he almost didn’t exist in reality anymore save for driving, sleeping, or eating.

(Your name) constantly walked on eggshells around him in order not to tip the delicate scale of their relationship towards separation. She’s been with him for so many years that she couldn’t imagine a life without him. Even though he was no longer a man she recognized.

Ten minutes later and their van finally made it to their new home… and it was the creepiest looking house she’s ever seen. Some of the grey paint was peeling on the sides and all the surrounding trees were still barren despite the season being spring. Not to mention the large murder of crows that snuggled their little black bodies on the roof.

“…this place looks like a haunted house out of a paranormal film. I’m not sure if this is a good idea-“ but she was instantly met with a scoff.

“I don’t want to hear it. This is for our future and for my book.” Clayton rolled his eyes at her concerns. “It’s only for a few months, then we can move somewhere else. It’s not like ghosts are actually real. It’s just the perfect ambience for a horror book, plus the study has a view of a cemetery on the plot.”

(Your name) glanced at the house once more, its eerie presence caused a shiver rolled down her spine.

Yet there was a familiar feeling that crept into her mind. Why did it feel like she’s been here before?

.

.

.

The moment the couple entered, they were shocked to the core. The interior was in perfect shape. It was almost as if they entered a Time Machine back to the early 19th century.

Yet what caught (your name)’s eye was the giant portrait of a woman who looked identical to her in the grand living room right above the fireplace.

She walked forward and gently placed her hand on the fireplace, her fingers traced the smooth stone in wonder. Not a spec of dust lifted onto her finger tips.

That portrait wasn’t just similar to her appearance, it was eerily her exact appearance. It was an uncanny coincidence. One that made her stomach do summersaults to the point of queasiness.

“Clayton… I don’t think we should be here.” She expressed worry once more, but he loudly clicked his tongue in disagreement.

“Tsk. It’s probably just a coincidence. You’re looking too much into it.” He then brushed past her to head up the stairs. He was determined to claim that study. He had seen its grandiose design on the realtor site prior to purchase. It even overlooked the entire manor. Whoever built this home must have been loaded.

(Your name) frowned. She just couldn’t understand why her fiancé had changed so much. He was now married to work rather than about to marry her. She was so lonely within her own relationship and that made her even more depressed.

She studied the grand room one last time a frown on her face when she noticed a different portrait that had its face torn apart. Someone must have had a fit of anger when they did that from his damaged it was.

(Your name) shook her head clear and decided to explore. Maybe this house wouldn’t be so bad…

Yet if she glanced in the corner of the room, she’d notice the eyes of the destroyed portrait in the corner had moved.

“(Your name)?” A raspy, masculine voice heaved. His voice scratchy and low like he hadn’t spoken in ages.

Black liquid oozes from the eyes of the portrait like tears. His wife came home… she was finally home.

.

.

.

(Your name) felt sick to her stomach when she saw every single room had a portrait of her likeness in it. There was no way it was a coincidence now. This was intentional.

She felt an overwhelming feeling bubble in her stomach. It was a kind of feeling that pray felt when it sensed a predator. She needed to leave. She needed to get out of here right this second.

Knock. Knock.

(Your name) knocked on the door of Clayton’s study. Her hands trembled a leaf in a strong wind. She was so scared… she needed comfort and reassurance more than anything right now.

“Clay? Clay I’m scared.” She stated outside the door.

Her fiancé didn’t answer. Her shaky hands quickly, went to hold her arms in order to soothe herself. The anxiety began to painfully, squeeze her chest.

“Clay? I’m serious. This house… something isn’t right here. There’s so many portraits. Can we please leave? Please-“

The door opened so fast, a gust of wind blew her hair back a bit. Clayton’s cognac eyes were filled with annoyance as he glanced down at her.

“Seriously? I’m writing right now, the writer’s block is finally gone. Can’t you do this attention seeking behavior some other time?” Clayton’s words were spat at her like the venom of a snake.

“Clay, I’m not lying. Please. I’m scared-“

“I don’t have time for this. I have a book to write. Why don’t you go to bed and I’ll join you after a bit, hm? It’s just a few months here so you’re going to have to deal with it.” Clayton waved her away with a flick of his left hand. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. And I doubt someone would make so many portraits that look like you.”

Before she could get in another word, the door slammed shut on her face. A frown now etched on her soft features.

She just wanted a hug and to be told it’d be okay… she hadn’t meant to annoy him.

She turned on her heel to walk away so Clayton didn’t hear her sniffle. She hated when she cried in front of people… especially when she knew he wouldn’t comfort her.

The lights flickered on the walls as she walked past. The entity lurked in the hall by the study.

“Don’t cry… don’t cry…” his raspy voice was as soft as a breeze. “Don’t leave me.”

.

.

.

(Your name) picked a room on the west wing of the house to have to herself. She was still upset about that argument with Clayton. He still had locked himself into his study like a petulant child despite the clock on the hand that hit ten o’clock at night.

She had found a portrait of a woman that looked like her in every room and expressed she was terrified yet Clayton brushed her concerns off like the typical horror movie protagonist. He insisted the paranormal didn’t exist and this was all merely a coincidence. That his priorities lied in the completion of his horror book.

Did she really mean so little to him? That writing meant more to him than his own fiancée? Haven’t she didn’t wanna think about it too long because it would only made her more upset.

She crawled into the soft queen sized bed, the curtains to her canopy kept her shaken form concealed to anyone who may past by… not that there was anyone else here but Clayton. And he was locked away in the study in the east wing.

(Your name) felt herself waver before the first few tears finally began to fall. She just couldn’t understand why Clayton had become so selfish. Was she not lovable anymore? Had she done something to make him uninterested? She just wanted to be loved again like she used to be.

An hour went by before she cried enough tears to nearly drown herself in a river of dreamless sleep.

Yet before everything went dark, she felt something icy cold cradle her face I a reverent manner. Had Clayton come to check on her? She knew he still cared deep down. That he wouldn’t let her go to bed lonely as he had in the last few months.

At least that was what her sleep addled mind allowed her to believe. It was a poor attempt of self comfort on her part, but she was too groggy to find falsity in that thought.

She let sleep take her as its prisoner once she assured herself of the who owned those cold hands. A foolish move on her part.

But those hands did not belong to her beloved Clayton… no. It was the shadowy hands of something far more sinister.

“It is you…you’ve finally come back to me.” That raspy voice echoed through the room. “I won’t mess up this time. I’ll be a good husband. I’ll take care of you…”

If only she had went with her gut feeling… Clayton’s hands were never cold.

.

.

.

(Your name) woke up to her body being wrapped comfortably in blankets and a glass of water on the bedside table. Two tabs of acetaminophen were even placed next to the crystal glass cup. A soft smile lit up her features.

Had Clayton laid with her for a bit like he used to? Oh she had missed those times so dearly. Maybe there was hope for them. He hadn’t been thoughtful in ages…

She happily accepted the glass of water and pain pills before she began to get around. She should make breakfast for them to show her appreciation.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Clayton had fallen asleep in the study. His brown eyes slowly opened to wake up to the giant portrait of a woman that looked like (your name).

Hadn’t he covered that blasted picture up with a blanket?

He rose up to cover it once more but he noticed a paper placed on the desk written in furious red calligraphy. A writing style one would see in the 19th century rather than modern time.

Do not cover up my wife.

Wife? Who on earth wrote that?

Clayton glanced at the portrait once more, the smallest hint of unease hit him before it was gone.

This home was only for a few months. At least until his rough draft was finished. There couldn’t possibly be such a thing as ghosts, right?

He heard a knock at the door and saw his fiancée’s smiling face.

“Can we have breakfast together? It’s been a while since we’ve enjoyed a simple meal.” (Your name) smiled at Clayton who sighed.

“Maybe once I’m done with this page.” Clayton replied coolly. His amber eyes flicked back over to the writings that were scribbled on various sheets. “I’m very busy with the book.”

“…I understand.” (Your name) tried to mask her discontent with a reassuring smile, but if Clayton were to actually pay attention, he’d notice how strained the smile was. “I hope to see you soon.”

Their relationship had finally approached its finality and Clayton wasn’t even aware that the straw was about to break the camel’s back.

.

.

.

(Your name) waited a few hours in the morning for Clayton to eat with her. The warm food eventually went cold as she was met with disappointment once more.

A hiccup fell from her lips before she could stop it. A sob soon followed. There truly was no hope for this love to bloom again. The flowers of love were dead at last.

Yet in her frustration, she was unaware of the entity observed her from the shadows. A giddy gleam in his beady black eyes.

His wife… she needed him. And he wouldn’t let her down this time.

“Don’t worry, my love… I’ll make sure you love home and never want to leave me. You’ll never cry again.”

.

.

.

Clayton heard a clicking noise out in the hall. A sigh fell from his lips in annoyance. Did (your name) not understand he was busy? Wait… he promised to have breakfast with her.

Clayton turned his head toward the grandfather clock and cursed. It was nearly eight at night! Had he truly lost himself in his own little world for that long? He couldn’t imagine how upset his fiancée was…

He went to the door to open it but the handle wouldn’t budge.

Click. Click. Click. Was it locked from the outside?

“(Your name)? I’m sorry I didn’t come down for breakfast but you don’t have to lock the door.” Clayton rubbed the bridge of his nose. This wasn’t normal for her. She would never be this petty.

Click. Click. Click.

“(Your name) I’m serious. Open this door!” Clayton began to toggle the door hand even harder but it wouldn’t budge. It was almost as if the doorknob had been welded rather than locked. “(Your name)?! (Your name)-“

“She can’t hear you.” Clayton whipped his head around when he heard a raspy voice in the room with him. The hair stood up on the back of his neck when he realized he was the only person in the room.

“Who’s there?” Clayton hissed, his cognac eyes wildly searched the room. “Show yourself.”

Clayton jumped when the flames in the fireplace jumped to life. The flames nearly licked the carpet before it. What in the world?

“I don’t think someone like you could possibly comprehend what I am… so why don’t you take a seat for me, Clay.”

Before Clayton could spit out a retort, the floorboards suddenly came to life and slid him forward toward the armchair by the fireplace like a slide on a playground. What? This had to be a dream…

“You’re not a very good man.” The ghost told him. “You remind me of myself when I was alive. I was also so selfish and stubborn.”

Clayton wasn’t able to utter a word before an invisible force slammed him down to sit in the vintage recliner. The soft, mustard yellow fabric did little to calm him as the flames danced more violently in the fireplace. Ghosts weren’t real… he’s never believed in them before.

“I asked you to politely take a seat, but you seem to be the kind that has to learn the hard way.”

Clayton watched a shadowy, masculine form in the corner of the room as the figure made his way over to stand before the fireplace. His shadowy hand grasped the fire poker and stirred the wood.

“I was once a work oriented man. A wealthy merchant back then. I thought this beautiful house was all it would take to keep my lovely wife happy…” the entity continued to stir at the fire in thought. “She was so lovely, you know. So loving and kind. I took her for granted.”

Clayton could only listen in shock as the entity sighed. The ghost set down the fire poker to gently trace over the portrait of the woman who looked eerily similar to (your name).

Clayton felt a lump form in his throat. (Your name) had been so worried about those portraits and he had brushed her off. God he wished he had listened.

“My beautiful wife… it’s my fault she left me.” Bang! The entity suddenly slammed his fists into the wood above the fireplace. “She took her own life, all because I made her feel so lonely! But… but she returned to me.”

Clayton’s blood went cold as the temperature suddenly dropped in the study. What did the ghost mean by that? Was (your name) in danger?

“Listen, (your name) and I didn’t mean to disturb you. I think we will leave-“

Clayton didn’t have time to scream before the fabric of the recliner wrapped around his face and applied pressure. His fingers clawed at the wool fabric in vain.

“Leave? You’re not taking my (your name) away!” The entity hissed. Clayton soon felt more pressure held to his face and even around his throat. His hands clawed desperately at air. “This isn’t anything too personal, you’re just in the way of me reuniting with my beloved.”

Clayton felt his eyes roll back as he kept trying to fight the entity. He would never get the chance to apologize to (Your name). To tell her that he loved her. To hold her one more time and feel her kisses. He didn’t want to die. Not like this.

“Your body will do. Oh it’s been so long since I’ve had a body… I’ll take such good care of her this time. She’ll never be lonely again!”

Clayton felt his world go black, his heart finally stopped. The entity then released Clayton, the body flopped onto the floor with a thunk.

The entity stroked the purplish hue away from Clayton’s face. The entity soon hummed “here comes the bride” as he dug his shadowy hands into Clayton’s mouth to enter.

“My wife… my beautiful wife. We’re together again now.”

.

.

.

(Your name) stirred awake when she felt a hand touch her face. Her eyes slowly opened to see Clayton’s familiar silhouette.

“Clay?”

“Shh… go back to sleep, darling.” Her face scrunched up a bit in confusion. Darling? Clayton never used pet names. He always said they were childish.

But she didn’t argue when she felt a body beside hers in the bed. Clayton’s lean arms pulled her close as a nose buried itself into her neck to deeply inhale her scent.

“I missed you… I missed you so much.” He murmured into her skin before he pressed a few kisses to her neck. Yet they felt strangely cold.

“I missed you too.” She held his hand. A few tears slipped down her cheeks like a leaky faucet. “So much…”

“Shh… I’m here now.” Clayton whispered into her skin. “And I’ll never leave you alone again. I swear.”

She smiled as she let his honeyed words comfort her. It was so nice to finally be held again.

A shame this wasn’t Clayton. That he was the lonely entity that possessed this house that finally had its wish come true… a second chance.

.

.

.

(Your name) hummed as she made breakfast. The smell of bacon and fresh eggs filled the air.

For the first time in two months, Clayton came down to have breakfast with her. He sat eagerly at the table in the strangest of clothes. She didn’t know why he was wearing 18th-century clothes, but who is she to judge? She wasn’t a writer. Maybe he was in cosplay to get in the mood to write his story?

Clayton had even set the table with utmost manners he never displayed in his life. He must be really committed to this elegant character he presented himself as.

She served him his plate and paused at the weird, pungent smell he had. That was odd… Clayton never smelled like that before.

“Clay? You have a rather… peculiar scent.” (Your name) softly notified him. She knew how much Clayton hated when she was too blunt, so she always had to dance around her words in order not to hurt his feelings.

Clayton froze for a moment before he gave her a smile. “ I must be dirty from all that time I spent in the study. I’m so sorry, my darling.”

There was a pet name again. The darling…

“Clay? Are you sure you’re alright? You’ve never called me, darling before…”

Clayton’s fork and knife paused mid cut of the bacon. Another weird habit she never saw before.

“I haven’t? Do you not like it?” He asked, his brow furrowed with worry. “How about I call you my love instead?”

She shook her head and smiled. “You’ve just never used pet names before… I like them.”

Clayton then gave her a warm smile as he spoke once more. “Then I’ll call you all the pet names you’d like.”

Her heart fluttered. It had been so long since her fiancé paid attention to her and it felt so nice.

Clayton watched the way her cheeks flushed in pure joy. She looked so pretty when she was happy. He’d make sure to always keep her like that… but first he had to solve his problem with this body.

He would hate to rot so quickly on her. He would have to shove some posies in his pockets to mask the scent until he found a better solution.

.

.

.

A few days went by and she noticed Clayton bloated a bit. She didn’t trigger his gluten allergy with the toast, did she?

“Clay, do you need your EpiPen?” (Your name) asked Clayton who gave her a reassuring look.

“No, I’m fine. I just hadn’t ate with you in so long.” She smiled at his response.

“Are you sure? I’m a bit worried about you. You’re bloating…”

“I’m fine, truly.” Clayton reassured her. He wouldn’t let her see how anxious he truly was.

This body was decaying too fast… he wouldn’t be able to hold onto it. And he didn’t want to scare her with an animated corpse… he had to think of a different solution now.

.

.

.

Clayton hobbled to the basement before his body fell to the floor with a thunk. The entity cursed as he noticed the rot began in the stomach area. The temporary body was no longer viable anymore.

“You’re so useless even in death.” The entity rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He floated around the basement that held portraits of his human form from back in the day. A stern looking man with dark hair and a hooked nose was painted on each art piece… but the ghost’s favorite was the one where he was beside his wife.

“I have to find a way to keep you here.” He cried in anguish. “I can’t let you slip away again. I don’t want to be all alone…”

He lovingly traces the portrait’s face. He had waited here for over a hundred years for this second chance.

The ghost went over to the coffin in the basement before he opened it to reveal the skeleton inside. A Victorian death mask covered the skeleton’s face. This wasn’t ideal… but his old body wouldn’t smell like decay.

He could stuff the body and wear gloves… he knew his (your name) deserved more, but it’s all he could offer.

“This is for us… it’s all for us.” The ghost reassured himself as he lifted the mask for the first time in over a century.

The charade was up… and he’d have to burn Clayton’s body in the incinerator. He didn’t want Clayton to stink up the place.

.

.

.

There was not a doubt in (your name)’s mind when Clayton came to her that he wasn’t Clayton. She could no longer lie to herself.

Whoever this was, they were far too nice to her. Too chivalrous. Too gentle.

Where her fiancé once treated her with disdain, this man treated her as if she was more precious than gold.

She felt arms wrapped around her around her as the cold mask leaned on her shoulder.

“…what’s your real name?” She felt the man pause.

“W-what do you mean, my love?” He stuttered. His voice was raspy. It no longer even sounded like Clayton.

“You know what I mean.” She pulled away to turn around. Her hands gently cradled the masked face. “You’re far too sweet to me and your voice… it’s not Clayton’s.”

Hands shot up to hold her hands as a sob racked through the body of the man. She frowned in worry. This wasn’t a reaction she thought he’d have.

“I’m sorry… please don’t leave me!” Now this was a man who was desperate… it was refreshing to her.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’m not scared.” She lifted off the mask to show the face of a skeleton. A black liquid oozed from its eye sockets like a grotesque imitation of tears. The sight was something out of a horror movie, but she knew this entity didn’t want to harm her.

“I’m… I’m Frederick Anderson.” Frederick grasped her hands and pressed kisses to the back of them. Yet it felt odd since he only had his teeth exposed…

“Frederick?” She softly asked and Frederick nodded.

“I’m your husband! Well… the one last time.” He told her as he nuzzled her hands. He continued to try to kiss them. “You’re my wife… my beautiful (your name).”

She could not bring herself to be scared of him. Not when he seemed so desperate and lonely.

“Is that why you have so many portraits of me?”

“I painted them myself!” He exclaimed. “When you… died. I was so lost without you. Nothing mattered anymore. The townspeople all said I went mad, and I did. Life had no meaning if you weren’t in it!”

She listened as he began to ramble about their past life.

“I lost purpose. I had worked so hard to have this home made for us. To have the perfect place for us to start a family. I spent too long away from you.” He told her. “It’s all my fault. I should have never left you all alone… can you ever forgive me? I’ve already waited over a hundred years for you… I do not know if I can wait another century.”

“…I forgive you, Frank.” If it were possible, the skeleton became more animated.

“Frank… you haven’t called me Frank since 1853!! Oh happy day! It is so wonderful to hear it on your pretty lips again…”

She was suddenly pulled into a waltz, the skeleton hummed a cheery song from his time. Frederick was indeed romantic…

“You always wanted to dance together… I’ll dance with you all the time now!” Frederick told her while he pulled her body along in an elegant waltz. “I won’t let you down this time, I swear. We’re together again! Just my wife and I!”

They danced for several minutes until she felt the question from the back of her mind.

“…you killed Clay, didn’t you?”

“He made you cry, my love! And anyone who makes you cry doesn’t deserve to live!” Frederick exclaimed, his arms pulled her close. “I’ll scorch this world for you! Whatever you want, I’ll do it! I’ll commit atrocities in your name! Please never leave me again.”

(Your name) was frozen in his arms before she gently hugged him back. She couldn’t imagine being alone for so long… and she had without a doubt he wouldn’t let her leave anyways.

“I won’t leave you Frank. I’ll stay.” She rubbed his back as he sighed in contentment.

“Then I will be giving you my utmost attention. You are my beloved. My everything…”

[vanteguccir]

Hey i have a request if u have time and like ittt!!

So basically matts fucking you and chris is tired of all the noise, so he walks in to matts room casually. Proceeds to pick up ur panties from the floor and stuffs ur mouth. And sum hot idkkkkkkkk i aint a writer

Love ur fics tho girl

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPANTIES IN MY MOUTH * MATT (AND CHRIS) STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Chris had had enough of Y/N's loud moans with his brother and shut her up with her panties... and she's a exhibitionist little shit

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader (and Chris)

WARNINGS　::　SMUT (mdni)

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Oh fuck- Matt-" Y/N gasped, her voice breaking with every breath.

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins. Her thighs - wet with her arousal - quivered uncontrollably, her toes curling against the bed as Matt thrust into her with raw, primal need.

But beneath them, Chris had had enough.

For the past thirty minutes, he had been subjected to the incessant banging of the bed against the wall and Y/N’s loud, unfiltered moans. He tried to block it out, putting a pillow over his head or playing random songs in the top volume on his headphones, but it was no use. The noise was relentless, invading every corner of his room, and his patience had finally snapped.

With a growl of frustration, Chris pushed back his blankets, stormed out of his room, and headed upstairs.

Y/N didn’t hear Chris’s footsteps approaching. Her mind too far gone in the pleasure coursing through her body. She moaned Matt’s name again, her voice loud and breathy, the sound echoing in the room as Matt quickened his pace, his own groans mixing with hers.

The door to Matt’s room suddenly burst open, and without warning, Chris strode in, his face a mask of annoyance. Y/N’s head was still buried in the mattress, her body still trembling as Matt froze mid-thrust, too shocked to react right away.

Chris, however, didn’t seem the least bit phased by the scene before him. He walked into the room far too casually, his eyes sweeping over the pair with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. His tongue slipped between his pink lips, wetting them while taking in the sight of Y/N’s completely naked form, her body bent over the bed, her fingers digging into the dark blue sheets, clutching them like a lifeline, and Matt’s shocked, wide-eyed expression.

"What the fuck, Chris?" Matt sputtered, his voice filled with disbelief as he finally reacted, trying to cover Y/N's boobs with his large hands and her ass with his own body, ignoring the loud whine that echoed from her with his movements. "Get out, man!"

But Chris ignored him. His gaze drifted down to the floor where Y/N’s discarded pink lacy panties lay. Without a word, Chris bent down, scooping it up, and then moved toward the bed. Y/N, still lost in the haze of pleasure, barely registered his presence until she felt slender fingers pressing her jaw with moderate strength, forcing her to open her mouth before something was stuffed against her tongue.

Her eyes widened in shock, muffled sounds of protest escaping her throat as she realized what had happened, her eyes meeting the blue ones that looked right back at hers.

Chris really had shoved her own panties into her mouth, effectively shutting her up. Her face burned with a mix of embarrassment and something darker, something that thrilled her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Matt, still in shock, didn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off.

"Chris, what the hell is wrong with you?" He growled, though there was an underlying tension in his voice, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him as he searched for his brother's eyes.

Chris smirked, his gaze gleaming with mischief as he glanced between the two of them.

"If I’m going to be forced to listen to all this." He said smoothly, his voice low and teasing while his hands motioned from one to another. "The least I could do is shut her up. A guy needs his silent time, right?" He gave Y/N a pointed look, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched her squirm beneath his brother, her muffled whines filling the room with the feeling of Matt's dick moving only a bit inside her walls.

Y/N’s mind was racing, her body responding despite the embarrassment flooding her senses. The feel of her panties getting dump in saliva inside her mouth and the sheer absurdity of the situation had her heart racing in ways she hadn’t expected, causing her to press her face deeper against the mattress, trying to disappear.

Matt, however, was less amused. He shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"You’re such an asshole." He muttered, though he couldn’t deny the tension in the room had only heightened after Chris’s interruption.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased with himself as he straightened up and turned toward the door.

"Just keep it down next time." He said over his shoulder, throwing one last smirk at them before sauntering out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Chris, leaving Matt and Y/N in the heavy silence of the room, Y/N's body reacted almost immediately. Despite the absurdity of what had just happened - or maybe because of it - her hips pushed back instinctively, seeking more of Matt. Her body begged for him to continue, her mind still reeling from the humiliation and thrill of being caught.

Matt's eyes widened at first, surprised by her reaction, but then a dark chuckle escaped his lips as he felt her ass press insistently against him, almost fucking herself on his dick. Her whines, now muffled, were desperate, needy. She wanted more. She needed it.

"Fuck." Matt muttered under his breath, his voice taking on a darker, more commanding tone. "You liked that, didn't you?" He murmured, bending his upper body and pressing his chest firmly against her back, his breath hot against the nape of her neck. "Getting caught like that... having him see you like this. Like the little whore you're for me, yeah?"

Y/N whimpered again, her body responding eagerly as her hips pushed back against him harder, silently begging him to keep going. Her face was still pressed deep into the sheets, her muffled whines escaping through the makeshift gag Chris had left in her mouth. She was trembling, her body aching for more.

Matt’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he laughed again, this time lower. He leaned his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

"You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Letting him see you so exposed and open, and now... you can’t get enough, can you?"

Y/N moaned into the fabric, her eyes rolling up her skull with his talking and the fresh memory of Chris's eyes on her, the sound vibrating against the panties in her mouth. Her body was practically begging for Matt to move, to do something, to give her the release she so desperately needed.

Matt grinned wickedly, the dark amusement still dancing in his eyes as he tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back against him before pushing her forward again, forcing her to fuck herself on his cock.

Her thighs trembled when she felt his tip brushing only a bit against her sweet spot, and she let out another muffled whine, her hips rocking back against him again, needing him right there. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against him, her whimpers of need muffled and helpless, only served to ignite Matt’s desire further.

"Alright." Matt murmured darkly, his tone teasing as his hand slid down, fingers brushing the curve of her ass, squeezing the flesh hard. "You want it? You’ll get it, but you have to work for it."

He pressed his other hand on her small back, forcing her to bent her upper body even more - if that was even possible, searching the control he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, he ground his hips against hers, teasing her, dragging out the moment as she squirmed beneath him, her muffled cries growing more frantic.

"Is this what you want, baby?" He taunted, his voice a low growl as he pressed himself harder against her. "Because I can feel how fucking wet you're." He let out another dark laugh, enjoying the power he had over her in this moment. "And all it took was Chris walking in on us for you to become this needy mess."

Y/N's muffled response was a mix of whimpers and "Matt's", her body trembling as she tried to raise her ass more in the air, searching for the friction her body was begging for.

Matt's grip on her waist tightened even more, his fingers digging into her skin as he finally snapped his hips against hers hard enough to make her thighs shake and her fingers dig into the sheets.

"Alright, baby." He whispered, his tone full of lust and dominance as he positioned himself, ready to turn her into a cock drunk mess. "Let’s see how loud you can be now... even with your mouth so fucking full."

© vanteguccir

[take-it-on-the-run]

The End

Wally Clark x Reader

Two people died on September 23rd, 1983. One laid out on a football field before hundreds of people, and the other left behind on the cold floor of the boy's locker room.

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: Sexual assault, semi-graphic depictions of SA, including: almost direct aftermath, reader is naked in the beginning, mentions of blood, and implied loss of virginity via SA, flashback to SA; death, reader's death is overlooked, ANGST

Characters: Wally Clark, Reader, Dalton (OC)

Read it on AO3!

A/N: The Doors title. Hey ya'll. I cannot believe the love I've been getting on this page, and it's driving me past my writer's block more than anything. With school starting, I can feel the academic anxiety kicking in, but I use my writing as a coping method when I can. This story has very intense topics (as stated in the tags) and is not meant to idealize any topics in any way. This was inspired by @general-fanfiction's Hopes and Fears series (GO READ IT RN), and @whoopsyeahokay's October Sun series (ALSO GO READ IT RN). If this story is well received, or I just feel the urge to, I'll probably turn it into a series (bc this sucks as a one-shot). As always, please heed the warnings, and read only if you're comfortable.

Part 1 | Part 2

Wally Clark Masterlist | School Spirits Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Blood was everywhere.

It slid down your legs and dribbled onto the cold floor of the locker room. Every inch of your skin felt like it was too tight for your bones, and all you wanted to do was reach down your throat and rip out your heart.

Copper flooded your mouth. The tang brushed against the back of your chattering teeth, and all you could think about was how you wanted to crawl to the nearby shower and let it run until one of the coaches found you and dragged you out.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Move. You told yourself. All of your limbs ached. Nothing felt real.

You didn’t want this to be real.

It was supposed to be kind. Gentle. An act out of pure love.

Standing up proved to be hard, and it was like no one was able to hear you screaming out for help. Filtered out by the people flooding the halls, hustling to the big homecoming game going on that night.

The tiled walls provided little help as you brought yourself to a standing position, walking slowly as you felt your feet brush against the pile of your shoes, pants, and underwear on the floor. The touch stopped your heart, breaking a new tier of hate and regret across your body.

He said he loved me.

You turned on the shower, cranking the knob to the hottest setting, knowing that the water wouldn’t get anywhere near warm. Water slid harshly over your body, and you felt it pelt against spots of dried blood on your thighs.

You wished you never come to this stupid football game.

You wished you weren’t as ignorant, or as gullible, or as love-blind as you had been in the past three months.

You wished you never met him.

His face felt bitter and sharp in your head, poking and prodding, as if trying to stick the memory of his hands on you for eternity.

Time passed irregularly, no one came in or out of the locker room, and you were sure that the football game had to have reached its end by all of the cheering and yelling you heard outside.

After using all of the hot water in the gym wing, you slowly walked to the lines of lockers, trying even glimpsing in the direction of your clothes. tried to open every locker until one popped open, revealing a pair of grey sweatpants, a sweatshirt, a muscle tank, blue gym shorts, and a matching varsity jacket with #57 stitched on the arm.

You grabbed the matching sweatsuit, balling it in your arms and silently apologizing to the boy you’d never return the clothing to.

He probably won’t even notice, you told yourself.

You turned the corner around a line of lockers and you could swear you were going crazy. A bare foot poked out from behind the last line of lockers, limply tilted against your pile of clothes, painted a chipped wine red.

You blinked hard, looking down at your own chipped wine-red toes, and you clutched the clothing you stole to your naked body. The cotton was soft compared to the cold tile bracing against your feet, and you brought your eyes to look back to the pile of clothing on the floor.

Bile pooled at the back of your mouth as you hesitantly stepped closer to the foot that hadn’t disappeared. You’re going crazy, you told yourself, but the more and more you stared at the limp, pale body - your limp, pale body - whose features were more of a brutal mass than a face, the less it was going away.

You barely made it past the urinals and into an open stall before you dry-heaved into a toilet.

You were dead.

You couldn’t be.

As you zipped up the stolen hoodie and sweatpants, you tried to remember it all. Kissing under the bleachers before the game, him asking you to come with him while he grabbed something from his gym locker.

Every agonizing second you asked him to stop, to stop pressing you into the lockers because one of the locks was digging into your back; his decrepit hands sliding at your waistline, pushing and prodding past the fabric of your clothes.

Nothing would come up from your stomach.

Could ghosts vomit? You asked yourself, slowly standing to your feet and walking back over to your dead body.

Conversations started to flood the hallway, every muscle in your body coming briefly to attention before you flew out the door and screamed into the rushing crowd of students.

“Hello?” You called out, reaching your arm into the crowd, only to watch it get run through like something out of Star Wars.

Your body became hot, and even though you knew deep down that no one could see you, you pushed your tears back down your choking throat and felt your cheeks heat up with shame.

You walked into the crowd, who was thinning out the further you got from the hallway. Your body tensed for a moment, seeing the lights of police cars and ambulances pulling up to the school. Expecting to see the paramedics rushing toward your body, you waited for them to split the crowd, to start heading toward the school, but they were bolting the other way.

Straight toward the football field.

This school has to be fucking cursed.

One of the players was splayed out on the field, his head gently being lifted as paramedics were tugging his helmet off his head. The football team from whatever school yours was playing against was sitting on the bench, whispering and pointing to another one of their players who was talking to a police officer further down the field.

57.

The number sewn on the jacket hanging among the clothes you stole stood out against the dark blue of the player’s helmet. People gasped and a woman cried out as the paramedic set the helmet aside, revealing the face of the school’s resident golden boy; a dark bruise crawled up his neck, and his mouth guard slid between his lips as his limp head hung unnaturally over his shoulder.

You walked closer, straight through the forming line of police officers, and looked into the field. At the edge of the bleachers, waving his arms around and yelling into a silent group of people, stood Wally Clark.

Wally Clark is dead.

Just like I am.

You took off running, the activity coming easier to you when you were alive.

Alive.

“Wally!” You called out, and the football player snapped his body to your voice, his eyes wide and seeming relieved that someone was talking to him.

You stopped, resting your hands on your hips as he hopped down from the bleachers.

“What’s happening? Why- why is no one talking to me? What did I do?” He asked, skipping the formalities. He came to stand on the field before you, the football gear he was wearing sending a rush of debilitating shame through your body.

You faltered for a moment, his face flashing in your eyes before you rubbed your face back to reality.

“You didn’t do anything, Wally.” You managed to push out, pushing your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Then what is happening? I feel like I’m going crazy, one minute I’m running with the ball, and boom- I’m at the bleachers, trying to get my mother to talk to me and she won’t even look up at me. I know she’s pissed at me about going on the bench, but I mean I got back in the game, and now I’m guessing coach is pissed at me on insisting to get back in and-”

“You’re dead.” You cut off his rambling, forcing yourself to meet his face without looking away after a second, “I mean, I think we’re both dead.”

First, he smiled. Like what you said was some kind of joke. After you said nothing, he started toward the sidewalk, where his mother was now alongside a stretcher being lifted into an ambulance. You could see the tears on her face from where you were, each step you followed Wally, the easier it was to see her sorrow.

Then, as he was following his mother, he suddenly was gone, like he was plucked off the Earth by God himself.

That was until you turned to see him standing on the football field, right where his body was previously lying, tugging at the roots of his hair.

You hovered your foot, leveraging that if you stood on the sidewalk, you would be slingshotted back to the men’s locker room.

You decided to trust your gut and instead talked to Wally.

“I can’t be dead, I mean, that would mean you’re dead, and I literally saw you in the hallway this morning,” Wally said as he paced in a small area before you, “and I know for sure that I saw you because you were hanging around Dalton’s locker, which was weird because everyone on the team thought he had some college girl or something he was hanging out with-”

You didn’t register some of the words he was saying, instead you tried to control your thoughts from ripping you back to your last moments on earth at his name.

“-I mean, do you even know how crazy this sounds?”

You took in a shaky breath, wiping your hands over your face to poorly conceal any emotions that unwillingly spread onto your features, “Yeah, but that’s the thing, Wally. I am dead.”

Saying you were dead for the first time out loud was a lot heavier than you thought it would be.

You’re pretty sure that if the insanity of Wally being killed hadn’t overridden your brain, you would be somewhere huddled up and screaming for some greater power to give you eternal rest.

“What? That’s not possible, I mean, the people you were here with would’ve noticed you were gone. Dalton would’ve noticed you were gone.”

You didn’t want to give his name as much power as you did, but your body tightened up hearing it. You didn’t correct him, instead opting to stare at the dark woods on the far end of the field, your eyes burning once more.

“Y/N,” you were a little surprised that he knew your name, and even more when he stood in front of you with the most gentle expression you’d ever seen, “what happened after school? How did you die?”

[hanniebaeee]

Call Me Yours

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: established relationship, soft fluffy smut

Summary: Just you and your boyfriend needing each other on a quiet night.

a/n: I think I may be experiencing a writer's block. Please forgive me if this is a mess! Also I love my frat boy Jinnie from Call It What You Want, so this is the same couple from that fic. You can read it here:

Call It What You Want

It was a quiet night, and your bedroom was bathed in the golden glow of the fairy lights hanging above the headboard. You were lying on your bed, propped up on pillows, wearing one of Hyunjin’s shirts - a little too big for you, slipping down your shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on your phone, occasionally glancing up to peek at your boyfriend, who was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, sketchbook in his lap. The charcoal pencil in his hand moved in slow, deliberate strokes - he was drawing you, as he often did, his eyes flicking between the paper and your form with a soft smile that made your heart ache.

“You’re staring,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

Your voice was teasing, but there was a flush creeping up your neck under his gaze.

“Can’t help it,” Hyunjin replied, his voice a low hum, like he was confessing a sin. 

He bit his lower lip, and looked back into his sketchbook, hair falling into his eyes. And it made him look like a damn dream.

“It’s literally your fault for being so beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes, but the compliment settled in your chest, warm and heavy.

“Flatterer," you quipped. 

“Truth-teller,” he countered, setting the sketchbook aside.

The pencil rolled onto the bed, forgotten, as he crawled toward you, slowly. He stopped when he was hovering over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other reaching to trace the exposed curve of your shoulder where his shirt had slipped. His fingers were warm and featherlight, and you shivered despite the heat in the room.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, your hands finding his chest, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his t-shirt.

He was so close that you could feel his breath, sweet from the peach tea you two had shared earlier.

“I love you,” he said, simple and raw, the words slipping out smoothly, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against yours - not quite a kiss but a promise for more. 

And that little smirk on his face was all it took for you to close the distance, kissing him softly. His lips moved with a gentleness that stoked the heat building between you. The kiss deepened, unhurried, his tongue brushing yours, coaxing a quiet whimper from your throat.

Hyunjin shifted, guiding you to lie back fully, his body following yours until he was half-draped over you. The weight of him is comforting, grounding, but the way his hands roamed, sliding under the shirt to trace your ribs, grazing the sensitive skin just below your bra - set your nerves on fire. His touch was soft, like he was mapping every inch of you. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured, lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your throat. “Like you were made for me.”

He kissed the hollow of your collarbone, lingering there, his breath warm against your skin. Your hands slipped under his t-shirt, fingers splaying across the smooth expanse of his back, feeling the subtle flex of muscle as he moves.

“You’re so sappy,” you teased, but your voice was shaky, betraying how much he was unraveling you.

“Sappy?” He pulled back just enough to look at you, one eyebrow raised, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m romantic, babe. There’s a difference.”

Then he kissed you again, deeper this time, swallowing your laughter as his hands slid higher, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra, making you arch into him. He took the cue, his kisses trailing lower, following the open V of the shirt. He nudged the fabric aside with his nose, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses on your breasts - and it was like he was worshipping you, like he was painting you with every touch. 

“Jinnie,” you breathed, tugging gently at his hair, and he groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. He looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, lips pink and swollen from kissing, and the sight alone was enough to make your stomach flip.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice husky but laced with that same tenderness, like he’d give you the moon if you asked. His hand rested on your hip, fingers dipping just under the waistband of your shorts, pausing there, warm and patient.

“You,” you said simply, because it was the truth, and it was enough. His smile was radiant, soft and sharp all at once, and he kissed you like he was sealing a vow, his body pressing closer until there’s no space left between you.

His hands slid down, cupping your ass to pull you closer, and you whimpered as you felt the hard outline of him through his sweatpants. 

You were too gone by that point, lifting your hips just enough for him to shove the shirt up, and pull your shorts and panties down.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, fumbling with his own pants, and sliding into you in a single push, stretching you completely. You both moaned with pleasure, but then, neither of you moved.

Because for once, this wasn't about sex. It really wasn't. It was about the comfort of being together - you felt him pulsing deep inside you, like he was home. And he pulled you closer, chest to chest, your legs tangled, his lips brushing your forehead.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispered, sighing as you nuzzled into his neck, mumbling a “Love you too.”

You inhaled his scent as your walls clenched lazily around him. No orgasm-chasing, no urgency. You both were just there, so warm and intimate as he filled you so perfectly - like you were made for each other.

You could feel the slow, unconscious rocking of his hips, your clit brushing his pelvis, sending tiny jolts of pleasure through you, and you held on tight, just feeling him and it was the most safest you've ever felt. 

Hyunjin’s hands slid under your shirt again, squeezing your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples, and you gasped, your walls fluttering around him.

“Sensitive,” you whined. 

“Good,” he slurred, kissing you again, all wet and sloppy. “Wanna stay inside you forever. Just like this.”

You were both drifting, so cosy in each other’s arms. This moment was too perfect, and you smiled as he whispered a sleepy, “Love you.” 

“Love you too, baby,” you said, fingers carding through his short hair. 

And you fell asleep like that, bodies joined, hearts entwined, wrapped in each other, the world outside forgotten.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

[southernimpala]

i love you, stupid

sam winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ sam gets a bit too drunk after you get hurt and you're left to take care of him

notice ↬ she has finally posted!! a little angst if you squint, fluffy as always, sam being drunk, descriptions of injury nothing too crazy, writers block is a bitch (and so is finals week(but dean smut coming soon :)), no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 3.2k

the motel bathroom smells medicinal like antiseptic, burning your nose and causing tears to flood your waterline. 

well, you aren’t sure if it’s the rubbing alcohol or the stinging from your head wound that’s making you cry. probably both.

the hunt was a success; a few stubborn vampires taking teenage girls as their victims in a nowhere town in oaklahoma, nothing you and the boys couldn’t handle. except, when a vampire manages to get their hands on you, that’s a cause for disaster. 

“can you be any more rough?” you groan. you’re sitting on top of the sink, gripping hard around the porcelain under you as dean closes the nasty gash decorating your forehead, “you stitch yourself up like this?”

 he sticks his tongue out in concentration, not bothering to entertain your words laced with pain, “almost done.” 

“i can’t believe the thing managed to throw me down a flight of stairs,” you chuckle mirthlessly, the ache stemming from your back coursing through the rest of your body as you recall the incident, “couldn’t even do its job right and just bite me.” 

dean laughs. sam, who is leaning against the bathroom door frame, doesn’t.

instead, he scoffs, “did you want it to?” 

you furrow your eyebrows, “no, sam, i was kidding—” you hiss as dean threads the last needle through, “—fuck, that stings.” 

he still doesn’t appear amused. his eyes fall to his shoes, arms crossed over his broad chest as he avoids your confused gaze, looking like a kid whose just been scolded.

you know sam doesn’t take people close to him getting hurt lightly, especially you, for a reason you can’t pinpoint. but, nothing tragic happened. you’d just been shoved and knocked out; hit your head on the last step before tumbling all the way down. compared to what else the three of you have been put through, that seems miniscule. 

except, sam isn’t taking it like some tiny paper cut or bruise. and truthfully, you were trying to make yourself feel better about the situation. losing consciousness for an hour and waking up with a much too deep tear in your forehead was enough to spook even you. but, you were fine. alive and breathing. 

“well,” dean starts, noticing the awkward tension suffocating the room, “you probably still have a concussion, so i’d take it easy tonight, see how you feel in the morning.” 

“great,” you huff sarcastically, letting him help you off the counter, “i was planning on getting plastered.” 

sam scoffs again, his eyes, weighted by something, glaring at your figure as you move to sit on one of the motel beds, “you aren’t funny.” 

“alright, what’s your problem?” you ask, now slightly annoyed at the coldness bleeding from his tone. 

“nothing,” he brushes off, “just wish you’d take this more seriously.”

“more seriously?” you repeat, surprised, and now, completely frustrated, “what do you want me to do? sulk about a scratch on my forehead?” 

“it isn’t a scratch,” he retorts, voice picking up.

“well, it certainly isn’t fatal!” you argue louder. your head starts to spin. 

“could’ve been!” 

“could not!” spots dot your vision. 

suddenly, dean moves to step in between the two of you just before you can attempt to stand up and escalate the situation. 

“alright, alright, you two, will you both calm down,” dean intervenes, like a parent taking control of his two children, his hands stopped in front of both of your chests, “she’s fine, sammy, take it easy on her, alright?” 

sam bites the inside of his cheek, looking away and nodding angrily. it takes all but a minute of silence for him to break it, “i’m going out,” he announces, words thick with emotion. 

your expression softens slightly as you hear the slight shake in his voice and see the bob in his throat as he swallows whatever is lodged there. your mouth opens and closes like a fly trap, trying to muster something to say to diffuse whatever the hell that was before he walks out. 

you jump as the door slams shut, and suddenly, all the blood—red hot with frustration and confusion—rushes back to your wound as you begin to wobble on weak legs. dean grabs your arm to stabilize you— “woah, you’re okay,”—helping you sit back on the bed as you take your head in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision blurs and spins.

you muster a laugh, “guess it’s worse off than we thought.” 

“well, gettin’ yourself all worked up will do that,” dean says, his eyebrows now creased in newfound concern at your worsening state. your eyes start to become heavy. dean notices. 

he helps you lay back against the pillows, “try and get some rest.” 

you nestle your face into the floral fabric, trying to ignore the musty smell and the ache in your chest as you take a deep breath, flashes of sam’s face, so melted in emotion and anger, burn your eyelids, “is he alright, dean?” 

“he’s fine and so are you,” dean hushes quickly, bringing the covers up over your shoulder, “i’ll go talk to him; you don’t worry ‘bout a thing but gettin’ better.” 

 at his voice’s soft assuredness, you manage to sink yourself into your drowsiness, sleep overtaking your aching body. 

when you awake, you’re immediately drawn to the dull throbbing in your temple, traveling down your arms—bruises starting to form along your skin—all the way to the bottom of your back. you groan, bringing a hand to shield your sensitive eyes from the gross, yellow light emitting from the bedside lamp, bulb flickering shadows onto the dark walls. 

the ac is loud, too loud for the migraine you’re experiencing. and the disorientation that comes after a concussion-induced nap consumes you. 

as you try to adjust your eyes and ears, you begin to sit up, looking around the room. and that’s when you realize you’re alone. 

you sigh. at least with the room to yourself you could go back to sleep easier, no snoring or loud breathing to annoy you as you heal. but as you move to turn the lamp off, you notice a note scribbled in dean’s handwriting and another room key.  

found sam. he’s at the bar. got me and him the next room over to give you space. 

if you’re reading this, go back to bed. 

you want to smile at the thoughtfulness, but ‘found sam. he’s at the bar’ causes your insides to twist. 

your eyes glance at the old digital clock beside the note, the blinking red numbers reading 4:41. you assume dean managed to drag his ass back to the new room, both probably passed out asleep at this point. you’d slept for four hours. a lot could happen in four hours. 

just make sure he’s back home, you think to yourself as you make your weak legs get out of bed. another blood rush forces you to grip the nightstand, steadying yourself as much as possible as you blink away more spots. just make sure he’s alright. 

 you leave the room, chilly june wind swirling around you under the bright moonlight, which is peeking through tree silhouettes from the nearby woods. 

the dive bar across the parking lot catches your eye, but you force yourself into the next room. unlocking the door with the spare key next to the note, your heart sinks as you creak it open and see dean, sprawled on the far right bed, passed out and snoring in the dark room, with sam nowhere to be found. 

you curse to yourself, shutting the door gently so as not to wake him. you look over at the bar again and your stomach knots. god knows what sort of state he’s in; drunk out of his mind, maybe in the middle of a fistfight with a biker gang. it all seems so much more dean winchester, but the look in sam’s eye before he left told you he wasn’t in the right state of mind, wasn’t sam. 

the loud classic rock blasting through the jukebox in the dingy bar was enough to make your head spin again. you blink rapidly to keep your vision stable as you search each face for the hazel eyes you catch yourself staring into, for the soft hair you only wish you could run your fingers through, and the smile that amplifies your pulse. 

it takes a while to find him in the crowded, small room, but sudden shouting erupting from a pool table in the far corner perks your ears.

“you think you can hustle me?” a gruff voice shouts.  

“nooooo, i knowww i can hustle youuuu,” another slurs. you recognize that voice. 

pool cues clatter on the floor. loud boots stomp. a fist connects to a face. 

your heart drops as sam’s body stumbles back into the billiard table. without hesitation, you’re pushing through the bulky crowd with newfound adrenaline. before the large, tatted man can get another hit on sam, you stand between them, shielding his body with yours, broken and bruised. 

“stop!” you yell, digging your hand into sam’s chest to keep him against the table, “he’s leaving okay, he’s leaving.” 

you can’t look at sam’s face, but you feel his eyes, hooded with impairment, burning holes into your figure.

“look at this,” the man laughs grossly, “this one’s got a bitch saving his ass.” 

sam wrestles against your hold, “shut up!” 

“what was that boy?” the man takes another burley step toward you, but you hold your ground.

“get away from us,” you demand. the man’s face twists as your vision blurs again, “we’re leaving.” 

you grab sam’s shoulders firmly, forcing him out as he struggles to break free, “let go of me!” 

ignoring his feeble attempts at rushing back to the man—his body shaking with rage against you—you manage to make it out of the bar and into the brisk night air again. 

“sam, can you—” you grunt as you heave his arm higher around yours, struggling under the deadweight, “—can you help me out a little here?” 

his breath reeks of whiskey as it fans across your face, “that jackasssss—should’ve shown h-him who i—” he hiccups, “—ammm!” 

“god, how much did you drink?” you think aloud, the motel room getting closer. 

he giggles drunkenly, “not enough!” 

you roll your eyes, propping him up on the dirty brick as you unlock the door, sam instantly bursting inside. he stumbles into a dusty lamp, laughing to himself as he trips about the room. he eventually lands on the mattress, sprawling out and staring at the ceiling. 

you take a wobbly seat in the chair across the beds, rubbing a stressed hand across your forehead, careful not to graze over the fresh stitches in your skin. 

“this bed is comfortable!” he shouts, forcing you to shush him harshly. 

the small bit of relief you feel now that sam’s in your sights, alive and not getting his ass handed to him in some back alley behind the bar, fades quickly as he starts rambling, giggling, and  acting like dean after a rough bender. 

“sam, what the hell is wrong with you?” you ask exasperatedly. 

“what do you mean?” he asks, clueless, “i feel great!” 

your tongue pokes your cheek, “why did dean leave you in that bar?” 

sam smiles strangely, “he didn’t leaveeee, i made him.” 

“yeah, and how did you do that?” you ask, unbelieving. you know dean would never leave his brother in this state regardless of how hard sam tries to shoo him off. 

“well, i wasn’t like this,” he states, as if you should’ve known that already. he shrugs, “i just told him i’d be back in an hour… like three hours ago,” a giggle bursts past his whisky lips, “what an idiot!” 

“this isn’t like you,” you huff, standing up to help him sit upright; just in case he starts vomiting. 

 “why can’t it be like me?” he hiccups, “oh, so—dean’s the only one to have all the fun?” 

“no, i—” suddenly, waking dean and letting him handle whatever the hell is happening with his brother seems like your favorite way of dealing with this. “i just wanna know what’s wrong.” 

 under the dim light illuminating half of his face, reflecting off the green and yellow in his iris, you finally notice how tired he looks. and not so much physically. emotionally, it seems like he went through a trainwreck—baggy under eyes, flushed cheeks, waterline rimmed red. 

“you,” he whines, mind still in a brandy induced fog. 

you bite your lip, “you can hate me for dragging you out of there sam, but, i still need to know what’s—” 

“yeah, you!” his voice picks up again. 

you wonder if it’s your head trauma or the confusion causing your head to spin

“sam, i don’t—” 

“i couldn’t even stitch you up myself,” he mumbles, words dipped in delirium, “hands were shake—” he hiccups again, “—my hands were shaking and i knew i couldn’t so dean had to.” 

 you’re silent as he rambles and runs a stressed hand through his tousled brown hair, soft despite the sweat accumulating by his temple, “i wanted to do it but i couldn’t stop remembering you falling down those—” another hiccup, “—down those stairs.” 

without warning, sadness crashes over his face like a tidal wave, the giddy drunken smile morphing into a depressed frown, brows furrowed, eyes now heavy and teary-eyed, “i thought you were done; all the blood from your head and how many steps you fell down and then you didn’t wake up—” he cuts himself off with a choked sob, “and i was too late.” 

your ribs gripped your heart in a clenched fist, “what do you mean, ‘too late’, sam?” 

another pained gasp slips from his lips, “i saw it, saw you about to fall, saw that vamp put its hands on you and i froze.” 

in an instant, your mind flashes to right before you were shoved, and then you remember. sam’s broad figure looming down the hallway, watching with wide eyes, frozen in fear. realistically, there was no way he could make it to you in time regardless, but you felt the weight of his guilt. and then it all makes sense. 

“sam—” 

“don’t,” he interrupts, sniffling, and you can tell the rush of emotion forced him to sober up a bit, “it was my fault.” 

you purse your lips, swallowing down whatever multitude of protests are dying to be let out. you know that’s the last thing he needs, and the uneasy look on his face as he wobbles in his seat confirms that for you. 

he almost topples forward, reminiscent of how you were after dean had patched you up, but you catch his shoulders, easing him back down on the floral sheets and onto his side. 

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering as he fights sleep.

“nothing to be sorry for, sammy,” you say, trying to keep your composure.

he looks so soft and innocent, the way his eyelashes fan against his blushed cheek sending your brain scrambling again. you run a warm hand down his forearm, easing him into some kind of relaxation. 

sam tries to fight it, swallowing dryly as he looks at you through hooded lids, “i won’t freeze next time,” he exhales. 

as he drifts off to sleep under your steady hand, you pray your heart isn’t thumping loud enough for him to hear through your chest, because you certainly can.

your fingers move to trace the fresh, bumpy, and definitely uneven stitches along your forehead, and can’t help the bittersweet grin that forms on your face as his words settle.

the buzz of the dingy diner the next morning is not the wakeup call neither you or sam need, heads in a tizzy from the debilitating hangover and your little trip downstairs. you’re both squished in the red booth beside each other, twirling your fork in your eggs—a sickening yellow color that makes your guts twist—and sam, gulping down water like a starved man. 

not to mention, you were both running on four hours of sleep. 

dean looks between the two of you, “jesus, what the hell happened to you two last night?” 

you groan, sliding your head into your hands, “too much.” 

“way too much,” sam adds, voice muffled by the plastic cup. 

“i knew i shouldn’t have left you,” dean says, taking a hefty forkful of pancakes, “either of you because this—”  he points to the two of you with his utensil, “—this is what happens.”

the look on dean’s face when he walked into your room this morning, dumbfounded at the sight before him: you and sam sleeping beside each other, not touching but certainly close enough, might be ingrained in your memory forever. 

“i took care of it,” you assure. 

“only did so with a concussion,” he argues, stabbing his breakfast again, “what the hell happened?” 

you try to hide the pink arising on your cheeks, sinking into the ripped up booth, attempting to catch sam’s expression out of the corner of your eye. you can tell he’s trying to hide the fact that he remembers everything, the words he spoke bordering on some kind of confession still lingering on his tongue. you ache to hear them, to know why he lost himself last night because you were hurt. 

certainly, it wasn’t just because you were friends. and the rose color dusting over his nose confirms that for you. 

“nothing,” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter, “just got him to bed and passed out again.” 

“yeah,” dean mumbles, unconvinced, “yeah, alright.” 

he gets a head start to the car as you and sam pay the bill at the front, anxiety crawling up your stomach and settling in your chest as you rack your brain on anything to say to him. 

“so,” you start, walking out of the diner, “don’t remember a thing, either?”

sam stops, grabbing your elbow softly to pull you out of dean’s view, shielding yourselves on the side of the building. you press up against the brick, watching as his tongue pokes at his cheek in thought. 

“you have no idea how sorry i am about last night,” he says quickly, face flushed, “you were hurt and you had to take care of me and listen to me spew all this self loathing crap, and—” 

“sam,” you stop him, bringing a hand to his solid chest, feeling the thump thump of his heart as it races under your palm, “was it all true?” 

his eyebrows furrow before falling softly in realization and remembrance. 

“about you freezing and caring and worrying,” you add, voice a note higher than a whisper, “was it true?” 

he looks away, then slowly begins to nod. 

all the blood in your body rushes to your feet, almost giving you a feeling of weightlessness, and before you can back down, you bring your lips up softly to his, pressing deep into his mouth as his part in shock. 

then, he melts, a large hand falling behind your head, fingers threaded through your hair. 

you feel him smile against your own, prompting you to bring a palm up to his jaw, the kiss deepening—

a loud honk blares through the chirping birds and rustling trees. you both jump apart, lips swollen and eyes bulged. 

dean pulls the car up, watching you through the impala windows as he honks again, beckoning you both. 

you swallow down the lump in your throat as everything dean winchester is going to say about what he’s seen rushes through your mind. 

yeah, you’re both done for.

but, it’s so worth it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[hearts4mica]

Jason/Arkham Knight x Batsis who was his best friend before everything got wrong. Batsis never forget Bruce and even tried to go search for Jason but she never got time/was responsible for baby Damian.

She's considering joining Jason's side after finding out about him, but Tim and Dick stops her. (Jason is a Yandere, Batfam is Yandere, Batsis is a tsundere)

Someone i used to know

Yan Jason x Batsis Reader! (Batfam included) masterlist

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Your best friend in the whole world was Jason. You never went anywhere without him.

And being the only kids in the manor (dick was a teen so he didn’t to you) you two bonded easily.

Well one day he never came home you hoped he was still there somewhere alive- that was until Bruce brought back his body.

A few years later after visiting his grave something felt off to you. Later that day the cameras showed someone stealing his coffin?! Who would do that!

Now you didn’t even have a place to visit your brother.

Later on Damian was introduced to the family, he somehow reminded you of Jason a misunderstood child that just needed guidance. And as the only girl that was 100% of the time at the Manor (except for school) you decided to be the one who would care for him.

Taking care of a baby was too much work but you wanted Damian to have a not so rough childhood unlike you so now in your free time you could only study or take care of Damian which made your grades go lower and lower and lower. Then you began to fail your classes.

And as stresful as that was people started to say another vigilante began to act up through the city of Gotham so everything at that time was awful.

But then

“Jason?”

Jason came back? How?

Your bestfriend alive once again and he was mad.

Mad at Bruce, at the joker, at you for not searching for him.

To try and fix things with him you decided to leave with him. The two of you again just like when you were younger. Jason agreed his eyes were different, he acted different but you knew deep down he was still Jason.

As your packing your stuff Tim stops you trying to reason with you.

“You can’t leave us! You can’t! Why? We need you.”

Dick tried to reason with you too

“Baby bird don’t be unreasonable who will take care of Damian? You are the closest person to him. Would you abandon him really? He’s only 6!”

And Jason didn’t help at all.

“Why didn’t you look for me in all of this years? You just moved on! Are you seriously leaving me again? You have to choose. Me or them? You’ll pick me right? Right?! I’m your bestfriend afterall!”

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I’m really sorry if this is not good enough! My writers block is really bad rn and i don’t have inspo to write anything but i didn’t wanna leave the requests unanswered :(