#Hell Girl v Chaos go

[dragontamer05]

Who would win;

Near god like world / universe destroying being, or 1 girl with the power to send anyone to hell if asked

[babocka]

Tag drop: Dynamics/verses/etc.

[morning-star-joy]

honey don't feed it, it will come back (Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Bodyguard!Joel x Sex Worker F!Reader

Summary: You run a brothel in the Boston QZ, devoting yourself to taking care of your girls. When the safety of one is threatened, you hire a bodyguard in the form of the surly Joel Miller to protect them. Little did you know that you were going to become his new favorite vice, and him your favorite addiction.

Warnings: MDNI Explicit Smut (oral f receiving, v fingering, Joel jacks off while going down on Reader, dirty talk, bit of a sir kink, bit of a brat tamer dynamic). Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart). Alcohol/drug use. Sex work (Joel listens to Reader). Age gap (20 years). Mentions of physical assault (towards minor characters, never from Joel. Not stated to be sexual assault but it can be inferred as such, so please take care of yourselves).

Wordcount: 9.6k (how the fuck)

joel miller masterlist

The world was fucked to all hell and back, and so what did men do in those circumstances?

“Oh fuck,” your customer was grunting as he fucked into you from behind, your hands on the headboard as it rocked against the wall to keep yourself up, breathy moans expertly leaving your lips to spur them on, even if you hadn’t felt an inkling of desire in years.

Yeah.

They fucked.

Fight or flight were often referred to in the first years following the Outbreak, a default of survival instinct that most everybody resorted to in order to survive.

But fucking was the much less talked about, incredibly prevalent third option.

It became clear in the Quarantine Zones that there was a need to be filled here, a way to satisfy that urge in a way that wouldn’t cause a barely held-together society inside high walls to erupt into chaos.

From this need, brothels made an appearance. While FEDRA had nothing to do with the establishments officially, they turned a very convenient blind eye to the street corners where women trying to make some kind of a living in the QZ took up their stations, tempting any lonely man who may wander by into a night of needed release.

It was a dangerous profession, in its own way. Contraceptives were long expired twenty years after the society collapsed, and even if a client pulled out at the best time and you were keeping track of your cycle, there was always the risk of being put out of work for around 9 months if you were unlucky.

And then came the obsession.

Clients could become far too eager far too quickly, addicted to the touch and feeling of a certain girl, mistaking lust for affection and lurking around those street corners before the night even came or, worse, outside the brothel doors.

You’d experienced it first-hand and through other girls, but it wasn’t until one of the younger ones came to you with a black eye and bruised jaw that you had had enough.

“Who did it?” you said in a low tone, breathing deeply in and out through your nose as you tried to control yourself, reigning yourself back in from the need to grab the gun you kept tucked in the top drawer of your rickety old nightstand and find who the fuck had laid their hands on one of your girls in such a way.

After years of being in the business, you had gone from only taking clients to keeping a watchful eye over the other women who made the same living you did. Your glory days were mostly behind you, but you still had your reputation, even after the incident that left you with a jagged scar that stretched vertically across the right side of your face, from above your eyebrow, down across your eye to just below your cheekbone.

Those clients you did still have preferred to fuck you with you facing away from them now, but you weren’t complaining. Not seeing their ugly faces as they used you to cum helped you dissociate, focus your thoughts on how well you were going to eat the next few days because of a few minutes of sacrifice.

The young woman whose lip was trembling as you held her hands gently in yours now was hardly past her early twenties, a sweet young thing who you had taken under your wing when she confessed needing a way to get some extra ration cards for her little brother who had gotten sick recently.

You had snuck Isabel some of your own ration cards with each of her payments, not caring that you had a bit less to eat each night, especially when she had come to you a couple weeks later with a bright smile and the news that her brother’s health had improved.

Now that smile that could light up the whole goddamn QZ was nowhere to be seen, an abject horror darkening her gaze, making her angelic face gaunt as you reached up to gently hold it, tilting it so you could assess the extent of the damage.

Her eyes, a deep honeyed brown that had drawn in the most clients your brothel had seen in years, were avoiding yours as you searched for her gaze, and you gently directed her face back towards you, voice softer as you implored her, “Isabel. Please, talk to me, babygirl.”

A choked sob was the first sound to leave her mouth then at the sound of your genuine affection. The world may be fucked, but protecting these girls was your purpose. And the thought of not being enough to protect them, for one of them to come to you like this…

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you whispered as her petite form collapsed against yours, holding her close as you smoothed a hand over the tangles in her hair, gently combing them out with your fingers as your other hand rubbed at her back. “It’ll be okay, love. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”

Even as you assured her, a fear was creating pressure in the back of your mind, causing the first of many sleepless nights as you tried to figure out how to make sure this could never happen again.

You sat at your little makeshift desk in your tiny room on the top floor of the brothel, a cheap cigarette you had just gotten from a couple smugglers perched between your fingers as you slowly exhaled the smoke, staring down at your incoherent scribbled notes.

With a groan, you pushed yourself away from the desk, standing to cross over to the small window on the wall, gazing out in paranoia to make sure there were no dark shadows lingering nearby, waiting to get a hold of one of your girls if they didn’t want it.

Glancing back down at the lit cigarette, you pondered your few options.

FEDRA was not a viable source for protection. Yes, they turned a blind eye on your activities, but they would never risk their image by offering guards for your girls. Besides, you didn’t trust anybody in one of those uniforms within an inch of your life.

Fireflies weren’t a fucking option either. Those jackasses were so far up the proverbial ass of justice that they couldn’t see the actual struggles of the real people around them, subjecting them to be collateral in whatever useless statement they were making lately.

The cigarette was raised halfway to your lip when you paused, staring down at it as you suddenly had a small epiphany.

Who did you know that had not an ounce of a moral code, but a strong work ethic and determination to get the job done for a good deal that promised a stack of ration cards?

A smirk curled onto your lips then as you brought the cigarette back to them, placing it in your mouth as you took a long drag, exhaling it towards the window and watching it fog up the glass as you realized exactly who you were heading to.

“We don’t do protection,” your smuggling contact was saying, her voice as gruff and no-nonsense as always, and you sighed, meeting her sharp green eyes straight on as you shifted to cross your legs.

“Don’t bullshit me, Tess,” you said flatly back, your voice not harsh, but definitely firm, calling her out on her bluff even as you saw her ever-present guard dog shift a ways behind her at your tone. “You’ll do anything for a good trade. And I have that.”

“I don’t wanna fuck your girls,” Tess dismissed, waving her hand as if to brush the thought away, and you rolled your eyes, even as you couldn’t help a smirk, glancing at your associate with a small hint of mirth that matched her own.

“I’m not offering that,” you replied honestly, slowly drumming your fingers at the small table you were both seated at in one of the back alleys where these deals tended to go down. Public enough to avoid a shootout, but private enough to avoid FEDRA breathing down your backs. “My girls get paid for their work. So would you.”

Tess raised an eyebrow then, leaning in just a fraction, and you knew that you had captured just a fraction of her attention.

Good. You could work with that.

“What are we talking?” she asked in a low tone, voice still disinterested, gaze still closed off, but you knew that would change when you laid out the conditions of the deal.

When you did—offering a heft of ration cards (that they didn’t need to know was almost your entire cut of the brothel’s proceeds) for an able body to keep watch at your brothel during active business hours—Tess leaned back again, eyes flickering over your face as she processed the information.

“You know I’m good for it, Tess,” you implored, allowing a bit of emotion to creep into your tone now as you meet her gaze, hoping she would hear what you were asking for, woman to woman. “And these girls…they need it.”

She frowned then, sympathy flashing over her face as she glanced over yours, hearing what went unsaid.

Tess began to turn her head slightly over her shoulder, though she didn’t bother sparing a glance back as she called, “Joel.”

That was the first time you think you’d heard the name of her silent, watchful companion.

You knew that they were a package deal, but whenever you met with Tess, he lingered in the background, making sure you didn’t lay a hand on her.

Good, you thought to yourself, glancing over at him as he pushed himself off the wall and strolled over just at the unspoken order she gave for him to approach. If he’s who she has in mind, hopefully he does the same for the girls.

It was also the first time you really got a look at the man who Tess finally introduced you, explaining to the both of you how this was going to work at the same moment.

With those thick arms that could be around your neck as fast as you could blink, hardened dark eyes that were already measuring you up and calculating at least six ways to take you out before you could even open your mouth to say hello, you knew that just the sight of him in your brothel would strike fear into the depraved hearts of meeker, cowardly men.

He was older, too. Maybe had twenty years on you, and if somebody had lived that long in the apocalypse, they had to know how to get their hands fucking dirty if they needed to.

“I’ll take him,” you said back to Tess after appraising the man who would be your brothel’s bodyguard, your attention only pulled back to the hunk of muscles when you heard him scoff at your words. “There a problem?”

“I’m not a piece of meat,” he grunted, expression flat as he stared at you, and you arched an eyebrow, unamused by his comment that came right after you and Tess had agreed to the terms of the deal.

“Hate to break it to you, but a bodyguard is nothing but that,” you replied as you gracefully uncrossed your legs, rising to your feet as Tess collected their first payment from you off the table, pushing it into her front pocket as she rose from her own seat as well. “Muscle that can drop a man at a moment’s notice.”

You watched as Joel’s strong jaw ticked, your other eyebrow rising with the first as you stepped around the table, getting closer to the man than you probably should, watching as his tense shoulders bunched up even more around his ears when you approached. 

“And now, you’re my muscle, Mr. Miller,” you said in a perfectly conversational tone, a practiced smile pulling onto your lips as Joel glanced down at them briefly before looking back into your eyes, his gaze narrowing as you added, “Pleasure to be doing business with you.”

Spinning on your heel, you strolled away from the smugglers towards the exit to the alley, but not without saying back over your shoulder before you got too far, “First shift’s an hour after curfew. Don’t be late.”

There was the sound of low grumbling behind you, followed by the smooth low tones of Tess’ voice, and you didn’t know why you felt the urge to laugh at that moment.

You didn’t know why, because you hadn’t laughed in years.

But you brushed that feeling aside, heading back towards your establishment to ready your girls for the change that would be coming in their worlds tonight, hoping that it would give them the peace of mind you all so desperately needed.

Whether you would be able to relax all depended on if Joel Miller could actually do his job.

He could.

One of the very first nights Joel had taken up station in the main hallway in the brothel that led off to private rooms, he had proven his worth, and then some.

You had been down the staircase in an instant when you heard the loud crash, heart racing in your chest, breath quickened from panic as you rounded down to see what had caused the loud sound.

Some thumps and bumps were common in an establishment like yours, but that sounded very much like a body not only hitting the ground, but being thrown down onto it.

What you saw then was an image that etched itself deep into your brain for the rest of your days.

Joel, your brand new, stoic bodyguard who hardly gave so much as a grunt to you or any of the girls he was hired to protect, had a half-naked man pressed to the old floorboards, knee digging right into his back to pin him down, a large hand keeping a tight grip on his neck to stop him from moving.

But what got your attention even more than the struggling client who Joel was snarling at as he roughly kept them down, was the girl who was standing behind him, arms wrapped around herself and subconsciously shifting to stay behind the bodyguard, eyes wide and relieved at the sight of him catching the out of hand customer.

You walked towards the scene that had drawn spectators in the form of clients and workers alike, peeking their heads out into the hallway to watch as you slowly knelt down in front of where the bastard was pinned so roughly to the ground that you weren’t sure he could even breathe.

Good.

You glanced up at Joel then, meeting his hard gaze with one of your own, and you gestured with a jerk of your chin towards the staircase leading down and out of your establishment that he could throw them out.

After rising to your feet, you paused next to Joel, watching from the corner of your eye as he grabbed the man roughly, yanking them to their feet and halting in his task only when you briefly laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Let him know not to come back,” you muttered under your breath, sending a sidelong glance full of unspoken things towards Joel, a tiny smirk curling onto your lips as the whimper of fear from the sick bastard and your bodyguard’s short nod let you know you’d been heard.

You walked straight towards your girl who had nearly been treated in a way you would not tolerate towards any of your women, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her against you, letting her sink into your warmth as you addressed the rest of the brothel that everything was fine, to resume their activities while Joel shoved the guy down the stairs as they started to beg for mercy.

Luckily, there weren’t many similar incidents after that one, letting you know the investment into a well-abled bodyguard for your girls had been more than worth it.

Because more than the concrete evidence of their safety, it was the palpable shift in energy at the brothel that reassured you that you had made the right choice not only in having a bodyguard, but in who you hired.

Joel never really warmed up to anybody, but all the girls had certainly grown fond of him. There were more than a few crushes on the emotionally unavailable older man who stood like a statue in the halls, ranging from innocent love to lustful fantasies.

There were a handful of times one of your girls had offered their services to him, some even trying to get him into a room free of charge, but Joel turned down every one—interestingly enough, it was never without kindness. Each time a proposition was offered, the detached bodyguard would give a slight shake of his head, mumbling a “no thank you, ma’am” in that deep Southern drawl that soon made almost every girl in that building buckle at the knees.

The fondness your girls had for Joel Miller became ingrained in the way the brothel functioned, and you knew that you couldn’t get rid of him even if you wanted to, even if that meant continuing to share a large portion of your personal livelihood with him.

And maybe you were crazy, but you thought that maybe Joel had a bit of warmth in that tiny, shriveled up heart for your girls, too. Sometimes he’d eye a client up and down before giving the girl with them a respectful nod and a polite murmur of their name as a greeting, and you didn’t know why the familiarity of the stoic man warmed your own barbed wire heart, but it did.

Maybe it was because after all the shit they’d gone through to survive long enough to reach this point, they deserved to experience an ounce of genuine kindness from a man, without having to think about what they had to offer him.

Still, Joel irritated you. Any hint of kindness he had for your girls was never shown towards you, but you didn’t let it get to you. You were his employer, and the only times you ever really interacted with each other were the few short seconds it took him to head up the stairs to your office, collect his payment with you and leave.

Besides, you weren’t exactly the most gentle with him either.

You’d taken up a habit of poking fun at your bodyguard, a little teasing here and there about things like his face getting stuck if he never unfurrowed his brow, a comment that only made him scowl further, the sight pulling forward again that urge from deep within your bones to laugh.

But you never laughed, even as you smirked up at him before turning on your heel and going on about your work keeping the place running smoothly.

That work mainly involved management and finances, but when you began to realize you soon wouldn’t be able to keep supporting yourself with keeping Joel on as a bodyguard, you knew you’d have to start doing something a little extra.

Time to go back to your roots.

For all his time working at the brothel, Joel had never seen you take a client.

In fact, he could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had seen you in the hallways, only to check on a few of the girls from time to time.

But most of the time you were holed up in that small office upstairs, the one he entered for a minute or two at a time, long enough for you to gather his payment and give it to him so he could be out of your hair—or, more accurately, to get you out of his.

Because fuck, you were irritating. You knew exactly how to get on his nerves, and Joel suspected you actually enjoyed doing so, for whatever goddamned reason.

Still, the job paid well. He was living with a bit more comfort in the QZ than he ever had before with those cushy extra ration cards.

And besides, he was actually, maybe a little bit attached to the girls who worked these streets. They were kind, just making a living in the best way they could, and needed somebody to protect them.

Maybe there was also a part of Joel that needed somebody to protect.

He had to admit though, for all his aggravation towards your mere existence, Joel did respect you. You were the person who kept this place up and running, the one who looked after every need of each woman, the lady who had cared for them enough to search for a protector to keep them safe.

Joel had honestly assumed that you didn’t do sex work at all, just judging from how you were never in one of those rooms.

But tonight, you were walking up the staircase from the base floor instead of down from your office, drawing Joel’s attention and subsequent confusion when he saw what you were wearing.

Gone were the baggy jeans you usually wore around the brothel, replaced by thigh-highs that enveloped soft skin he had never seen before. There were just hints of lace at the top of the hosiery from where the tight black dress hugging your curves rode up with each step you took.

It had to have been one of the least scantily clad outfits he’d seen down these halls, but something about the sight of you wearing it caused a lump to form in Joel’s throat, an itch curling inside his veins that needed to be scratched when you turned your head back, offering a sly smile different from any you had sent him towards somebody behind you.

When you ascended to the top of the stairs, Joel saw the man following you, his back stiffening for more than one reason.

The first reason was that he knew this man. Not personally, but he had seen them around—on wanted posters, specifically. They were a higher up in the Fireflies, one who had their eyes on every covert deal around the city, a puppet master pulling the strings.

But it was clear now that you were pulling his, a coy batting of your cunning eyes tugging him after you down the hallway, your body turned slightly towards him in a way that accentuated every curve of your body in its side profile, illuminated in the lowlights of the hall.

When you passed by Joel, eyes meeting his as they shifted into something darker—not lustful, but with clear intent—he knew the other reason he had suddenly snapped to attention.

This man was your customer.

That look you had given Joel, it was an unspoken order to keep you safe in case anything went south with this considerably more…“exclusive” customer, for lack of a better term.

You didn’t spare another glance back as you moved to a door at the end of the hall, one Joel didn’t think he had ever seen another girl enter, slipping into the room as the man followed behind you, and the door quietly clicked shut.

Joel stared at the spot where you had just been in the hallway, feet frozen to the ground until he slowly stepped forward, moving down to lean against the wall next to the room you had entered, following your silent order to stay close and keep an eye out for trouble.

All his time working in a building full of the sounds and smell of sex at every moment, Joel had been unbothered. The moans, the grunts, the cries of “oh fuck” and “I’m coming!” that would echo through the halls, the overpowering scents of sweat and cum when a door next to him would open and a satisfied client would walk out—he couldn’t give less of a fuck. It neither bothered him, nor turned him on to any degree.

But at the very first soft, breathy moan of yours that drifted through the thin wall his back was pressed to, Joel’s breath was catching in his throat, entire body stiffening at the alluring sound.

A few seconds later, there was another moan, longer than the first, and Joel’s head tilted back, resting against the wall as his jaw clenched to the point where it was almost painful.

He didn’t care, he told himself.

Joel had never cared before, he didn’t care now.

But it had never been you before.

You, the stalwart image of the establishment, all business and no pleasure, putting every other person’s needs before your own.

So at the thought of you giving into pleasure now, satisfying your own needs as the sounds of slow, rhythmic squeaking of a bedframe carried towards him through the door, your whimpering echoing the steady echo of skin slapping against skin—

“Fuck,” Joel whispered under his breath, eyes fluttering shut at a particularly loud moan of yours that reached his ears that had tuned in through the walls, and he snapped his eyes back open, straightening back up and realizing with a quiet groan from the movement how painfully hard he had grown in his jeans at the sounds of you being fucked.

He reminded himself then that this was your job. There was no guarantee you derived any real pleasure from it—to think that you did was a delusional male fantasy, and made him no better than the rest.

But his dick wasn’t listening to logic, only growing harder in his pants with the more lewd sounds that you made, and Joel sucked in a deep breath, rubbing a large palm over his face and shaking his head to himself.

You were no different from the others.

Just another girl to protect.

Joel didn’t want you.

“Oh, god, yes!” you were gasping in between keening moans now, and Joel bit down hard on his lower lip, feeling the chapped skin break and bleed a bit as his hand twitched at his side, the urge to do something about the erection straining against his pants so incredibly strong.

He could do it. None of the other girls were close to finishing with their clients. Joel could pull his cock from his pants right now and fuck into his own hand as he listened to you having sex, get himself off from the sounds you were making, imagining he was thrusting into you instead of his palm as you—

“Yes,” you whimpered, the sounds of skin slapping against skin rapid now, the bedframe inside your room slamming against the wall as you repeated yourself louder and louder, higher and higher, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Then you were crying out at the same time your client did, and Joel grunted, hips bucking up into his palm at the same moment he realized his hand had drifted there, subconsciously seeking relief from the ache of burning desire before he snapped his hand away.

“Fuck,” he huffed, shaking his head sharply and cursing himself at how he had nearly jacked himself off at the sound of you having sex without even realizing what he was doing. “Get it the fuck together.”

But his erection hardly eased up even as the minutes passed, and Joel had to fold his hands together, trying to casually hold them in front of the obvious bulge constrained by his jeans when your door opened.

The client walked out first, and Joel stared straight ahead at the wall opposite him, jaw clenching painfully once more as the man walked down the hallway, glancing back to send you a wave as you leaned against the doorframe, bending forward out of it to wiggle your fingers back towards him in goodbye.

Joel’s eyes snapped from how relaxed the gait of the man now was before looking over at you, sucking in a sharp breath at the tattered silk robe you were wearing, seeing the dip of your collarbone down to the soft curves of your cleavage, nearly catching a glimpse of the tempting pillows of your tits from the way you were leaning forward before he forced his gaze away.

You were watching him now—he could feel the familiar intensity of your gaze on him, and Joel resisted the urge to swallow thickly, struggling against the lump in his throat as you pushed yourself off the doorframe.

He expected you to head back up towards your office, preparing himself to keep his gaze off you when you walked past him in that temptation of thin fabric, when you surprised him by speaking.

“Want a smoke?”

Joel froze, his head tilting towards the sound of your voice subconsciously before your words even dawned on him.

When they did, he glanced towards you from the corner of his eye, seeing you were watching him with a thumb pointing back over your shoulder towards the room behind you.

The room you had just fucked a client in.

Oh fuck.

Joel cleared his throat, brows furrowed deeply as he looked back at you, and he half-expected you to make a comment about it like usual, but you were simply watching him with an impassive look, not a hint of emotion or motive he could try to decipher.

Before he knew what he was doing, Joel nodded, feet automatically moving after yours when you walked into the room.

“You can close it,” you said over your shoulder as you walked towards a nightstand next to the bed where—

Joel spun around, trying to control how rapidly he was breathing as he grabbed the door handle, pulling it shut behind him before slowly turning back to face the room again.

He had never actually been in one of them before, but he still should have expected the smell to be so much stronger in one—especially right after it had been occupied.

Still, the scent of sex pulled his attention right back to the bed you stood next to as you perched a cigarette between your lips—one he thinks Tess got you, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind—and Joel’s eyes lingered on dark spots on the mattress, forgetting how to breathe for a moment before your voice brought him back.

“Mr. Miller?”

His head snapped forward, eyes meeting yours to see you looking at him in a question he didn’t know that you were asking.

“Huh?” he mumbled so eloquently, wincing internally as your lips twitched into a small smirk around the cigarette in your mouth before you pulled it out, blowing it into the heady air of the room, nicotine joining the smells of sex and making the space tighter, hotter, before you paced towards a window on one wall.

“I asked if you wanted one,” you said slowly, and Joel just then noticed how scratchy your voice was—from the cigarette, the moans you were making not that long before, or maybe both.

“Uh—no,” Joel shook his head, watching with bated breath as your smirk towards him grew. “No thank you.”

His heart skipped a beat in his chest as you beckoned with the cigarette held delicately between your fingers for him to join you at the window. 

Joel did, almost automatically, cursing himself internally at his blunt eagerness to be beside you while you lifted the window to let some fresh air in, and he turned, resting his back against the open window pane, arms crossing over his chest as he watched you instead of observing the room any longer.

Not all that fresh, considering the perpetual staleness of the QZ air, but it did cut down on how overwhelming the aroma of sex currently was in that room.

If somebody was going to break the tense silence that had fallen between the two of you, Joel had expected it to be you, so he was surprised when the quiet words fell from his lips, “Didn’t know you took clients.”

You huffed out a laugh then, the stream of cigarette smoke leaving your plump lips in puffs with the action.

“The Mistress has to earn her keep somehow,” you muttered, pulling in another drag of nicotine to blow back out the open window, and Joel’s gaze snapped back towards you.

“The Mistress?” he repeated, eyes flickering over your face as he recognized that name in an instant.

Being a man in the Boston QZ, it was impossible not to hear about The Mistress. An elusive sex worker who was very selective about her clientele, but even still, the stories about her stretched far, the name representing the countless fantasies of every horny man who dreamed of a chance to get their cock wet with her.

His recognition must have been noticeable in the tone of his voice, because you lazily rolled your head back to look up at him, smirk growing fully across your lips, swollen from whatever you had been up to, and Joel nearly swore under his breath as he felt his cock stirring in his jeans again.

“You act like you’ve heard of me,” you murmured, tongue darting out to wet your lips before you placed the cigarette between them again, and Joel’s brain short-circuited for a moment before he could find the words to reply to you.

“I just—” Joel cut off, brows furrowed as he shook his head, as if trying to jumpstart his mind, get it to string coherent thoughts together again but Jesus fuck why were you looking at him like that, with dark hooded eyes he’d never seen from you before. “I mean, I’ve heard about her, but I didn’t think—”

“Why not?” you interrupted him before he could finish. The cigarette was back between your fingers, gesturing with it up towards the scar that stretched down one side of your face. “Because of this?”

Joel frowned then because, to his own surprise, he was offended that you would think he’d care about such a thing. That he’d judge your attractiveness off something as inconsequential as a scar, especially in such a time where such marks on your skin were proof of hard-earned survival.

Attractiveness. 

No, no, oh, fuck.

“Just didn’t know it was you,” Joel muttered gruffly, shrugging in a way that he knew must have looked incredibly stupid as he turned his face away from you, only to see the mess of shabby sheets on the bed, and those same dark stains on the fabric.

“Oh, so you have heard of me,” you were nearly goddamn purring the words now, in the same moment his mind was recalling those sweet, sweet moans you were making, the ones that had left your lips and resulted in the cum stains he was now staring at. “What have you heard?”

“They say you have the ti—” Joel cuts himself off again, feeling blood rushing towards his cheeks and somewhere lower, somewhere he should not be feeling any heat as he realized what he was about to say without thinking.

That you have the tightest, hottest cunt you could get in the whole QZ.

“They say I…?” you trailed off as you quietly repeated his words, and Joel’s attention flashed back to you to see you drifting closer to him, one arm crossed over your chest to prop up your elbow as you smoked your cigarette.

The way your arm pressed to yourself pushed your cleavage together to make an alluring dip, lifting your tits so they were almost spilling out of the open collar of the silk robe. Although the fabric was faded and tattered from the years it had survived, it may as well have been the richest texture in the world with the way it caressed your soft skin, taunting Joel as he struggled to look away.

When you shifted just an inch closer, one of the sleeves of the robe tumbled down your shoulder, and Joel sucked in an audible breath as more of your body was revealed, tempting him with how bare you were under that flimsy fabric.

He tried to look back up towards your eyes then, he really did, but the sleeve slipping down to hook around your elbow nearly revealed half of your chest to him. The only thing keeping him from seeing one of your tits completely was the way your forearm was pressed against your nipple.

Was it a peak right now? Were you as aroused as he was? Did you need him like he needed you?

Joel finally pulled his eyes up to yours, and when he saw the smug, knowing look in the heat of them, his desire flared into a fever pitch.

“They say you make sex an art,” his voice rumbled out from deep within his chest, and Joel hardly recognized it with the way his every word was coated in a thick need. “That your body feels like heaven, and you taste even better.”

You laughed at that, head tilting back with the action, and Joel was as distracted at the gentle, husky cadence that left your soft lips—how soft exactly, he wondered—as he was focused on the curve of your exposed neck as it led his eyes down your collarbone to the valley of your breasts.

There was a thin layer of sweat there, he just realized, and he wanted to dip his tongue between the soft pillows of flesh, tasting and tracing you, when your words pulled him out of his fantasizing that was quickly spiraling out of control the longer he was in this sex-tainted room with you.

“Those men don’t know a single fucking thing about how I taste,” you muttered, not bitterly, but simply matter-of-fact as you gazed out the window towards the dark lit streets of the QZ, taking another long drag of the cigarette.

Joel’s brow lifted, glancing over your side profile, noticing the way the deep red lipstick you had been wearing was almost completely faded, smeared a little at the corner of your mouth and down your chin, and coupled with the confession you had just made, he struggled with a sudden surge of an emotion he couldn’t name—or didn't want to, as it would surely become dangerous if he dared to entertain it.

“Seriously?” Joel found himself saying, and you turned back to him, your own eyebrows arching at the odd tone of his voice—almost appalled, but not towards you. “None of them?”

Your lips pulled back then, showing teeth in a grin that was nearly predatory, and Joel’s pulse raced as you answered with your own question, “You really think any man still alive wants to pay to go down on a woman?”

“I would,” Joel said in a heartbeat, and you blinked, surprise flashing through your eyes, and Joel hated the way his stomach flipped at the knowledge of catching you off-guard, as you were usually the one doing so to him.

“You’d pay for sex,” you repeated slowly, and although it was a question, you said it in a flat tone, disbelieving as you glanced up and down his body. “You. Mr. ‘I hate everybody and wish they were all fucking dead’ Miller?”

What surprised him the most out of everything tonight was the way you just made him laugh.

The sound was pulled from him so easily, tugged from his lungs towards you, and he sucked in a breath, as if trying to pull the sound back in as a dark look twinkled in your eyes from where they had fixed on the front of his jeans.

“Maybe you would pay for it, Mr. Miller,” you murmured, and Joel stiffened, his mind filling with a variety of curses in every language he still knew as you surely noticed his erection that still hadn’t fucking gone away.

Your eyes flashed back up to his, long eyelashes fluttering as you leaned forward, and Joel struggled to breathe as the forearm still covering the nipple of your almost completely revealed breast grazed against his chest.

“How would you prefer to take me, sir?” you asked breathily, and Joel’s chest began to rise and fall rapidly, brushing with your own nearly exposed chest with every fast breath he took as he tried to reign himself in, even as you started fucking seducing him. “Are you a fan of foreplay? Would you take your time and go slow with me?”

Your head tilts oh so slightly, hair tumbling down in a way that begged Joel to wrap it around his fist, as you continued to mercilessly tease, “No, I don’t think you’re one for taking it slow. Are you, Mr. Miller?”

Fuck, if you kept calling him that, he was going to lose his goddamn mind and take you right against that window sill if you would let him. He’d pay you all the fucking food rations in the world for a taste, just a taste of how sweet you’d drip for him when you came.

Because if Joel was fucking you, you were going to come.

“You like it hard and fast,” you whispered, your arm finally dropping from your chest, and Joel swallowed down a strangled sound as he finally saw half of your chest completely, your nipple hardened in the air before you pressed it against him and fuck, oh Jesus fuck, “I bet you’re rough too. Big man like you, you like to be in control. Probably gets off on taming brats, hm?”

Goddammit if you didn’t shut up he was about to show you just how well he could tame you, shutting up that pretty mouth by making you come again, again, and again, until all you knew to do was cry out for him every time he wracked your body with pleasure.

“But you’re not a missionary man,” you shook your head as it tilted the other way, bringing your face to hover inches away from his neck, and Joel shivered, actually fucking shivered when he felt your breath caress his skin as you teased, “You like a cowgirl, don’t you, Joel?”

That was the first time his name fell from your lips.

And at the sound of it, Joel lost any ounce of self-control.

His hands were on you in an instant, enveloping your waist in his large palms as he pulled you flush against him at the same moment he turned to push you against the wall.

You gasped, the dwindling cigarette falling from your fingers, and Joel lifted a foot to stomp it out, using his knee to nudge your legs apart with the motion. When his hips nudged against yours, erection pressing against the spot between your open thighs, he moaned at the feeling of your heat against the impossibly tight fabric.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the robe you wore was completely open now, and your exposed cunt was pressed right up against his clothed erection, but his entire mind was focused on the way you also moaned at the same time he did.

“You keep running your mouth like that, I’ll show you how fucking good I can tame a brat,” he growled into your ear, one of his hands easily lifting your hip, dragging your folds across the bulge in his jeans, and he sighed as he felt wetness seep against the fabric. “Fuck, you this wet for me already, baby? Just from talking about how I’d fuck you?”

“I-I–”

Suddenly, no words were falling from your lips other than incoherent stuttering, and Joel smirked as he ducked his face against your neck, licking a path along the curve of it, groaning in need and irritation at the salt of sweat from your previous sex that still clung to it.

“Did you come for him?” Joel growled the question against your jaw, now directing your hips to grind against him in a way that put pressure to your clit, his eyes fluttering shut at the soft moan that left your lips—it sounded different than the ones he heard you make before, quieter, a bit huskier as opposed to so high-pitched—before he nipped at the skin just below your chin. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and Joel loosened his grip on your waist just a bit, wanting to see if you still chased that friction he had been providing against your clit.

When you did, grinding yourself against his clothed erection, Joel smirked against your jaw before asking his next question, “When’s the last time a man made you come, sweetheart?”

A shuddering breath fell from your lips to fan across his face, and Joel pulled back, looking down at how blown-wide your pupils were, his thumb brushing a strand of hair from your face as you muttered, “I—long. Too long.”

Joel wanted to smile at how you were already struggling to form full sentences before he had even started with you, but the anger he felt at you going so long without feeling an ounce of pleasure from being with a man made his jaw tick as he frowned deeply instead.

“Do you wanna come tonight, darlin’?” Joel murmured, his calloused thumb finding your bottom lip to gently pull it out, caressing the wet inner part of your lip while he searched your gaze. “I need you to answer me, sweetheart. I’m not doing anything unless you want me to.”

“Yes, Joel,” your voice nearly broke with the husky whisper, head bobbing in an eager nod, but Joel still waited to hear you say it clearly before he began. “I want you. Want you to make me come, please.”

A shuddering breath left Joel then, and he returned your nod, brushing his thumb across your lip again before pulling it back and leaning down to replace the digit with his own lips.

You were both moaning from the first moment your lips touched, kissing in a way that was much like how you always acted around each other—a battle for dominance, adding gasoline to the fire, but with an underlying respect that neither of you could shake even if you wanted to try.

“Fuck,” Joel mumbled when you allowed him access to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch of it with a quiet moan that you echoed with your own. “Taste so good already, sweetheart.”

Every time he tried to pull away, you brought him back in with your lips chasing his, trapping him in another hot kiss, passion he didn’t think he could ever feel again building between you until he needed to taste more.

Joel finally tore himself away from your mouth fully, hands finding the opening of your robe to make sure it was pushed open completely, giving him access to every inch of your soft skin as he pressed kisses down your neck towards the perfect, perky tits that had been taunting him since you leaned out into the hallway.

His large palms cupped them, fingers stroking the soft flesh as he pressed them around his face, groaning into your skin at the feeling of being surrounded by them before turning his face to lap a path up the curve of one with his tongue until he reached that goddamn nipple that had been pure torture to nearly catch a glimpse of during your entire conversation.

Joel flicked his tongue over it, hips nearly bucking up as you gasped at the sensation, back arching to press further against his tongue when he flattened it against the stiffened peak. When he sucked it into his hot mouth, your fingers found his hair, tangling in the strands as you pushed his face further against you, and he moaned through a mouth full of your breast, teeth grazing against the sensitive peak before he pulled back to quickly do the same to the other.

Despite your teasing, he would take his time with you eventually. But tonight he was desperate, a drowning man gasping for air—but no, even that wasn’t accurate.

You were not the air Joel needed, but rather the unfathomable depths that he was drowning in.

He dropped to his knees between your spread legs, grunting quietly at the pain that ricocheted through his old bones at the action, but he couldn’t care less as he found himself facing your hot, dripping cunt.

Joel leaned forward, letting his breath fan across your sensitive folds as he lifted two fingers to run across your wet entrance, dragging the digits up to where you clit was already swollen with the need to be touched, to be pleased by him, and he smiled to himself at the sigh you exhaled above him from the sensation of his touch.

His fingers slid back to your entrance, dipping the rough pads of his fingertips into you just enough to collect more of your desire, spreading it along the lengths of his thick fingers as he swiped them up to your clit and began to rub in slow, tight circles.

You gasped quietly, hips rolling into his gentle ministrations, and Joel smiled against your skin when he ducked his face forward to press soft kisses along your inner thigh and up.

“Gonna take care of you, darlin’, don’t you worry,” Joel murmured against the mound of trimmed hair above where his fingers were slowly working at you, his lips moving down to replace them as he added breathlessly, “Gonna make you feel so good.”

Your hips bucked against his face when his tongue found your clit, a louder, breathless moan tearing from your throat at the heady sensation of his hot, wet mouth sucking around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Joel,” you gasped, nails scraping against his scalp as you grabbed his hair tighter, and he groaned around your clit at the feeling, pulling a delicious whine that sounded so much more real, more feral, more needy than the perfect, practiced ones you had made through the wall. “I—oh, fuck, that’s so good…”

He hummed around your clit before flattening his tongue against it, alternating motions until he found the rhythm that made you grind yourself against his face, and his palms found your hips to pull you up against him further, encouraging you to ride his tongue until you found your high.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured in between the moments when he’d suckle your clit, teeth gently grazing it as he resisted the urge to palm himself at the steady stream of moans and muffled curses that were echoing above him. “You can do it, come on. Soak my face, wanna taste your sweet cum.”

When you did just as he told you, Joel thought he really did see the gates of heaven, a sight he was convinced would never grace him after the lifetime of hell he had lived and caused.

He lapped up every gush of wetness that dripped from your folds in your release, dipping his tongue inside your entrance to drink you up, his thumb replacing his tongue on your clit, rubbing gently to prolong the waves of your pleasure.

Once the gyrations of your hips against his lapping tongue slowed, Joel pulled back from your cunt, your release glistening on his mouth and down his chin as he gazed up at your slack-jawed expression.

Your head tilted down, gaze meeting his as a lazy smile curled onto your lips, and Joel tried to ignore the way his heart lurched in his chest at the sight combined with the feeling of your grip loosening on his hair, fingers combing gently through the strands.

“Good?” Joel mumbled, turning his face to press a soft kiss on your inner thigh, and your head dipped down in a nod, humming in satisfaction as Joel smirked against your skin. “Good.”

His mouth opened, teeth gently nipping at your soft flesh, pulling an endearing squeak of surprise from you as he rasped, “Not done with you yet, though, sweetheart.”

When his tongue found its way back to your clit, his fingers went back to your entrance. This time, when he dipped one fingertip in, he didn’t stop, sinking into your tight, wet heat until the first knuckle, smiling against your swollen bundle of nerves as you rolled your hips into him at the sensation of his digit slowly filling you.

He gave a few slow pumps of his finger when he had sunk it in completely before pulling it out, chuckling around where he had sucked your clit back into his mouth at your whine at the loss of his finger before he added it back in with another.

“Fuck, can you feel you squeezing my fingers, darlin’,” Joel grunted against your cunt, lapping desperate licks against your clit, eating you out with increased fervor as his fingers pumped you faster at every mewling moan that left your lips, encouraged by the rolling of your hips to curl his fingers until he found the spot that nearly made your knees buckle.

His other arm wrapped around your waist, giving you support to stand while keeping you pressed to his face, not allowing you a moment of peace as his tongue worked mercilessly at you until you were coming around his fingers this time.

“Oh, fuck,” Joel was whimpering against your cunt this time as he continued to fingerfuck you through your high, sucking at your clit and drawing out every aftershock, his arm around your waist the only thing keeping you up now as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Joel,” you whispered hoarsely, fingers tugging at his hair again, and he pulled back to look up at you, his fingers stilling inside your cunt, but not sliding out of you just yet.

“What is it, darlin’?” he rasped, breath trembling as you stroked his lips with your thumb, collecting your own release combined with his saliva on it before raising it to your mouth to suck on, pulling a moan from Joel’s throat at the sight.

“Want you to touch yourself, sir,” you murmured, and Joel’s eyes widened, his fingers finally slipping out of your heat, reaching down to fumble with the button of his jeans at your permission he didn’t even know he was desperate for. “Make yourself cum just from the taste of me.”

“Jesus—” Joel couldn’t even finish whatever he was going to groan out as his hand wrapped around his cock once he pulled it out of its fabric constraints, eyes rolling back into his head at the relief of finally, finally doing something about the erection that had plagued him since he guarded you outside the room while you worked.

“Mouth on my pussy, Joel,” you ordered, and he was diving back into your folds without a second thought, sloppily thrusting his tongue inside your wet heat as his hand pumped his cock, your release still coating his fingers spreading across his length as he felt himself already rapidly approaching climax. “That’s it. You like the taste? You wanna come because I taste so good?”

Joel was nodding against your pussy, groaning into your folds as he lost any rhythm towards making you feel good now, but you didn’t seem to care, your hand in his hair still keeping him pressed to your cunt as you encouraged him this time around, “Do it then, Joel. I want to watch you cum for me.”

If you said anything else at that point, Joel couldn’t hear it through the blood rushing through his head as he came harder than he had in years.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had felt an orgasm so intense, his vision darkening at the edges as he sucked mindlessly at your wet folds, hips bucking up into his fist as his cum shot out to paint the wall behind you before leaking out steadily over his hand.

You loosened your grip on his hair, allowing him to pull back with a gasp, sucking in air he needed to not black out as Joel’s blurry vision focused back in on your face above him.

There was a small smile on your face, satisfied in more ways than one, and Joel couldn’t help but match it with his own half-smirk as he focused on catching his breath before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet.

“Mm,” Joel moaned quietly as his lips met yours in a lazy kiss, one he wasn’t sure who initiated as he mumbled against your mouth, “Heavenly.”

You laughed then, and he felt himself brighten at the sound, though he tried to ignore it as you gently pushed him away from you.

“Come on,” you sighed, straying away from the wall towards the door on shaky legs while you tied your robe back up, making yourself decent enough as he tucked his dick away and zipped up his jeans. “I’ll get you your payment for today.”

There was a brief moment where you made sure nobody was lingering in the hallway before beckoning him out, and you both made your way towards the staircase towards your office while Joel tried to ignore the foreign thrill at the chance of being caught with you after what you had done together.

When you passed his payment to him, he counted out a generous portion before holding it right back out, earning a scoff from you at the offer.

“You’re not paying me for making me come, Mr. Miller,” you said with a sly smirk, and Joel tried to ignore how oddly disappointing it felt for you to resort to calling him that after tonight. “That wasn’t work.”

Joel slowly arched his brow, but nodded at your insistence, tucking his payment in his back pocket before rumbling out a quiet question of, “One-time thing?”

It wasn’t an offer, nor was he insisting that you did or didn’t do it again.

In fact, he was secretly hoping it would happen again, and Joel felt the treacherous anticipation for even more of you when your exhilarated gaze met his.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @cupofjoel @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @sinsofsummers

[gojos-thot-patrol]

M E A N D T H E D E V I L W A L K I N G S I D E B Y S I D E

Sukuna isn't the type of person to say "I love you." He's not the type of person to love. He was a demonic warlord, known for his cruelty and lack of empathy. What part of that screams "lover boy" to you?

baby, you're a haunted house

Society will tell you that playing with ouija boards is a bad idea. this fic begs to differ. a demonic Sukuna smut

close calls

Love is scary, Isn't it Reader? Sukuna thinks it is. but at least he's facing his fears for you. a soft Sukuna smut.

sacrilegious

Feeling holy? Maybe a little less than holy? Do you want to have your guts rearranged by a God in his own temple? yea, me too. a holy Sukuna smut.

unholy

Did you like the idea of the previous fic, but think you'd relate to it better if the reader was of the male variety? well, do I have news for you! A smutty Sukuna drabble

seven minuets in heaven

Maybe you're feeling something a bit more modern reader. Something more relatable? Like a college au where you lose your virginity to a frat boy named Ryomen. A modern day Smut

better off as lovers

Dating is hard and falling in love is harder. Ryomens love isn't up for debate, but if he's truly ready to give up his playboy life style for you is a little more questionable. Part two of Seven Minuets in Heaven. A smutty hurt/comfort fic

new mistakes

I would say being left at the altar was the worst thing that could have ever happened to you, but I think the revenge sex with Ryomen makes it all worth it, don't you agree Reader? A modern day revenge smut.

bad miracle

Gojo has always been an idiot, but he's really done it this time. He's kidnapped the wrong girl, and now, leader of The Syndicate Ryomen Sukuna has to figure out what to do with you.

A Mafia Au smut

heir to the throne

Sukuna never wanted to be a father. Why why hell would he want that? A sticky, stinky, ball of chaos that feels the need to destroy everything. Why would he want that? It's no surprise you hid your pregnancy from him for so long.

A Dadkuna fluffy fic

urban legends

You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? A TrueFrom!Sukuna smut.

change of plans

Funny how something as small as a grain of rice can cause such a shift so massive in so many lives. Deny all he wants, you're having a baby and now Ryomen has to comes to terms with being a young dad. Part of the Frat Boy AU Some introspective fluff

tiger hybrid! headcanons

We've all wondered what he would be like as a tiger hybrid, right? Right? some Smutty Headcanons

breaking up headcanons

While you would be entirely within your rights to leave Sukuna, what on earth made you think it would be that easy? some more smutty headcanons

feral nights

Ryomen always got what he wanted, it was a simple rule of life. And ever since he caught your scent, you were all that he wanted- your previous bond mark be damned. And you must have wanted him too. Why else would your window be open in the middle of your heat? An omegaverse Smut

[buggybambi]

exes with benefits | lip gallagher

inspired by: olivia rodrigo's "bad idea, right?" (2023)

wc: 1.83k | nav post mae note: okay i hate the ending of this so if anyone else hates it please lmk and i will adjust it because ugh i changed it like three times and it still feels... meh? idk i feel like i need to make a part two (if people even like this??)

rating: 18+ post, minors dni. :-) content warnings: fem!reader / afab!reader, unwrapped p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), kinda public sex??, exes hooking up, plot with little plot, unsettled ending lmfao, fem!fingering, oral (f recieving) bc lets be honest lip is a munch, brief mention of reader wearing panties/a bra

House parties were never really your "scene".

The chaos and uncertaintiy of whose house you're even in, the smell of colognes and perfumes and sweat, the alcohol being mixed together in plastic cups that are discarded on the floor later that smell like Disneyland if it wasn't cleaned in a month-. Every part of a house party sounds awful. So, why are you standing in one now?

Well, your friend Lauren would be the reason why. Work had been a bitch for her recently - her words not yours - and you had gone through a breakup recently, prompting her to suggest a girl's night out. How you ended up at a house party from the crappy bar she dragged you to in downtown Chicago was beyond you.

"C'mon! This is totally gonna distract you from Lippy and all the drama he brought. To being single!" Lauren drunkingly cheers as she holds up her plastic cup of (you're sure) three different kinds of alcohol. You hold up your glass of water barely, running a hand over your face. "Yeah, can we not announce that?" You ask.

Two seconds later, she's giggling with a guy leading her up the stairs. You sigh, turning to go get some fresh air when there he stands. Lip Gallagher. Your freshly appointed ex-boyfriend. Or Lippy, as Lauren refers to him.

You and Lip had dated for two years, but you'd known him since you were kids. Your relationship was perfect, until one night. When he called you clingy, a bitch - this was of course after not talking to you for almost a whole week. You told him that night you were done with him. That he could call when he figured himself out.

He didn't call. It'd been a month.

It doesn't feel real that time has passed that quickly, because part of you is still stuck in his bedroom. Right where he left you. A lesson well learned.

"Hi." He says, as he stares at you. You stare right back.

"Hi." You manage to get out, clearing your throat. "I have to go-"

"Wait. Can we talk, please?" He asks, walking over to you, a hand on your arm as he whispers to you. The world stops for a pause before you nod. "Fine." You agree.

You let him lead you upstairs into an empty room, taking it in. It looks to be a guest bedroom, few decorations other then picture frames with the "welcome to our home" and flower vases on the nightstands.

"Welcome to my hell" would be a better fit.

"Why are we avoiding each other like this? You've been my best friend since I was fucking ten years old, I don't want us to lose each other like this." He says as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking note of the floral bedspread. "We already lost each other, Lip. A long time ago." You point out.

"Don't do this shit, don't be all cryptic." He rolls his eyes as you stand right back up, almost giving yourself whiplash. But that's disregarded when every memory floods back to you.

"Oh my God! What the hell do you want from me, Lip, huh? You want me to just forget every single thing you said to me? Or maybe you want me to just forget how you avoided me like the damn plague for a week before you finally did call me just to blow up at me and tell me you didn't want to be with me anymore. You can't go from telling me I was your favorite person to telling me you think I'm a bitch. And I can’t even look at my favorite person anymore, so what the fuck do you expect me to do?" You burst out, turning away from him, staring out the window.

It's silent for what feels like an eternity before you feel his arms wrap around your waist from behind. "I don't want to lose you. I- I haven't been me since you left. Please." He isn't sure what he's even begging for from you, but his voice is soft enough where you feel yourself wanting to give in.

This was a bad idea, right? After all, he was your ex. But you're both mature adults, can't two people reconnect? You'd only see him as a friend this time, it wasn't like he had to be something more.

You sigh as you push his arms off, walking for the door, waiting for a moment before locking it. You turn back around to face him, walking over to him and barely grazing his lips with your own to tease him before he kisses you. His hands find themselves on your waist like how he used to put them there when he kissed you like this.

Used. It still doesn't feel real to use parts of your relationship in the past tense. How you used to kiss him, how he used to hold you, how he used to be yours.

You kick your shoes off, and he does the same.

He pushes you back onto the bed, deepening the kiss. His tongue slides into your mouth easily, one hand on your back, the other sliding up your thigh. He knows your body so well, it's almost a science to him. He knows how your body reacts to certain touches. Certain places to kiss to make you giggle. Parts of your body that if he touches them, your back arches or you naturally move closer to them.

Like right now. His hand teasing around your sex, not quite touching where you so desperately want him.

His mouth only parts from yours to begin kissing down your jaw, then onto your neck. Finding solace there, he makes a mark on your pulse point, low moans erupting from you. Hands running through disheveled curls.

His hand finally reaches your cunt, and you hear him groan at the wetness growing on your panties. He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod desperately in return, not sure what he’s planning in that genius brain of his.

He removes your shirt so he can kiss your chest. Then your bottoms, leaving you in only your bra and panties. A finger slides those panties to the side, and he lets out another groan as he slides the digit past your slick folds, and you let out a gasp in return. You give a little tug to his hair and he almost moans at it, which you make a mental note of.

He thrusts his finger out, at a torturously slow pace, all while kissing down your body. You quickly realize when he grins up at you what he wants to do. What he feels he needs to do. You give him a nod of your approval, moans still flooding out.

He stops thrusting and removes his finger, only to replace it with his tongue. Sucking and kissing your clit, sliding his tongue in you while his hands run over skin on your thighs. You bite on your hand just to muffle your moans from the still active party outside, just as his nose bumps your clit.

“Shit, Lip. I'm close- fuck..” You whine as he laps desperately at your sex, and you can feel his smirk. "Language. Let go for me, baby, please." He requests softly, rubbing tiny circles on your clit.

You don't last long after that.

He lets your climax drip down your thighs, grinning to himself as he watches, feeling some of it on his jaw. "Need to feel you, please, Lip." You beg, and he frees himself from his boxers. Giving himself a few strokes before he lines himself up with his enterance. "You ready, sweet angel?" He asks, pressing his forehead against yours and lightly trailing slobbery kisses down your cheek before connecting to your lips. You pull away only after a second, whispering a soft "yes, please" before you're kissing his jaw in anticipation.

He groans, inserting himself past your now damp folds, thrusting gently in and out. He watches as his dick is swallowed by your cunt, your walls fluttering around him like it’s a familiar friend coming back.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure why he pushed you away. Maybe he let the negative thoughts that you were too good for him take over. Maybe it was just the Gallagher thing to do.

But he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

Your moan brings him back to reality, hands on his shoulders as he finds a new position to fuck deeper into you, and he finds himself groaning as your nails dig into his skin. You quickly learn by the way his dick twitches he enjoys that.

And he learns by the way your walls squeeze around him you like it when he hits that spot in you. The spot that makes your head feel blurry, the spot that replaces every thought with his name. The spot that makes moans come out of you, the spot that makes the familiar heat in your belly grow.

“Fuck, Lip, I’m gonna-” Your words are cut off when he hits that spot again, even with a new angle. His forehead pressed against yours, sweat connecting with sweat. “Shit angel, you were just made for me. Pretty pussy just missed me, huh?” His words slur from the pleasure clouding his senses.

Your moans and mixtures of his name are more of an answer for him. The room smelled like sex, sound of skin slapping against skin filled it. He pressed his lips against yours, swallowing your moans as he rubbed small circles on your aching clit, and he feels the familiar white heat pouring out of your cunt.

He doesn’t last long, burying his seed deep in you. Swallowing your whines and moans as he pulls out, only breaking the kiss to stare at you, both of your chests heaving as you catch your breath. Watch your eyes having a silent conversation with his.

He lays down beside you. He watches as you run a hand over your face, and he decides to wash you both up. Returning with a damp washcloth, he helps get you cleaned up and setting your clothes on the end of the bed.

“So, uhm..” He tries to think of a conversation starter, and you shake your head, holding a hand up. “We shouldn’t have done this.” You whisper, frowning as you grab your clothes, slowly redressing yourself.

“You don’t have to go. We can go back to your place or mine and we can just talk.” You don’t realize he’s begging rather than requesting. This can’t be how you and him say goodbye after seeing each other again for the first time.

"I can't do this, Lip." You point out as you fight to get your shoes on.

You’d only see him as a friend.. biggest lie you ever said.

"I love you." He says. "I was an idiot for not saying it before so I'm saying it now. I'm in love with you and I always will be."

Definetly a lie now.

˙ ✩°˖🌸 ⋆｡˚꩜

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- mae:)

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.3 (Hazbin Hotel)

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Sera

"As I'm sure most of you are already aware, we have a problem."

Countless of angels sat, circled at a table, in a glistening, golden meeting hall.

Sera took the head of the meeting, a meeting to discuss what the future of Heaven would look like, now that sinners can be redeemed.

"Sera, the masses are panicking."

"Heaven is a disaster!"

"Have you heard what people are saying?"

"ENOUGH!" The booming echoes of Sera's voice bouncing off the walls brings the entire hall to a complete silence.

"I am aware that there is some panic. But if we allow ourselves to succumb to it as well, then there may as well be no future for Heaven. We cannot let the city fall to chaos."

"But what should we do?" Another voice calls out.

"What can we do?" Says another.

Suddenly, the small figure seated next to Sera rises.

"I'm not sure what the problem is. The point of Heaven and Hell should be for people to redeem themselves. If they made it this far, they can't be that bad, right?"

Somebody scoffs at this. "Always the purist, Emily." The smaller girl glares back, not backing down. "As leaders of Heaven, we should be doing everything we can to support people making the right choices. Even if those people have already made some wrong ones."

Sera lays a hand over Emily's. "It's not that simple, Emily, and you know that. We have to protect our people first."

"So, what? You're just going to throw the sinners out? Without even giving them a chance? We haven't even met the new sinner yet, and they put in all that hard work just to be better people, you can't just-"

"Emily, there will be no more of that. I know what we are dealing with, and it's not for you to concern yourself with. You will not speak of or go near this sinner. This meeting is to discuss what we will do to preserve Heaven, and that's all."

Emily flinches. "I can't even meet them? I thought it was about the future of Heaven? I think that should include-"

"The meeting is about what I decide it will be." Sera shoots Emily a sharp glare, and she trails off, quietly sitting back in her seat. Sera's glare softens.

"I'm only doing what's best for all of us, Emily."

"So.. you have an idea?" Another angel speaks up.

"I don't. Not yet. But I'm going to discuss with the leader of the angel army, and see what our options are."

Another angel raises their hand. "Where is Adam?"

Sera's face twists with a flash of anger before she quickly composes herself. "He was supposed to be here half an hour ago."

--

You

"You'd better start making some sense right now Adam, or I fucking swear I'll snap your other wing in half."

Adam grimaces, reaching both hands behind his back to clutch his wings. "Don't fucking touch me bitch." He snarkily replies.

"Adam. Talk!"

"Alright, alright. Can we sit at least?"

You walk him to the couch, gesturing angrily before taking a seat on the other side of the room.

"Look, there's no easy way to explain any of this. Not with you having no memory of it."

"You are such a fucking-" Adam holds a hand up, cutting you off. "Just let me finish. Please."

There's a certain sincerity you've never heard in his tone, so you nod quietly, allowing him to continue.

"There are records of the memory wipe. And I would offer to show them to you if I had them, but they're not in my posession. Sera is in charge of those."

"Sera? The one I met earlier?"

Adam nods. "So why does she have them?" He swallows. "It's considered.. highly sensitive information. And I'm not allowed to have it because they think I'd be.. biased."

"Why?"

You notice he begins to bounce his knee.

"Because of our.. history."

"What history, Adam?"

He swallows again, hard, fidgeting with the edge of the couch, knee still bouncing.

"We were.. married."

You laugh. "Okay, good one, now seriously can you explain for real this time?" Adam says nothing, looking away from you uncharacteristically.

"Adam. You can't be serious, right?"

"Ev-" He cuts off. "(Y/N). I'm not joking with you. Why the fuck would I make some stupid shit up like that?"

"Because it's what you do! You're an asshole!"

He flinches. "Fuck you, that was rude."

"Rude? You know what you are? You're derranged. That's the conclusion I've come to. There's no way any of this is fucking serious, you're a psycho, get out of my room."

"Can you just listen, please? You didn't even hear the entire-" He pleads.

"Adam, I listened, and I'm over it. Get out." You cross your arms, turning away from him.

For a moment, all is silent, and then you hear the quiet rustling of Adam standing, and the door opening and closing.

You turn, making sure he's gone. You sit on the bed, practically collapsing into a heap of nerves and sweat. You fiddle with your fingers, willing them to stop shaking.

Suddenly, there comes another knock at the door. You sigh, rolling your eyes. "GO AWAY!" You scream.

"I'm sorry, but we need to speak." You hear the soft, yet stern voice of a woman. Opening the door, you find Sera.

"I saw Adam leaving the building. Was he with you?"

You nod. "Spouting off some insane bullshit as usual. Did you need something, uh, Sera, right?"

"Right. I was hoping to have a quick word?" She raises her hand, gesturing to the room. You step aside, opening the door for her.

She elegantly glides across the room, perching in the nearest chair, hands folded across her lap.

"What was your name again?" She asks. "(Y/N)."

"A pleasure. I'm sure you're feeling very confused right now, as we all are, I'm afraid."

"I just.. don't really understand how this was happening. I died fighting angels. If anything, I shouldn't even be up here right now."

Sera purses her lips into a thin line, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "Yes, well, it would seem you've done things to redeem your soul. Something we all thought couldn't be accomplished.

I have to ask you, (Y/N). I've been told you've been here before, for a.. meeting." She pauses. "Yes, that was it. A meeting. Do you have any recollection of ever being here before?"

"Well no, but maybe that's why Adam is confused." Sera's eyes narrow. "Adam? What did he say?"

For some reason you can't explain, you feel a pit forming in your stomach. You cross your arms defensively. "Nothing too interesting, just that we'd met before."

She studies you for a moment before nodding, suddenly rising from her seat. "Yes, I'd heard the same as well. He must be the one causing the confusion." She heads for the door.

"Was that all you needed?" You inquire. "Yes, just wanted to make sure there was no unnecessary rumors flying about. Of course you've never been here before. Right?"

She pauses at the open door, glancing back at you over her shoulder.

"Right."

She smiles politely. "Good. Have a good day, (Y/N)."

--

Adam

"Are you out of your mind, sir? Sera is going to be pissed."

Lute stands in front of him, a scolding tone in her voice.

She had initially been thrown for a loop - she had no idea who (Y/N) was when she stabbed her, and after arriving back in Heaven, she and a handful of specifically selected people were briefed on who (Y/N) really is.

"You weren't supposed to tell (Y/N) anything. If she remembers who she is, it's going to cause absolute chaos throughout Heaven AND Hell. You need to-"

"Can you shut the fuck up for a minute please?" Adam waves his hand dismissively at her, turning away. "Sir. This is important! When Sera finds out, she's going to-"

BANG, BANG, BANG

Lute is cut off by a sudden pounding on the door. She opens it to find Sera, a look of rage twisting her normally graceful features.

"Adam. I assume you know why I'm here."

Adam sighs, rolling his eyes. "Because you know I talked to (Y/N). Well you can save it sister, she didn't believe me anyways."

"And what if she had? Do you know what that will do to us?"

Sera crosses the room, standing directly in front of Adam. "You need to start considering the consequences of your actions. You can't just do whatever you please all the time."

Adam turns, walking away from her. "You don't understand what it's like, Sera." He mumbles. "She deserves to know."

"She doesn't even remember you Adam! You're letting your feelings get in the way of things. If I have to replace you as leader of the angel army, I will. I won't let you bring down everything we've built here just because of your stupid crush-"

"Crush?" Adam feels a knot forming in his throat. "You don't fucking-"

Lute swoops in, grabbing Adam roughly by the shoulder. "Sir, don't."

He looks at Lute, swallowing the anger he feels bubbling up, along with any argument he had for Sera.

"Alright Sera it won't happen again. Okay?"

"No, it won't. That's why I am not allowing you near her."

Adam straightens up. "What?"

"You heard me correctly. You clearly cannot compose yourself around her, and it's turning you into a threat. You stay away, or there will be consequences.

For you, and her."

--

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests!

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

[dragon-spaghetti]

I gotta ask about Violet a bit. How would you explain her relationships with the rest of the Hazbin crew? Are any on the "auntie and uncle" ranks?

Does she stay at the hotel or does she live off the property?

How would her first encounter with Lucifer go, in your opinion?

NIYA WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH ILY FOR ASKING ABOUT THE GIRL!!

For anyone not in the know; Violet is my husk fandaughter from when he was alive, she's somewhere between 7-12 (haven't decided yet) and currently resides in heaven

For the sake of this we're gonna pretend there's some explanation for her meeting everyone in hell; she loves most of the people there!!! She gets along really well w Angel which husk is super thankful for ;v; she thinks he's v funny even if she doesn't always understand his jokes (though he does his best to tone them tf down)

She and Charlie get along like a house on fire; two positive gals running around just tryna make everyone as happy as possible, it is chaos putting them in a room together 😭 she's kinda nervous around vaggie at first honestly, but after a few conversations together she's much more at ease ;v; they both have auntie status

She thinks it's fun to try and keep up with Niffty as she runs around the hotel, but put em both together when they're hyper and something will probs end up on fire 💀 husk tries to keep her away from alastor however he can, but he doesn't mistreat her at all when they do interact. She thinks he's a bit weird, but funny

UP IN HEAVEN IVE DECIDED SHE DOES MEET PENTIOUS AND HE LOVES HER. He's uncle Pen, even before he figures out she's his friend's daughter. Finding that out just makes him even more determined to look after her until husk can join them, telling her stories of her father and how good of a friend he was

As previously mentioned, she is up in heaven!! Being taken care of by other family members as neither of her parents are up there with her :,) first thought was husk's grandmother, who I have just now decided loved magic tricks and is where he got the love for them from

Lucifer makes her so many rubber ducks. And she fucking loves them. She thinks he's hilarious if a bit dorky. Absolutely 0 concept that this is the king of hell, he's just a silly goofy guy. First interaction is him asking who's lost child is this, looking between her and husk, and going 'oh!' while she stands there like ;v;

[midnightfantasiez]

Twisted Love | 하나 (chp. 1)

SUMMARY: you were certain that you would never find love nor ever lose your virginity throughout university, that is until a man named Lee Sangyeon came into the picture and offered to become your tutor; in exchange for keeping your grades up, and most importantly, teaching you everything you needed to know about sex. it was all just for fun & games, that is until one of you started to develop feelings for the other.

PAIRING: tutor!Sangyeon x afab!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: frat parties whoopie 🤠, alcohol consumption, Sangyeon is such a flirt dear god, petnames (sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby), reader gets drunk, kissing, oral (reader receiving), Sangyeon's goddamn tongue 😮‍💨, foreplay, cum tasting (Sangyeon forces reader to 😃), size kink, readers loses their virginity to Sangyeon, p in v sex, unprotected sex (be careful irl folks), cursing, multiple orgasms

WORD COUNT: 3,535

A/N: and so the chaos begins 😈 shoutout to both @sungbeam @momhwa-agenda for beta reading this for me!! 💗

send me an ask/comment to join the series taglist! those in my permanent taglist will automatically be added!

The loud, blaring music was the only thing that resonated within your eardrums as you tried your best to navigate the fraternity house with a glass of Long Island Iced Tea in your hand. It didn’t help that the entire venue was dimly lit and crowded, no matter which corner you tried to escape to. 

It was the day right before the new semester started, and your roommate convinced you to join the frat party hosted by the co-ed sorority house just down the block from your apartment. To commemorate both of you finishing up your first year and venturing into the next, your roommate decided it was about time you both stepped out of your comfort zone and had a little fun before hell started the following day. 

There was a problem, though: you weren’t much of a party scene type of girl. Sure, you drink a little bit occasionally, but frat parties were definitely out of the question. On the other hand, your roommate often heads down to the local bars every weekend to get wasted and return home during the wee hours of the day. If only you both didn’t have 8 am classes every single day (because, well, being a law student sucked), you were pretty sure that your roommate would’ve gone out every single night if she could. 

But it was totally fine with you, though—you are both still good friends, so you often just turn a blind eye to her drinking habits. In fact, sometimes, she was the perfect friend to go to whenever you needed drinking advice; she was the one who broke you out of your shell and ventured into the whole new world of alcohol consumption anyway. 

Thanks to her, she managed to drag you out of the house and attend this frat party with her because you promised to spend more time with her after finals were over after turning down multiple of her offers during the previous semester. Now, there was no escape for you since you were free from studies, and your part-time job didn’t really need your assistance until several weeks later; you had no choice but to give in. 

You were constantly linking your arms with her wherever you went, staying close to her at all times because, quite frankly, you struggled with social anxiety. But as long as you were close to your roommate, everything would be much more bearable than it was.

However, at some point, you unintentionally slipped your arms off her, and she probably didn’t notice either, as she blended into the crowd of strangers fairly well. Now, you were just standing in the middle of the room, groups of people constantly walking past you. Immediately, you started to panic—the alcohol in your system was also giving you a hard time as you tried your best to look for your friend since you were slowly starting to get tipsy. 

But you were determined that you needed to reunite with your roommate no matter what, so you tried your best to push through the crowd with the glass of cocktail in hand, hoping that she hadn’t gone too far away and that you would be able to find her as soon as you could. 

That was until you unintentionally bumped into someone, and the alcohol in your system was once again slowly disrupting your senses. As you try your best to squint your eyes and look up to who it is, you are greeted by a somewhat built tall man leaning down to your eye level, trying to start a little conversation with you.

“Hey, are you lost, pretty little thing?” 

You were met by a tall black-haired male, about 176cm tall, holding a glass of whiskey in his hand as he began looking at you from top to bottom. Even when you were tipsy, you could clearly examine his well-built body and how good he looked. You had no idea such good-looking students resided in the sorority house. 

“O-Oh, yeah…I mean no…I’m supposed to look for my friend…” 

“Hmm, what does she look like? Perhaps I could help you find her?”

“Oh no! It’s okay; I can handle it myself—”

Before you could even finish your sentence, you began losing your balance. You were about to stumble to the ground until a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, preventing you from actually having that impact. 

God, this is why you hated alcohol. 

“I don’t think you’re in a very good state to go hunting for your friend, sweetheart. Let’s go get some water from the pantry,” the male insisted, and he began guiding you all the way to the kitchen, which wasn’t located too far from where you were standing. He immediately made you sit on one of the chairs surrounding the dining table. He quickly fetched warm water in a glass and handed it to you. 

At this point, your subconsciousness was slowly fading away, and you were still holding onto your cocktail, not wanting to let it go. In return, the male himself had to help unwrap your fingers surrounding the glass of alcohol and place it far away from you. Once he did so, he gently placed the glass of water in your hands, guiding you to drink it while you began whining like a baby.

“I don’t wanna~ Give me back my cocktail~” You slurred. 

“I’d like to think you’ve had enough alcohol for the night, princess. You’re going to blackout soon if you take another sip of that,” the male replied while he was slowly trying to push your arms down from trying to take the alcoholic beverage located on the dining table. 

“Who are you to tell me what to do~ You don’t even know me~” You whined, slowly getting slightly annoyed with everything. 

“I am certainly gentlemen enough to step in and stop a stranger from doing something they might regret later on,” he insisted. 

“No, no, no! I don’t like it! Give it back to me!” You were starting to raise your voice a little, but it wasn’t loud enough to cause a commotion; well, technically, this was a frat party where loud music was just blasting all over the entire house. 

But the male wasn’t going to back off so easily. “Princess, please stop it; you’re not going to last—” 

The next thing that happens is you dive into his embrace and seal your lips with his. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck and began kissing him messily, devouring the hints of whiskey that were left on his lips. The male himself was initially taken aback; his eyes widened, and he did not know what to do. Yet, you were devouring him hungrily, and you eventually tried slipping your tongue into his mouth, and that was when he knew he was fucked. 

In response, he kissed you back aggressively, tilting his head to the side to gain more access to your mouth. And boy, did he enjoy the little hints of cocktail left behind on your lips. If this is what you have always heard about your roommate telling you how making out when you’re drunk looks and feels like, it definitely exceeded your expectations. You were on cloud nine, the tension and lust in the air being all prominent, causing you to crave for more. 

Suddenly, your hands slowly creep up on his built chest, touching them as if it were something all brand new to you. How rock solid it felt, and how badly you wanted to lift his shirt actually to feel it bare— 

“Sweetheart,” he panted. 

“Y-Yeah?” You asked, all while still kissing the male aggressively. 

“Do you wanna see what’s underneath?” 

“Hell, yes, I fucking do.” 

He smirked in between the kisses. “Well then, let’s take this somewhere else, shall we? Somewhere more private and where we will be having loads of fun together.” 

You couldn’t remember exactly how you ended up in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs in the sorority house. All you remembered briefly was how he picked you up in one swift motion, your legs wrapped around him all while he took you upstairs, lips still intact with one another. 

The next thing that happened was that you were lying flat on the bed, your pants were completely stripped off from you and tossed on the ground, and the male himself was situated in between your thighs, slowly leaving trails of kisses all the way close to your cunt. 

As soon as he reached your underwear, he began rubbing it slowly and gently, causing you to elicit a moan as you arched your back from that sensation. He knew what he was doing, and it felt so good. 

“H-Hey…can you…uughh…can you kiss m-my…” 

“You want me to eat you out?” Well, that was pretty straightforward.

“Hnngh…yeah…please…” you begged. 

“Only if you call my name, sweetheart. It’s Sangyeon.” 

“S-Sangyeon…please…” 

If only you knew how pretty his name sounded coming out of your mouth, oh god, how badly he wanted to give you whatever you asked for. 

“Now that’s a good girl,” he smirked as he pulled your underwear down and tossed it straight towards the ground; the cold air that was hitting your now wet spot suddenly sent a little wave of current down your spine. 

As he slowly made his way back to your cunt, he noticed how you were already dripping wet, and he grinned at the sight that was in front of him. Your face was flushed, chest moving up and down heavily, and god, the way you looked so adorable in his eyes—making him want to make you cum as much as he possibly could. 

“Baby, you look absolutely gorgeous right now. I’m going to devour you up so bad and suck you dry, not leaving a single drop of your juices behind.” 

With that, he immediately connected his lips to your wet cunt, your moans now much louder and more prominent than before. If you thought his fingers were deadly enough, apparently, he had another wildcard up his sleeves—his tongue. 

Your head was spinning as his tongue throbbed in and out of your cunt, picking up his pace gradually, where he decided to yank you slightly closer to his mouth, causing him to penetrate his tongue deeper into you. Your hands gripped the sheets of the bed tightly, and naturally, you arched your hips up in hopes of wanting him to eat you out more. 

“Hnngh, Sangyeon! I-I’m going to cum!!” 

You were pretty sure that he heard that because the next thing that happened, he quickened his pace, and within seconds, your liquids came gushing out from you, and that didn’t stop him from licking every single drop. 

As you slowly came down from your high, he was gently kissing all of your sensitive areas around your bud before lifting his face to move up towards you; now, both faces were just merely inches apart. 

“Taste your own cum, baby. Tell me how it is,” he mentioned quickly before diving down, locking his lips with yours, his thumb pulling your chin down slightly to ensure you have gotten every single drop left on his lips. 

Once he pulled away so that you both could breathe deeply, he gently caressed your face before asking the question.

“How does it taste, princess? Did I do a good job?” 

“Y-Yes…It tastes so good…” 

Instantly, a smile plastered across his face, and he leaned down for another peck on your lips. “Is there anything else I could do to pleasure you this evening, princess?” 

There was something that you have always wanted to do from the back of your mind, but you have always been afraid to try it out. Ever since you entered college, you have always felt pressure around you when most of your friends have told you how they have already lost their virginity, making you feel like you’re still a little child waiting for your parents to get you your favourite strawberry flavoured lollipop from your local candy store. 

However, you were also terrified of losing it, especially when you have heard horror stories on campus about how some girls have had traumatic experiences doing it with people that they didn’t really love or trust. 

But it was always on your to-do list before you graduated from college, and if you were to ever do it, you would definitely not do it when you were sober. What exactly was the reason? You have no idea. Perhaps losing it when you were tipsy or drunk would have felt ten times better for you so that you wouldn’t have to remember about it much. 

Given the fact that this Sangyeon guy has treated you nothing but well so far throughout the party, you figured that he probably isn’t those bad guys that people would tell you to stay away from. Besides, you were certain that you wouldn’t be meeting anyone from the party ever again when the new semester began. 

It’s now or never. 

“I want you, Sangyeon. I want you so bad.” 

At first, you immediately tilted your face towards the side, not wanting to see the expression on his face as you said that. Who were you kidding, asking a random stranger to take away your virginity just like that? If he were a fuckboy, he probably would’ve done it right away without even having to wait for you to pose the question. 

God, this is going to be another awkward moment—

Immediately, you felt his fingers wrapped under your chin as he turned you to look back at him, his face now merely inches away from you. 

“If you want me to fuck you good, then I suggest you keep your eyes opened and watch carefully, baby.” 

He then pushes himself back up and immediately lifts his shirt all the way up out from his head and throws it to the floor. You were pretty sure you were drooling at this point because you finally saw his bare, well-built body in person—rock solid toned abs, big built chest, and god, his body proportions were to just die for. 

Before you could even comment on his body, he quickly yanked his pants and boxers down, revealing his now huge erected cock that he was rubbing slowly. 

God, it’s a hell of a monster cock. 

“Like what you see, princess?”

You quickly snap back from reality as he now slowly positions his cock directly onto your cunt, the tip now rubbing your entrance as he crawls up to you again. 

“Are you ready, sweetheart? Ready to take it all in?” 

You gulped. “Y-Yeah…I guess…”

He smiled and giggled at the sight of you. “You look so cute, do you know that? Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.” 

Immediately, one of his hands finds its way to yours and interlocks them while his other hand helps push his giant cock into you, causing you to yelp and shut your eyes tightly from the impact.

Oh my god, you actually did it. 

“Hey, baby, you okay?”

Trying your best to find the right words as you panted, you slowly responded to the male while your other free hand grabbed onto his arms. “Y-Yeah…I just…” 

“I’ll give you a moment to adjust, hmm? Tell me whenever you’re ready; I’ll start off slow.” 

After a few seconds of calming your heartbeat down a little, you slowly give him a nod, indicating that he could continue with what he was doing. The pace started slow but impactful, your walls were absolutely tight as hell, and his cock was just trying its best to loosen and break them apart. 

“Let me guess,” he panted. “This is your first time doing it, huh?”

“W-What? How did you know?”

“Oh, I know alright; I’m pretty much a veteran when it comes to sex.” 

What in God’s mind made him say that out loud? 

As much as you wanted to comment on that, you were so out of your mind to even think straight because Sangyeon was now thrusting faster into you, knowing that your walls weren’t as tight as they were before. 

“S-Sangyeon!” 

“Use your words, baby. Tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I-It…it feels so good…aaahh!” 

“You like it when I fill you up with my cum, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, I want you, I want you so bad!” 

That was all he needed to hear, and he reconnected his lips with yours for a couple of seconds, kissing you feverishly before breaking the kiss to pound you much faster and harder. In return, you suddenly felt a knot in your stomach, and that’s when you knew you were near. 

“S-Sangyeon…” 

“Yes, baby?” 

“I-I’m going to cum…” you whispered, desperately trying to warn him beforehand. 

“Then cum for me then, tell me. Where exactly do you want me?”

“I-Inside! Please! Cum inside of me!!” You screamed. 

It was as if you both had the perfect timing as you both came together, filling each other up with your own respective liquids. You let out a deep gasp from your orgasm, and Sangyeon groaned out loud before he collapsed on top of you. 

It took a few moments and a little breather before he lifted himself up a little, desperately trying to find your lips again and devour them slowly. You then moved your fingers up into his hair, slowly enjoying every bit of feeling how soft it is. 

As your exhaustion slowly takes over you, your eyelids begin to fall, and you finally pass out into dreamland, his soft, plump lips on yours being the very last thing you remember.

You were awakened by the sound of your alarm coming from your phone as you tried your best to reach for it, which was placed on your nightstand. 

When you finally squint your eyes to turn off the alarm, you shoot up from bed based on what you see on your screen. 

You had 10 minutes left to prepare for your first class of the year. 

Immediately, you hurried out of bed and dashed right into your toilet, trying to clean yourself up within 5 minutes so you would have the other remaining 5 to dash to campus.

You didn’t even bother putting on makeup for the day (which you would usually wear lightly); at this point, you only cared about being presentable and not looking like a homeless college student who got kicked out of her apartment.

There goes my effort to actually make a good first impression at the start of the new semester. 

You couldn’t even say a simple good morning to your roommate who made your favourite toasted cream cheese bagel as you dashed straight out the door, having only one of the straps on your backpack slung over your shoulder.

As you made your way towards campus, the usual short route that would’ve taken 5 minutes if you walked and 2 minutes, if you dashed, felt much longer. But you knew that it was completely your fault since you were the one who overslept and fucked up your sleeping schedule.

Or did you?

That was when questions began popping up in your mind. The last time you remembered you were still awake and conscious was when you were at a frat party with your roommate.

A frat party…

That’s right.

You went to a frat party at the sorority house not far from your apartment, and then you remembered getting separated from your roommate and trying your best to locate her throughout the house…

…and you bumped into a man named Sangyeon.

Fuck, you actually lost your virginity last night. 

The next thing you knew, you had already arrived right in front of your lecture hall, and you quickly took a quick breath and tried to compose yourself, shaking off all of the thoughts that had happened the night before.

Screw it, I’ll deal with whatever happened last night later.

You quickly navigated the entire auditorium, only to find that the front seat was left that wasn’t taken. You absolutely hated sitting in front, especially when you weren’t at your best self this morning. But you didn’t have much choice left as your professor walked into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

You reluctantly sat down and took your laptop out, turning it on while you began to hear your professor’s voice in the background.

As you were busy trying to rummage through your bag to find your textbooks, you began hearing the girls around you squeal, making you tilt your head up to see what was happening. 

That was when you wished you could hide under the table and vanish from campus right this second.

A tall, black-haired male walked into the hall with a folder in his arms and made his way right next to your professor while introducing himself. His neatly styled hair was parted to the sides. He also wore a black blazer over his white tee, which, quite frankly, made him look effortlessly attractive.

“Class, this gentleman right here is Lee Sangyeon, and he will be the teacher’s assistant for this semester.” 

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” 

A/N: me as i write this sangyeon series: "why do i do this to myself 😃" (no yall do not want to know the endless amount of brainrot i went through writing this)

series masterlist

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @flwoie @daisyvisions @momhwa-agenda @snowflakewhispers @mamuljji @synthwxve (join my permanent taglist here!)

[thevillainswhore]

Can’t Take My Eyes Off You

Pairing: Stalker!IT/tech!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

(snippets/mentions of Carter Bazien x F!Reader and Ending, Beginnings!Frank x F!Reader)

Summary: Bucky, the IT and technology expert of your office, has been secretly obsessed since the moment he set his sights on sensitive, naive, little you. But, your only fault is your repetitive ability to get your heartbroken by fuck boys. So, naturally, he has to do whatever it takes to make you see he’s perfect for you… right?

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Stalking, mentions of smut (p in v, male masturbation) violence, grievous bodily harm, dark elements, possessive behaviour, hacking, reader is very naive, Bucky is a hell of a warning here (will add more with the upcoming chapters) PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS - THIS IS A DARK FIC!!!

A/N: We are finally here!! 😭 incase anyone doesn’t remember, I teased this fic a longgg time ago and it makes me so happy to announce its now live 🥹 as mentioned before this is a multi part story - I’m aiming for 3 parts but it could be more with me who knows 🤣 I also changed the my moodboard bc my last one did not include inclusivity and that is the goal here 💗

So now onto my appreciations ❤️ first of all I need to thank @mickeyhenrys for helping with the fic title - she’s a genius and I’m so thankful! Next, I need to thank @sgt-seabass for the help with the IT/cyber security aspect of things - she was absolutely amazing with providing all the information I needed and I’m super grateful for it. And last and certainly not least… my beautiful @rookthorne. my god I can’t even begin to thank you for all the help you’ve given me on this. To beta’ing this fic, helping me a lot with my moodboard even when I was a pain the ass 🤣 and just supporting me in general with my crazy ideas - this fic sprouted from our brainstorming and looking back from then to where this has flourished now is amazing 💗 thank you for being the beautiful person you are and inspiring me to grow as a writer. I love you so much 🥹

Now onto the fic, please enjoy the start of this crazy, wild ride and good luck - you’re gonna need it… 👀

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

Bucky glances over at you through the window that seperates the two of you, gushing about your new date already. It took you a week, maybe two, to get over the last guy. And here you were, yet again, in the same conversation with the same co-worker, debating about which dress you were gonna wear tonight. 

Did it matter anyway? 

The same shit happens every time. You go out with a new prize idiot, get laid, wait for them to text you back (spoiler: they never do), and you sit there, crying and wondering where you went wrong. 

It was frustrating. 

You only ever go out with the conventional ‘fuck boy’. The same three-piece suits and quiffed hair that looks like it’s been cemented to their skull with product and arrogance, both in equal measure. 

When were you going to get it? You choose the wrong type of guy, every single time. And yet, you wonder why they never stick around long enough to make things official, or to settle down. 

You were gullible; so naive.

The perfect girl that Bucky has kept his sights set on from that very first day that you begun working in the same office.

That’s when you walked into my life, Angel. 

It wasn’t all that new for it to rain in New York. Heels clicked and splashed through the deep puddles of the pavement, and leather briefcases bumped against each other in the chaos of the crowds as Bucky made his way to work.

He found he didn’t so much mind the repetitive routine – his life had never been exciting. It gave him peace of mind to hear all the usual sounds and to witness the usual frenzied rush from his run down apartment all the way to his office.

 

He liked his job, truly. It’s what he’s always excelled best in and it’s what has kept him in his comfort zone. There was never no real need to talk to people as all communication or pleas for help were addressed in an email. Those who didn’t email always dragged themselves to his office and slammed their technology down on his desk, grunt or curse at him, before primly walking back out again. 

That would anger most people – the blatant disregard for his existence and the treatment similar to that of a scolded dog, but Bucky’s been there for ten years now, and over those many, many days, he had gotten used to it. 

It was a bonus, however, that nobody questioned him once on how he managed to fix every problem with their device with so little information as a curse and a demand to get it working.  

Pushing the door open, Bucky expects to be walking into a normal day at the office. Paying no notice to the hustle and bustle of his colleagues at work.

That is until he’s stopped in his tracks. 

The surprise of seeing the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on; a woman that was sunshine and everything he dreamed of personified standing in the lobby. He watched you speak to anyone that paused to say hello. 

The errant thought of such an innocent bunny smiling for all that gave her attention made his cock twitch in his pants. He wanted to give you that attention that you craved.

Never had he been so entranced by and enamoured in anyone. He thinks he could stay like this forever, almost blown over by his new found obsession that made his hands shake and the whole volume of blood in his body to rush to his rapidly swelling cock.

That obsession called and rooted for him to take the few steps and cover the distance to reach you, when he was abruptly shunted forward by another body slamming into his back. 

He spun around, ready to curse the person for being so oblivious, when he saw Brock. “Hey man, why the fuck were you just stand- Oh, I take it you’ve seen the new hire, hot isn’t she?” 

The predatory smile on Brock’s mouth physically made him recoil.  Looking Brock up and down, clear disgust in the sneer and glare of his expression, Bucky turned and stalked away towards the stairs in a bid to head to his office. 

His closest safety net, the office where he spent his days, came into view and he slammed open the door, only to fall back onto it, his breath coming in sharp pants. Wildly, he glances around him and then out of the blinds that shroud his office from onlookers. Nobody was paying attention to his moment of crisis and doubt, except, he finds you glancing over your cubicle wall. 

You send a small wave, one of which Bucky can’t believe is directed at him, and you smile broadly – a kind gesture. He can’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that. 

Bucky hastily looks away and strides over to his desk, adjusting the sudden tent of his slacks before he turns to sit in his desk chair to start his day. 

Who the fuck is she? 

The day starts slow, each task as mundane as the last, when you finally get a chance to talk to Sasha, your favourite co-worker. “I really think he’s going to be the one this time.” You can’t stop grinning, wiggling in your seat from excitement to be going out with Frank this weekend – the party that you met him at still fresh in your mind. 

“Girl, you said that last time! With... What was his name again?” Sasha groans, her chair swivelling so she could face you fully. You stare at her with a furrow in your brow while she stumbles to remember the name. “Chad? No, I don’t think that was it… Chris?” 

“His name was Carter.” There's heartbreak evident in the way your voice turns to a solemn whisper when speaking of him, and your eyes start to water as you begin to think about how your previous date left you high and dry after your night together – only to ghost you the next morning. Your lips start to tremble at the memory. “And I thought we said we weren’t going to speak about him anymore.” 

Sasha notices your dejected expression. “Shit honey, l’m sorry. I just want you to be happy.” You nod once, wiping your cheek with your palm. “Car-” She hesitates, and then frowns. “He-who-shall-not-be-named was a rich asshole, he doesn’t deserve you and he can choke on a dick.”

The crass statement shocks you. “Sasha!” you admonish, glancing around the office for anyone milling about that may have overheard. Although you were never one to bad mouth, you couldn’t help the small giggles spilling out at her vulgar words. 

Sasha’s abrupt and scandalous nature has always been the exact opposite to your docile character, but she was the first true friend you had made in the office – always looking out for you, taking care of you, and with your doe-eyed persona, the men can’t help but desire to have a piece of you. 

It is a blessing that she always knew how to pick you back up when you were down, no matter how many times you would come to her in tears over the same problem. 

“Anyway, I promise this one is different,” you promise. The sadness that gripped you a second before fades with the humorous nature of your friend. Sasha shoots you a look. “I didn’t even match with him on Tinder! We met at that party–the one I told you about, Daphne’s?”

“I remember,” Sasha murmurs, nodding. 

The memory flashes across your mind, and you shake your head slightly. “He looked so silly with the little tiara on his head. He came up to me and we talked a little–said I looked really pretty and that we should meet up sometime,” you explain, almost imploringly – you desperately want her to understand that it was a good thing. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it–for me to get myself out there?”

Pride makes your voice strong, unwavering in it’s conviction. Stepping out of your your social circle is a huge step, and by the softening in Sasha’s gaze, she thinks so, too. 

The night you met Frank swirls in your mind, clouding it as you stare dreamily at the wall beside Sasha’s head.

The party was in full swing – loud cheers and clinking bottles and glasses filled the night air, while the pounding bass music rattled your chest. Your friend, Daphne, had left to go smoke in the corner, abandoning you to your own devices by the pool. 

Fairy lights had been strung up from pole to pole above you and you were admiring them, when Frank caught you by surprise.

“Hey doll,” he greeted, and you glanced at the six foot Prince Charming in a wool coat and tiny tiara. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone in the corner?” 

Frank had thrown you a dashing smile and you found you couldn’t maintain eye contact with his intense gaze – you swore you fell in love on the spot.

To say you were flustered would be an understatement. “M-Me?” 

Frank almost looked amused. “Well, just between me and you dollface… I don’t see anyone else nearly as pretty as you here.”  

As the night went on, Frank continued to sweep you off your feet. You genuinely had no clue how desperate you made him over your sweet little dress riding up your thighs when you fiddled with the the hem. Or when you started to feel shy and you crossed your arms to try and hide yourself – only to squeeze your tits together. It gave him the perfect image of how they would look bouncing up and down on his cock. 

The way he stared at you so sweetly, acting as the perfect gentleman made the butterflies in your stomach swoop and flutter up a storm. You had planned a date with him at the end of the night and you were beyond excited. 

Snapping out of your daydream, you focus back into the present, aware enough of your surroundings to see Sasha clicking her fingers sharply in front of your face making you blink. “Hello? There she is!” She sits back and rolls her eyes. “Jesus girl, I was calling your name for ages. Where did that cute head of yours wander off to this time?” 

“Sorry! I just got caught up in Frank again,” you sigh, dreamily. 

Sasha scoffs. “C’mon, he can’t be that cute. Show me a photo of him.”

You clap your hands and squeal, rushing to search through your bag for your phone to show her just how lucky you are to have someone as wonderful as Frank interested in you. Scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night, you finally find the one you couldn’t stop admiring; him with that silly tiara sitting atop his soft, fluffy hair that you could imagine running your hands through all day, wrapped in a snug jacket with a cigarette between his fingers and blowing out smoke the side of his perfect lips. 

His eyes fixed intently on one thing. You. 

The image sends a shiver down your spine, and before you get too carried away, you turn your screen to face Sasha. 

After a whole minute of considertory silence, she finally speaks up, her voice aweful. “Holy fucking shit, babe. I wanna lick his face.” 

Your jaw drops. “Sasha, oh my god, you can’t just say that!” Laughter threatens to bubble over and your cheeks heat in response.

“Watch me,” Sasha teases, and you both dissolve into laughing fits.

Bucky is seething. He doesn’t think his teeth could be grating together any harder; grinding to dust until his jaw clicks. While your laugh is melodic to his ears, and his heart leaps and bounds at the sound of your voice, even muted from his vantage point of his office, he saw how upset you looked when your co-worker mentioned him. 

Carter. 

Even thinking his name gets his blood boiling. But, he wills himself to calm down. To just breathe. There was no point in getting worked up over that spoiled prick anymore, he’s dealt with after what he did to you –  the very lengths Bucky had to go to get that video Carter took on his phone deleted. 

You, the not so innocent whore on your knees for someone who wasn’t him, begging for Carter’s dick down your throat until you were suffocating; saliva drooling from your chin and dripping down onto your heaving tits.

Bucky can feel his cock twitching in his trousers at the thought of you being so submissive. Pity floods him – you didn’t even realise how Carter had not only ignored your texts that morning, but he had also planned to send that precious gift you had so willingly given to him, to all of his friends and ultimately ruin your life.  Leaving it in shambles for you to pick up the debris of your professional career and sociality with so little care.

Bucky wasn’t the most pleased with you after seeing that video in the first place. It was such a foolish decision to trust and allow that sleazebag to film you. 

He took it upon himself to remove every trace of the video. After all, he was a good person, what a man should be.  

Such a good man that he paid a visit to Carter, leaving him with a few of his own gifts. A black eye, fractured skull, and a break in his right femur that may, or may not have, resulted in him taking residence in the local intensive care unit fighting for his life.

“All I want is for you to be happy. And who better to make you happy than me?” Bucky wonders quietly at his desk, the door to his office wide open so he can hear you chatting to your friend. “I would treat you so good–dote on you every hour of every day, never let you out of my sight, either.”

The next train of thought is one he will not voice aloud, but the vision of him fucking you hard and rough, just as you deserve, until you cried for more – for all of what he could give. 

“You’re better off with me,” Bucky grumbles. His lips turn down into a grimace and he glares at the cubicle wall that separated you from him. “You just don’t know it yet, bunny.”

Nevertheless, here you are, flaunting your latest boy toy off to your friend. 

The pencil he’s been tapping absentmindedly on his desk stops suddenly and small pieces of wood splinters by the second until it snaps in half,  almost capturing your attention – head whipping side to side in search of the noise until you give up and go back to your conversation. 

Pain laces through his hand when the wood scratches his palm, reddening lines etching themselves in retaliation for his daydreaming.

He’s got to be more careful with his frustrations. 

You have hardly ever looked in his direction, let alone spoken a single word to him. Why would you? Not many people did, if he is honest with himself. His shoulder-length dark hair that is always covered by the same black cap in combination with his piercing and brooding stare didn’t give off the best impression, or invite conversation. 

Bucky was not a popular man, even thinking back to his early school years. He was always considered the loner, the nerd, the creep. No sisters or brothers to grow up with; distant parents who paid no mind to him or bothered to foster and nuture his affinities. 

The lonliness of his childhood paved the way to the depths of his desperation. Intelligence was something he had an abundance of, and weaponising the skills of his cyber skills was an underutilised talent of every one of his past employs. 

It never assuades or lessens the burden of need for affection. A craving that naws like a festering wound in his barren heart, for something that could make up for the miserable nights of self reflection and doubt; wondering why he was never enough for his parents, or popular at school where the girls would fawn over him.

Something for his own; to be just his and unable to be taken from him, not by anybody. 

I’m right here, Angel. You just don’t ever see me. 

Bucky has done nothing short of pine after you from afar; stealing glances and furtive wanders to get close in any way he can. 

He knows you wouldn’t go out of your way to talk to him – you don’t run in the same circles and you are definitely not socially compatible. That doesn’t stop him from imagining how soft your skin must be, or how flawlessly your body would melt against his as he railed you into his bed. Your heavenly little cries of his name, breathless chants pleading him to “Keep going!” and “Don’t stop!” never leave his mind. They fuel his needy desires at night until he can get the real thing, whimpering your name until his voice is hoarse as he fucks his fist over and over and over – the thought that it was your hand or your pillowy lips guiding him into ecstacy pushes him to the very brink of insanity. 

The dreams will do for now, he thinks privately as he stares at you through the glass pane of his office wall, straight to your cubicle, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall and muffled through the glass. He’s managed for the last six months since he first saw you, it’s fine. 

Impatience chips away at his resolve, though, and his fuse is shortening by the day.  No matter what it takes, no matter who you think is good for you right now, Bucky will have you, and when he does… He’s not ever letting you go.

[wosowrites]

Chaos Incoming (Kristie Mewis x Reader)

warnings: none

a/n: based off this request:

prompt: in which sam kerr introduces you to her friend kristie, and you two start dating

Sam and Kristie had known each other forever. They were great friends, and although having once tried a romantic relationship, it hadn’t worked as they thought of each other more as friends. Kristie would often travel to London when she could to see Sam, and today was one of those days.

The australian had gotten the blonde american tickets to the Arsenal v Chelsea London derby. In all honesty, Kristie was very excited. Not only to see Sam, but also because she may or may not have had her eye on a certain English woman. The Arsenal captain.

"You like y/n y/l/n?" Sam groaned, leaning over the barrier of Kingsmeadow. Chelsea was warming up on the left side, and Arsenal on the right. "Not like! I just think she’s pretty. And she’s also really good." Kristie said, her eyes drifting to you. You were talking with Leah, your hands on your hips and watching her, nodding. "Pretty sure she has a thing with Williamson anyways." Kristie signed. "Williamson? Hell no. Leah and Jordan Nobbs have a thing. If you want I can ask her to come see you at the end of the game. If she doesn’t piss me off too bad." Sam said. "Ha ha. Very funny. And do not do that. It’s embarrassing!" Kristie said. "Get back to your team. Good luck." Kristie said, hugging the australian gently.

The game was hot headed, Katie Mccabe got a yellow and so did you. Somehow, Jessie Fleming got booked too which causes giggles across the stadium, the poor girl looked mortified and apologized to Leah for her foul profusely.

Min the end, it was an annoying score of 3-3. Both teams were pissed by the score, but happy not to have lost.

You went around, thanking the arsenal fans that were there, and as you walked, you saw a blonde girl in the stands. She looked very familiar.

"Hey, you’re Kristie Mewis, right?" You said, going up to the girl.

She looked a little surprised, and for a second you thought you had gotten it wrong. "Yeah! It’s nice to meet you." Kristie said, shaking your hand. "You too. You know Kerr right, saw you guys talking before the game." You told her. "Yeah, we’re good friends. Surprised you noticed." Kristie said, smiling. "Your hard not too notice, Mewis. I mean you’re wearing a USA jersey to a WSL game in england." You laughed. "Urgh I was hoping no one would notice that. It was the only blue jersey I had with me." She laughed. "Ahhh, Chelsea fan," you jokingly pouted. "Nuh uh, Sam Kerr fan," she answered.

"Well let me help you not stick out." You said.

You pulled your jersey over your head and tossed it to her. "I think red looks better on you anyways." You winked.

She looked a little shocked, but you just smiled and jogged off, waving at a few fans and then going into the tunnel. "Kerr!" you called, making the australian woman turn around. "Yeah? Good game." she said, shaking your hand. "You too. Good goal sadly," you joked. "Back at you. Anyways, what’s up?" she asked you.

"I don’t even know why i’m asking this but… Mewis… would you give me your… i don’t know- blessing? Or is that like out of the question?" you asked, smiling cheekily. Sam looked like she thought about it, but eventually nodded. "You better be nice to her or I swear the next time we play each other…" Sam threatened. "Yeah yeah, broken ankles, studs up tackles, jersey grabbing. Thanks, Kerr. Later."

You walked off, tapping her on the back and heading to your locker room.

"Y/n! Where is your shirt?" Katie groaned. You were in your nike sports bra and captains armband, it looked a little stupid. "Gave it away." you shrugged. "I swear half of the time you don’t have a shirt on." Manu said to you. "Don’t act like I don’t look good," you teasingly winked.

In the team bus, you pulled out your phone and went to Kristies instagram. You followed the account and then pressed message.

Hey! Hope you like the jersey, how long you in London for? I know a good place…

You sent the message and then heard laughter around the bus. "Jesus!" you yelled, turning around to see almost all the girls looking over your shoulder. "Cap’s sliding into Mewis’ dm’s. Who knew she could flirt other than for laughs?" Rafa said. "I hate you all," you groaned. "She’ll say no anyways," you added, slouching down in your seat. "Not after she’s seen your abs!" Leah said, poking your stomach and making you jump. "WILLIAMSON!"

You received Kristie’s answer only twenty minutes later.

Leaving tonight :(

Let me drive you to the airport. Please?

Really? Okay. I’ll send you Sam’s adresse.

The game had been at 12:00 and it was now 5:00. Your hair was washed, you smelt good, you looked put together but casual, and you had put on a little makeup. You were set to meet Kristie at 5:30 and Sam’s apparement was a while away from yours. You drove down there, arriving exactly on time.

Sam was waiting outside with Kristie and her bags. You got out of the car and waited to the side as they said goodbye to each other. You then smiled at Kristie and gave her a quick hug. "Let me help you with your bags" you said, grabbing her suitcase and putting it in the trunk of your car. She sat in the seat beside yours as you started the engine again. "Why are you doing this?" Kristie asked, looking at you. "You left an impression on me, Mewis."

You arrived at the airport soon after, and you decided to go in with her until she got to security. You guys talked, played ten questions, and a bunch of other games to get to know each other.

Your heart dropped once you arrived to security. You had both had a silent agreement to walk really slowly, and knowing you would have to say goodbye to each other sucked. "I wish you could stay longer. You should come to the WSL." you told Kristie who looked at you with soft eyes and laughed. "I can’t move away from home for someone I barely know." she said softly, giving you a reality check. "You’re right. But call me, and text me. And don’t go back to the US and forget about me." You told her, hugging her and holding on. "How could I forget you? I have your smelly jersey in my carry on."

Two months later

Nor a day went by where you hadn’t called Kristie. You were happier. You were already very happy before you met Kristie, but lately it was like you were glowing. Your arsenal teammates didn’t know about your relationship with Kristie. Except Katie who had walked in on a call with her and didn’t stop asking questions. You told her and made her swear to stay silent, which of course meant that Ruesha knew too. But that was it. Katie was constantly saying; "she gives you that glow and you haven’t even had sex yet. Wait till you have sex and you’ll be shining like a fucking diamond."

"Hey my love." Kristie said as you joined the facetime on your computer. "Hi baby. I miss you. It feels so stupid that I’m this in love with you and I haven’t even gotten to kiss you yet." You pouted at the camera, making her laugh. "Tell me about it. I think about that all the time." Kristie said with a soft smile. "How are you feeling… about the international fixtures for next month?" you asked your girlfriend. The lionesses were set to travel to the US for a game against the home country, before going to Brazil for a friendly against them. "Like we’re going to beat your asses." The american joked. "Oh sure." you teasingly rolled your eyes. "But… I also feel like I want to tell our teammates. I don’t like hiding you from them. I’m too proud of you to do that any longer." she said, making you blush furiously. "I agree. We tell them after the game." you said, and Kristie nodded.

Every Friday, you would cook the same meal together, and watch a movie on a netflix party. It was your favorite thing to do and every week, you had to come up with excuses on why your Friday’s were so full.

Today was that day. You made pizza and then watched Lord of the Rings together. Kristie fell asleep on face time and you took a couple adorable pictures, wanting nothing more than to show them off to the world.

One month later, New Jersey.

You sat in the locker room with the lionesses, and the knowledge that Kristie was only a few steps away made you want to scream. Sarina was giving a quick talk but you couldn’t focus. You pulled out your phone discretely and clicked on Kristies contact.

Meet me in front of the 3A janitors closet. Saw it while walking in.

You saw that Kristie read the message and as Sarina stopped talking, you stood up. "I’m gonna go in the halls quickly, need a breather." you told the girls, slipping on your One Love captains armband. "Okay. No longer than ten minutes please." Sarina said.

You nodded and slipped out of the room. You had never ran quicker in your life, which was saying a lot considering what your job was. You turned three corners, and then you saw her. Blonde bun at the top of her head, red USA kit on. She caught your eyes and smiled widely. She started running towards you and jumped in your arms. You held her so tightly, wanting her impossibly closer to you. You held her thighs so that her legs stayed around your waist. She pulled away and you leaned in to kiss her.

Your first kiss with her.

You never wanted it to stop.

It didn’t stop for a long time, your lips moulding together and your tongues fighting for dominance. Air should have become a problem much quicker than it did. You were both running on adrenaline, and when holding her became hard, you just walked her backwards against a wall and kept kissing her. Eventually you had to pull away and put her down, coming to your senses and knowing anyone could walk in the hallway at any time.

"I don’t think anything’s ever felt so good." so said to her, making a smile appear on her face. "I don’t even know what to say. I’ve been thinking about kissing you for months and now i’m just… lost." Kristie said.

You tucked a strand of her bun behind her ear and smiled at her. You pressed a kiss to her forehead and then looked back into her eyes. "Now I have to go beat your ass." you groaned. "Not a chance."

The lionesses indeed beat the USA’s ass, the national team not being in their best shape. You won 3-1, you conceded by a goal from Trinity Rodman, who actually opened the scoring of the game, but the english quickly retaliated. Ella scored in the 43 minute, Alex Greenwood in the 60th, and you sunk a penalty in the back of the net in the 77th.

You didn’t celebrate too hard, but you didn’t hold back completely either. It was the americans after all.

At the end of the game, you shook hands with the home team, and to your suprise, young Mallory Swanson asked for your shirt. You gave it to her, and asked for hers, taking a picture for the media.

All you wanted was Kristie though. You found her quickly and walked over to her, hugging her tightly. You knew the interaction looked suspicious, but you both didn’t care.

"You played great, baby." You said to her. "Excuse me!? Baby?!" a voice said.

You froze and turned around slowly, seeing Alex Morgan standing behind you. If there was one player in all of women’s football you were scared of, it was Alex.

You felt small suddenly, and Kristie stepped in front of you. "We’ll talk in the locker room. Go inside." Kristie said sternly.

Alex looked you up and down but nodded and walk into the stadiums tunnels. "You talk to your team, i’ll talk to mine." Kristie said.

You nodded and followed her inside, separating at the locker rooms with a quick kiss.

Sarina gave the group a quick talk, she was proud of the performance, and then let you guys changed. As the girls took off their kits, you stood up in the middle of the room. You cleared your throat, earning the attention of most girls. "Um. Hi." you said awkwardly.

"Hey cap…" Lucy said, a little confused. "Right. I need to tell you guys something. And none of you guys are aloud to go all protective and run over to the USA changing room." you said. "Did one of them hurt you?" Mary asked, standing up. "What? No! Why do you guys always assume someone’s hurt me?" You asked, confused. Mary shrugged and sat back down. "What I want to say… is that i’m saying Kristie Mewis."

The room was silent for a solid twenty seconds until Jordan starred giggling. "You’re joking? Right." she laughed. "Why would I be joking?" you said, slightly offended. "Well… you-" Ella tried to talk but you cut her off.

"I didn’t tell you guys to get mad fun of! Sure our relationship is untraditional but I love her and-"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence as the door of the changing room came flying open, revealing Morgan, Rapinoe and Alyssa Naeher.

"Get out! Guys!" you heard a voice shriek. It was Kristies. You soon enough saw two hands pulling the jerseys of Alex and Megan backwards, pulling them out of the room. Then you saw Kristie walk in and push her goalkeeper out. "I am so sorry, they freaked out and just came running here." Kristie said, looking at you apologetically. "It’s okay, don’t worry. Just- guys i’ll be right back."

The last part of your sentence was addressing the english girls. You walked out of the room and into the hallway where the USA girls seemed to be fuming. "Hey… what can I do for you guys?" you asked, not knowing what to do. Kristie stood at your side defensively.

"Hurt her and we will all fly to London and beat the crap out of you." Rapinoe said.

You had to try not to giggle, you laughed in awkward situations. "Great. That’s great." you said instead.

Alex looked you up and down and then walked away, the two others following their captain.

Once they were out of sight, you turned to Kristie. "Jesus. My teammates are tamer than yours babe." you joked, pulling her into a tight hug. "Tell me about it. What did your teammates say?" Kristie asked into your neck.

"Um… I’m pretty sure they haven’t had time to process." you answered her, pulling away.

"Wanna come in?" you said, smiling at her. "Not really," she laughed. You grabbed onto her hand and pushed the door open where the girls where whispering dramatically. Once they saw the both of you, hand in hand, they stopped. "So how good is she in bed?" Georgia asked, breaking the silence.

"GEORGIA!"

[skzpixiekaifei]

Taglist: @mynameisnotlaura, @palindrome969

Scene 1: Maniac world tour 2022 V live with her brother 

Kai is sitting on a couch in an unfamiliar setting, pictures of her family barely seen with her old as hell phone.  Kai: Hello!  She giggled, waving her hand around excitedly as a greeting. She looks down at the tablet with the live pulled up, watching comments.   Kai: I’m in my childhood home, that's why it’s so weird looking.  Someone off screen: It isn’t weird looking!! You’re weird looking!  Kai glared at the person off screen  Kai: This is why I’m the favorite child, Bo. I don’t interrupt you when you're working!  Bo: Because I refuse to let you near it, roach  Kai: I hope you die in the worst possible way, Fei Bo  Bo: If it means getting away from your ugly face, I'll gladly take that chance  She takes off her slipper and chucks it at Bo off screen. You could tell by the way he immediately yelled after.  Kai: MOM!! He hit me!!  An older woman off screen: Bo, don’t hit your sister!  Bo: I didn’t DO anything!! She hit ME!!  Kai giggles at the chaos unfolding in the kitchen, her mom scolding her older brother who was glaring at Kai. 

Scene 2: Instagram livestream titled “Changbin simp club” 

Kai is laying in her bed, watching the stream go by, bundled in blankets  Kai: Oh my god! This reminds me of the bubble conversation I saw—Yes, I use bubble, but I’m forbidden to post on there. Something about “Maintaining idol image”, which is BS but anyway.  She sits up, brushing the hair out of her face  Kai: OKAY! So, I keep seeing posts about Changbin going around, and my lizard brain is going crazy at some of the pictures. BIN!! Get in here!!  The door opened, letting in a beam of soft light against her purple lights. Changbin unceremoniously plops himself on her lap, facing her stomach. Kai runs her hands through his curly hair.  Kai: So, you guys know I have a thing for muscles, right. I mean, look at this man  She picks up his arm, squishing the muscle before biting his Bicep.  Changbin: Hey!  He whined, before blowing air onto her stomach, causing her to laugh hard.  Kai: Okay, you can go now  She pressed a kiss to the area she bit, and he walked out, closing the door  Kai: Now, his boobs- 

Scene 3: Kai and her affinity for man boobs 

Kai: Hanji!!  She runs up to him in his diesel shirt w/ the boob window. They were filming a skz talker, and she didn’t realize before it was too late  Han: What- HUH??!  She cups his chest and sticks her head inside it, effectively motorboating him. She walks away, satisfied and Han just stood there in shock 

It was during SKZ talker 48, when she was getting her makeup done, Seungmin walked over and sat on her lap, shocking the artist. She rolled her eyes and groped his chest, getting a squeak from the man. Said man ran away after calling her a pervert. 

During the live show (The one where Hyunjin and Lee Know did the troublemaker challenge), Kai is told to do a dance challenge with Changbin and Chan.  Kai, in English: I'm with the big titty gang  Chan: huH?!?   Chan chases after her and slings her across his shoulder. 

An episode of Chan’s room, Chan was talking about how clingy Kai was  Chan: Oh yeah! (He laughs, all shy now) She is big on the chest area, for some reason? I don’t get it, but-  He gets cut off with Kai running into the room and jumping on Chan in his chair. He does a little scream, Kai shoving her face into his chest while whining  Kai: Don’t give away my secrets, boob man!  She falls off the chair hard and ran out of the room, cackling as he looked after her, perplexed 

Scene 4: Young Pixie being a menace without realizing it 

Kai: Minho hyung!!  Kai is in the haunted house with the other members. She is partnered with Lee Know and Han  Lee Know: Kai-ah! It’s improper to call your elders hyung when you are a girl  Kai stares blankly at Lee know.  Kai: Would you rather me call you motherfuc- 

During the English debate, she is put on the team with less English speakers to make it more even.  Kai: (Mocking the Australians when they laugh at their team) PrAwN oN tHe BaRbIe  Felix, right back at her: Oh my god, Stephanie, do you want to go out to the mall today? (Imitating a valley girl accent)  Kai: That’s not even the right accent! Do you want to meet your ancestors? (She holds up a fist, getting hysteric laughs from her members) 

Kai is watching her members greet the audience, and when it was time for her to introduce herself, she froze, forgetting her line completely(She just had to introduce herself)  Kai: Hello, my name is Bang Chan and you’re watching Disney channel (Proceeds to do the Disney Channel logo) 

Kai starting the trend of her members mocking JYP. Their first performance, she is seen in the background imitating JYP’s singing of their debut. 

[userkatekane]

hi here is part one of my idiot crew

how they look is super subject to change because this is the first time ive drawn most of them and they're all in goofy sketches and it's weird reclaiming something so many spoiled for you but!!! work doodles!!

we're back baby!!!!!

- lil info on them and the tag list below 💛

haylin - idiot, milo's best friend, ren's safe place, benedikt's ward, nari's biggest fan, arlo's flame, 'adopted' sister of leon and aleks, elias' favourite daughter, elena's favourite pet. is the main character, the final girl and the most dangerous user of the term 'ah fuck it what's the worst that can happen?????'

ren - the second smartest kid in the room, haylin's most loyal, thinks of leon like a father, thinks aleks and milo are morons, loves nari to the moon and back in a platonic way, is of the opinion that arlo should fuck right off, also thinks benedikt should get a grip, is probably the only one besides ben and haylin to not be afraid of elena, is a thorn in elias' side. he's not fond of people, he's super athletic, he will do anything for a bag of sour patch kids

leon - everybody's big brother, the drunk dad figure, detective dumbass but not really. will not let you drive. will insist on pizza for dinner. he will be there for you no matter what. no matter what

nari - mischief maker. elias' biggest headache. if elena has no haters then it means nari is ded. cannot be left alone with milo bc they cannot be trusted to behave. if you look at aleks wrong she might stab you in the knee. has adopted ren as her baby brother. somehow gets her way with ben all the time???? anyway she's a thief, protect your pockets

benedikt - cursed. elena's favourite soldier. haylin's everything. has not known peace in about 600 years. is not a vampire but leon still calls him edward. aleks punched him once and broke his fist. ben is a tired old man, yall. but he will take care of you, i promise

aleks - youngest adams brother. the other smartest kid in the room. has a mind that is constantly on the go. he's the science bro. he's also the temperamental bro. he and milo are best friends. and best friends kiss sometimes, okay?????

milo - goofball. hyperactive. would follow haylin into hell if he had to. short king bc all the size went into his heart. has a cat called mr meowcolm. makes ren do his dirty work for a bag of sour patch kids

elias - old man. 700+ years old. is only alive bc his twin sister wont let him die. has decided he is responsible for everyone. he is the softest man alive and he will accept you and all of you and do all in his power to make sure you know you are loved. also he is fighting for his life everyday against the family curse but yknow, just another day

elena - elias' twin. final boss. only behaves bc of elias. doesnt have a heart ( literal ). she's neither good or evil but most people only see the evil. she's the auntie ethel of the game. she eats people. no, really, she does. her jaw comes loose. it's great

arlo - elena's favourite toy. he is the dark romance option. he's also v handsome. he handles being dead and trapped by elena better than anyone. he is also madly in love with haylin. he will scare you for fun. also, he is silly i just wanna bully him

i still need to do harper, felix, jj, zeke, grey and all the other idiots in my lil d&d chaos build but hehe this is the first time ive drawn some of these guys and finally!! finally taken them back from poor treatment from others and people who made me feel bad!!

TAG LIST:

@romirola @hylfystt @greenecreek

@pinksparkl @hibernationsuit

[nkirukaj]

vVv is for Voe

Pairing: StaticBeau & RadioBeau

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Humor!

Word Count: 2.7K

This story is based on this ask

Thanks for the idea!

1. Play Nice

She had never fallen for anything as hard as she fell into Hell. The red skies and atmosphere took her by surprise, but it was the chaos and commotion that disoriented her. After walking broken blocks upon broken blocks she couldn’t take the cacophony of sounds. 

The last building she saw was a large tower with glass windows all around it, and the tall letters “vVv” plastered on it for all to see, before she crouched down, feeling physically sick from the commotion. When she opens her eyes she heads toward said building, taken in by the lights and the colors it projected out to the rest of the city.

When she made it inside the building, she was met with cool air and a large desk, something like a business building. Was this a business building? She looked around and stood, saying nothing until the woman behind the desk called for her attention.

“Excuse me. Excuse me! Do you have an appointment?” She says nothing to the question, only staring at the woman. “You can’t be in the building without an appointment!” she shooes her off

“Yeah, I’m not going anywhere,” she finally speaks

“Can you please go? I will get in a lot of trouble, I can’t let anyone through!” she pleads

She looks around the room for who asked “I don’t give a shit, I need to talk to someone,”

“Courtney, baby,” a voice with a Hispanic accent calls from beyond the desk “That better be your schizophrenia acting up because you’re not supposed to TALKING TO ANYONE IN THIS FUCKING LOBBY!!”

She looks at Courtney mischievously “Yeah, Courtney, you don’t want to get in trouble do you?” 

A large anthropomorphic moth about 10ft tall wearing a blazer and large coat, 70s style clothes sauntered into the lobby “Courtney, what the fuck?!” He eyes her and stops “Oh,” the charm and accent return to his voice “Hello,” he grins, his pink-hued teeth sharp and bright “Are you lost amorcita?”

She stares up at the moth and tilts her head, she sees his grin and responds with her own “Yeah, I am. Where am I?”

“You’re in V-Tower, my love,” he takes her hand and licks up the length of her arm. She recoils a bit and wipes her arm off. “Right now you are in the studio of the infamous, fabulous, and sexy…Valentino,”

She points to him “That’s you,”

“In the flesh,” he grins once more

“Well hello Valentino,” she greets him with a smile “But what is this place? The entire thing,”

“Oh! You’re new! You must have been a very bad girl,” He bends down to look her in the face “You’re in Hell baby, the best part of it,”

“Ahhh makes sense,” she nods

“Awe look at you in your clothes,” he pulls on her shirt “You’re all dirty. Come with me I’ll take care of you hermosa,” Valentino places his hand on the small of her back and leads her up into his room.

Before making it up to his room, they are stopped by a shorter man dressed in a blue suit with a large flat-screen television for a head in front of the doors “Val, who is this? What’s going on?”

“Uhh, this is….” Val starts before trailing off

“Ugh, you don’t know who this is?” he turns to her “Who are you?”

She twirls her hair “Someone pretty,” she smirks

TV man raises his eyebrow and turns to Val “What is this? Are you bringing hobos in here again?”

“Fuck you I’m not a hobo!”

“First of all, she came in here and-“

“Oh my goodness, you’re ridiculous! You don’t have to hire any fucking body off the street!!”

“YOU DON’T YELL AT ME BECAUSE YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!”

“YOU DON’T LISTEN TO ME-

“YOU DON’T LISTEN TO ME!”

A young Black woman with a large blue and red ponytail approaches the argument “What the bloody hell is going on here?” her accent was distinctly British “Who is this?”

“I don’t know Val, who is this?” TV man crosses his arms and stares at Valentino “Hmm?”

“You know YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE!”

“GO AHEAD BLAME ME FOR EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS DO THIS!”

They start to bicker and the British woman slips in and grabs her hand, pulling her off to the side “Come here,” she said in her melodic British accent. 

“Can I use the bathroom?”

She gestures toward it “It’s over there. Don’t blow it up,”

When she enters the bathroom, she rushes to the sink and washes her hands. When she’s done, she looks in the mirror. She slowly reaches up to touch her face, to make sure that what she was seeing was real. She opened her mouth to speak, seeing four fangs, two on each of the sides of her mouth. She picked at them for about 5 minutes straight. They were real too. This was all real. She was a deer, specifically, a doe.

The British woman bangs on the door “Hey! What’s your name? I just realized I don’t have your name! And you’re taking a long time!”

She flings open the door coming face to face with her “Call me…Voe,”

“All right, put this on Voe,” she thrusts an all-red outfit at her

“Could I like, shower first?”

“Can you what?”

“Shower,”

She shrugs “Sure,”

Voe turns back “Wait, what’s your name?”

“I’m Velvette,” she places her hand on her chest

“And what about TV man?”

“That’s Vox,”

She takes in their names and their surroundings before closing the door back in Velvette’s face and removing her clothes, removing each one slowly and painstakingly, as she thinks about her circumstances. Hell, huh? If she was in Hell that was it, right? Might as well do it up. All the things she stopped herself from doing before while she was alive, she could do now, lie, cheat, steal. None of it would matter, because she’s already here. She thought of this as she scrubbed herself with the soap. 

“I told you not to put my stuff in here Melissa! MELISSA!”

“Um, privacy?” She calls out from behind the curtain

“Mhmm, yeah. Alright, Vox. She’s in the shower. Why are you asking if you know?” She shrugs “Maybe cuz she smells? I don’t know,”

“Excuse me?” 

“Hmm?” Vel turns to face her “On the phone! Gosh no respect,” she turns back around.

Voe exits the shower and wraps a towel around her, leaving her clothes on the floor where she took them off. She walks over to Velvette and taps her shoulder.

“Huh?” she turns back around

“Why are you in here??”

“This is where I file my nails,” she gestures to her nails

Voe does a double take “And you can’t do that anywhere else?”

“This is where I file my nails!” Velvette scoffs like Voe is being annoying “You act like no one else can see you,”

“What?”

Velvette gestures up toward Vox’s camera “What the fuck? Is that a fucking camera??!” Voe walks over to it and flips the camera off

“Welp, he’s not gonna like that,” Velvette comments sarcastically

“Are there any rooms without cameras?”

Velvette rolls her eyes “There’s tons of closets,”

“Ugh! Is there somewhere else I can change?”

“And where would you like to change princess?”

Voe scoffs “A bedroom?”

“Ugh,” Vel walks off, dialing on her phone.

Voe turns to stare at her face once more, at least she was beautiful.

______________________________

“Come with me,” Velvette tells her and she obliges. The woman takes her to another bedroom, and she carries the clothes in her arms “Here, you can change here,”

“There’s still a camera,” Voe says under her breath she turns to Velvette “You can go,”

Velvette turns her nose up and exits. The first thing that Voe does is take the towel off her body and put it over the camera. Now comfy that no one can see her, she lotions herself and puts on the clothes that Velvette gave her. It was tight red pants, a red corset tank top, and red wedges. She steps out of the room and smooths herself over.

“Well?” she asked the British woman

Velvette seems impressed “Hmm, not bad. You could stand to lose a few, but…not bad,”

Voe scoffs “You could stand to lose a few,” she says under her breath.

She looks Voe up and down with a smirk and walks away

“Wait!” she calls after her

“Hmm?”

“What now?”

“You can leave if you want. Don’t ever say the Vees never did anything for you,”

Suddenly Vox materializes from the camera mounted on the wall “Stop stop, I heard the whole thing,”

“Yeah, we know you did,” Velvette counters

“Voe, huh,” he gets up into her space, looking down at her

She looks up, full of dignity “Yes,”

“You need a place to stay?” he smirks

“What are you doing?” Velvette asks

Vox taps her forehead and shushes her, she recoils “How about in exchange for a place to stay, you work for me?”

Voe raises a brow “What do you do?”

“What do I do? I’m just your average TV personality,”

Voe’s eyes widen “You work on tv?”

“You bet your sweet bottom dollar ass I do,”

Velvette scrunches up her face in confusion

“So you’re on tv?” Voe asks, suddenly interested

“Not just on, I am,” his face pops up on the television 

Voe smirks “Okay,” 

“So how about it?” He smirks back at her

“What do you want me to do?” her eyes wide and innocent

“You’re just taking my calls, handing my papers, getting me things,”

“So your assistant?”

He nods “Yep,” Vox’s assistant gets a hopeful look, Vox turns to him “Don’t get your hopes up,”

Being Vox’s assistant was quite demanding, he always needed something. One moment it was dry cleaning, the next he needed something typed up, he needed someone to hand him things on his broadcast, and then he’d need someone to sit and listen to him rant about whatever pissed him off that day. Voe was growing slightly restless she didn’t agree to this because she wanted to do clerical work, she wanted to be on TV, and being behind the camera was not cutting it. 

“Why didn’t you type it up while you were doing the dry cleaning?”

“Why would I do that?”

“You never heard of multitasking?”

Voe squints “I can’t carry my computer and your dry cleaning,”

“You have two arms,”

“And I use them both on your dry cleaning!”

“Maybe you should use one on the dry cleaning and the other, TO TYPE MY SHIT!”

“I would BUT YOU HATE WHEN YOUR SUIT TOUCHES THE GROUND!!”

Vox turns around “I can’t I can’t with her,”

“You know I’m not very tall right??”

“Excuses and complaints. GET THE SHIT DONE!!!”

“OKAY FINE! SHIT!” she waves her arms in surrender, dropping them at her sides

“Next you need to type up my broadcast,”

Voe looks at him “You don’t write your own shit?”

“Sometimes he does,” another assistant responds “But he just needs help sometimes,”

She shoots him a glare “I wasn’t talking to you!” she snaps before storming off.

Voe sat at her computer looking at the list of prompts that Vox wanted to touch upon. He was trying to introduce some new products to the market, something about a four-sided dildo, and he wanted her to write the segment on it. If he was gonna treat her like some common sinner, then she was going to show Vox exactly who she was.

_____________________________

“Ladies and gentlemen welcome to Vox-2-Nite! Great to be here, great to see you all.”  He smiles with his hands behind his back “Now first off I just want to congratulate Angel Dust for winning his Sex-xx-i Award for the fifth year in a row!”

“Yes! YES!! YESSSSSSSSSSS!” Someone screams in the crowd

Voe stands behind the set with the other assistants, there to make sure nothing goes wrong “Clearly talk shows have different standards in Hell,”

“And congrats to Angel Dust for getting fucked by 6 guys in a row, if you know what I mean?” the audience laughs at his quip

“Who’s Angel Dust?” Voe asks herself quietly

“Only the most watched porn star in all of Hell,” another of the assistants answers

A camera demon walks past “And the most dramatic,” he rolls his eyes

“Jealous much?”

“Oh I am not jealous,” he walks off

“Okay settle down, settle down. Hey! Shut the fuck up!” the room goes silent for a moment “Anyway, do we have a surprise for you? You spoke and we listened,”

Voe bites her lip in anticipation waiting for the segment she wrote to come up

“Presenting the quad-sided dildo for your asshole and mine,” Vox stops after saying it, he stares at the teleprompter in frustration and confusion, covering the slip-up with a smile. “Ha ha ha, let’s take a quick commercial break!”

Voe tries not to combust with laughter, holding herself together through sheer willpower. 

Vox gets up from his chair and goes backstage, all his other assistants scattering. He spots Voe standing and trying not to laugh. He approaches her.

“Is something funny?” he leans down and gets in her face “Want to hear another joke? This is your last night here!” He grins devilishly

Voe smirks at him “Whatever, not like you appreciated me anyway,”

“Awww, the little girl couldn’t handle running errands? So now she’s gonna run away?”

“I’m not running away, you just fired me,”

He ignores her “Aww you wanna be on TV so bad, but you don’t know,” his voice lowers and distorts “I’m the way to get there. You listen to me and you do what I say. Got it?”

She looks up at him “Yes, sir,”

He smirks “Good girl,” he hands her a pile of random things “Now take all this, and put it away.”

“What are these?”

“Boxes. And when you come back,” he turns his head “VINNY!”

“Yes?” he answered

“Watch her when she comes back,”

Voe sets her brows “I don’t need a babysitter,” 

Vox pinches her cheek “Aww, well clearly you do,” he says in a baby voice

“Uhh Mr. Vox, we’re back in 30 seconds?”

He cracks his neck “No we’re back when I get back on set!!”

“Okay,”

“Ew,” Voe says under her breath

Vox turns back to Vinny “Watch her,” he tells him, venom dripping from his voice

After putting the boxes she goes back to where she was standing, under the watchful eye of Vinny. She saw as the crowd hung onto every single word that came from Vox’s mouth, ingesting it like crack, leaving them wanting more.

“We’ve come up with a new drug that will make your hallucinations real, they can hurt and they can kill you,”

Wtf? Voe thought, but the crowd was eating it up.

“YEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!!!!!”

“You’ve all been a lovely crowd and you will come back for tomorrow night! Trust us with your entertainment!” A bell goes off signaling the end of the broadcast as Vox walks backstage once more “Where is my sparkling water?”

“Right here sir,” 

Voe goes up to him and taps his shoulder “Hey!”

He turns to face her “What?” he sees that it’s her and smirks “Did you enjoy the show?”

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You had them hanging on every word, even though you were saying utter nonsense,”

He places down the glass of sparkling water “My dear, it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it,”

“I want that,”

“Not with that bratty attitude. People don’t listen to brats. Brats don’t know what they’re doing,”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re a brat, and if you want what I’ve got, you need to listen to me. You have pretty big ears, so I’m sure you can listen well,”

She rolls her eyes “I’ll play nice, okay,”

He leans down to look her in the eye “You won’t just play nice, you’ll be nice,”

She takes a huge breath “Okay,”

Vox smiles smugly “Have a good night,” he pats her head and walks off.

Voe feels breath on her neck and turns to see Vinny behind her

“I think I still have to watch you,”

“Fuck off Vinny!” she storms out of the broadcast area.

[phoenixriley]

「PERFECT FOR US」 한주민

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3 | MASTERLIST 

➤ Word Count: 2,158

➤ Pairing: Jumin Han x reader

➤ Tags: canon continuation, established relationship, f!reader, fluff, spoilers for Jumin’s good ending + route in general, probably ooc 707, protective Zen (😂)

"Move over! Mr. Han is leaving." One of Jumin's personal security guards hollered, pushing reporters out of the way as Jumin neared the edge of the stage.

Although Jumin's big exposé was over, the reporters' cameras continued to flash, capturing every movement the businessman made. At that moment it was like Jumin was one of the many rockstars she had seen on TV. The mob of reports desperately pushing and shoving one another for another picture of Jumin on stage. Jumin didn't seem fazed though. A calm and collected expression plastered across his features as he neared the edge of the stage that overlooked the party hall.

"I've given you the story you want, so now I will step down from the stage and go see Y/N," Jumin announced, slipping the black microphone back onto the stand with the smallest of smiles on his lips. "Enjoy the party, everyone."

"...What did I just hear?" Jaehee gasped next to her.

Her golden brown eyes widened, an uncharacteristic look of panic painting Jumin's assistant's features.

"If I heard right..." V began, leaning over slightly towards Jaehee and Y/N so they could hear him over the crowd. However, his words were cut short by the crowd despite the closer proximity.

Almost as quickly as the look of panic crossed Jaehee's features it was replaced with one of exasperation. With her free hand, Jaehee tiredly rubbed her temples, sighing.

"Did he really have to say where he's going in the middle of this chaos..."

V wearily smiled. Unlike Jaehee, V's expression remained neutral. Whether from expecting such things from his long-time friend or merely not bothered by the chaos, neither Y/N nor Jaehee knew.

"Follow Jumin Han! Right now!" One of the reports exclaimed among the sea of reporters.

"Mr. Han is on his way. Give him some space!" Another one of Jumin's security guards hollered, pushing the crowd to the sides as Jumin followed closely behind.

The sea of reporters that Jumin invited continued to go rabid. Pointing out Sarah, Glam Choi, and Y/N before concluding his public statements to the media, over half of the room was set on getting some sort of comment from the three women along with Jumin and Chairman Han. Pushing and shoving, yelling, whatever they needed to do, the reporters were doing it.

Across from where Y/N stood, Yoosung yelled something she couldn't catch, but soon Seven joined Yoosung at his side. Then the other RFA members lined up around her, creating a human barricade from the reporters. Zen, who was a little ways away from everyone else in RFA, was trying to draw attention to him to lessen the crowd pushing toward her. Jaehee and V stood directly in front of her, attempting to speak to her as they did so, but their words failed to reach her.

Nervously, her fingers played with the ruffles that ran along the lower half of the dress Jumin gifted her for the party. The lights, the hollering, the pushing, it was all so sudden and too much. Unlike Jumin or even Sarah, she was just an average girl up until several minutes ago. Hell, she wasn't even a part of the group of people that she now called her friends up until roughly two weeks ago. She was just living an average life not too long ago and now here she was.

The pounding of her heart echoed in her ears as the reporters shouted her name. Her legs subconsciously carried her backward as they continued to push toward her. When the cool wall pressed against her back, her eyes widened.

She was backed into a corner. Literally.

“Jumin…” She whimpered quietly.

What on Earth was he planning now? He managed to get rid of Sarah and Glam Choi, so he longer was tied to them privately or publicly. Why did he need the reporters to follow his movement now? Why did he draw attention to her? Why did–

“You wore the dress I gave you,” Jumin’s voice cut through the noise as he approached the RFA members, a soft smile on his lips as his gaze focused on her while everyone stepped aside for him. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come see you as soon as I came.”

Jaehee stepped forward slightly, peering over Jumin’s shoulder as she spoke.

“Mr. Han… you’re not going to do anything right now, are you?” Jaehee asked uneasily, eyeing the raven-haired male and then the reporters.

Jumin didn’t respond. His gaze for a moment lingered on her figure before panning to each and every member of the RFA, seemingly ignoring the presence of the reporters. He hummed in what could only be described as satisfactory when his gaze fell on the final RFA member, noting that they were all there.

"Everyone, thank you so much for everything." Jumin began, meeting everyone’s gazes before they fell onto her once more.

His eyes softened as they met hers. His dark gray orbs shined happily, starkly contrasting how they looked days prior.

"Y/N, I missed you." He continued, his voice gentler now that it was directed at her. "You waited long, right? I'm sorry about all the fuss."

"It's okay," Y/N softly smiled, fingers releasing the ruffles from her dress.

"I hope you realize how much you need to be appreciated and loved." Her brows furrowed, once more Jumin’s actions and words not quite making sense that night. "There's a whole audience out there for you now..."

Carefully, Jumin's gloved hand took her left hand, his grip gentle like he was holding the most fragile of glass. The room erupted into loud whispers and gasps, the sound of camera shutters was almost deafening as the flashes were blinding. Every angle of the two was lit up in some fashion as Jumin kneeled down before her, bringing her dainty hand to his lips, pressing his soft lips to her knuckles.

His eyes closed as his lips lingered there for a moment. His demeanor was the calmest and most assured she had seen since before the two had finally met in person. While all eye's in the room were on them, the flashes and various sounds did nothing to waver Jumin’s resolve as his eyes opened once more and met her own.

“Y/N, you’ve opened a new chapter in my life.” Jumin began, his voice was loud enough for her to hear and some of those around them. “I love you so much. And I want you to always be with me forever.”

The room grew silent as Jumin spoke, everyone on the edges of their metaphoric seats, waiting to hear what the illustrious Jumin Han would say next.

“Will you let me...to be your life companion? My love.”

She didn’t know it was possible, but the flashes and sounds of cameras grew harsher. Each and everyone one of Jumin’s invited ‘guests’ was desperate to get the newsworthy photo the second it occurred. Everyone surrounding the two waited with bated breath for their news headline.

Overwhelmed with all the surge of emotion now pumping through, hot tears formed at the corners of her eyes. The good, the bad, and everything in between from the last couple of weeks and that night coming forward. The one thing all her emotions had in common was him.

She was dragged into their world unexpectedly all thanks to some hacker. However, that same hacker brought her to the same people who have made her nothing but happy since allowing her into their inner circle, allowing her to meet the love of her life. They had talked every day for the last couple of weeks, and despite the life-threatening circumstances, they were some of the best couple of weeks ever thanks to him.

Jumin is unconventional in many ways, but he is also reliable because of it. He is strict, but also caring. He is passionate and dedicated. Their time together may have been short but it was nearly impossible to see her life like it was before he came into the picture anymore.

“...Yes.” She managed out, just barely keeping back her tears.

The crowd erupted, whether, in cheers or dissatisfied moans, she didn’t know and didn’t care. Regardless, their loud reactions faded out as her lips connected with the C&R heir as her shaky knees gave out beneath her, closing the distance between the two. Jumin’s arms wrapped around her body with ease, catching her and lowering her to the ground without breaking away from her lips.

“Thank you,” Jumin murmured against her lips, pressing another peck to her lips. “You’ve made me so happy.”

She couldn’t help but giggle against his lips. The last thing she expected coming into the party that evening was for there to be a big exposé, a sea of reporters, and least of all to be proposed to. Yet there she was. Jumin’s arms wrapped securely around her waist, his lips eagerly chasing after hers as reporters surrounded them, forgetting momentarily about Sarah and Glam Choi.

Eventually, Y/N was pulled back to the reality of their situation as Jumin’s warm touch completely left her. However, it wasn’t for long though because after exchanging words with one of his guards, Jumin’s arm slipped around her waist. Gently pulling her in the direction of one of the backrooms, Jumin slipped into what she could only call work mode as he and his bodyguards pushed past the reporters.

Soon enough, the two made it to their desired destination and Jumin’s grip on her waist loosened. His arm completely left her body when the RFA members managed to make their way through the door, tired and exasperated looks painted across their features. Zen was the first one of the group to recover, and of course, he made a beeline directly toward the couple.

“Y/N!” Zen exclaimed, worry painted across his face. “You know you can say no, right? You don’t have to do whatever he wants.”

Yoosung, who also recovered surprisingly quickly, was close behind Zen.

“You said yes because you wanted to, right Y/N?” Yoosung added.

“O-Of course!”

Seven, much to either her pleasure or displeasure, was the next to recover and join the ever growing group. Happily, he slung his arm around lazily around Yoosung and smiled.

“You guys should congratulate the happy couple!”

“You just think this is your chance to get your grubby hands on Elizabeth.” Jumin deadpanned.

“You’ll let me watch her on your honeymoon, right?” Seven smiled innocently.

“No.”

“Y/N!” Seven whined, turning to her with the biggest puppy dog eyes she had ever seen.

“I don’t think I can help you,” Y/N nervously sweated.

While Elizabeth was no longer Jumin’s emotional crutch, realizing that she was indeed just a cat, Jumin kept the mindset of only certain people should be allowed to keep her. A certain hacker did not meet the standards he held before and most definitely still didn’t. He was only willing to give her to V after all.

“You’re sure you want to marry a guy like this, Y/N?” Zen frowned, changing the subject back. “You haven’t even known each other that long. He could be a bad guy for all you know…”

“It’s true that they haven’t known each other for too long.” Jaehee thought out loud, as she and V joined the group.

“How long has it been?” V asked, trying to recall how long it's been.

“Ten days since she infiltrated RFA and three days since they met in person.” Seven answered matter-of-factly.

“Why can you just recall that without missing a beat?” Y/N nervously asked.

“Isn’t that too little time to decide to marry someone!?” Zen cried, pulling her attention back to the actor.

“Time is relative,” Jumin replied simply for her.

While Zen’s concern wasn’t wrong, neither was Jumin. For most people, the pace Jumin and herself were moving at was way too quick. However, Jumin wasn’t just anyone and she wasn’t either nowadays. During the short period of time they’ve spent together she managed to not only fall in love with him but get a glimpse into what life with the C&R heir would be like. He came across too strong at times but he has shown to be capable of learning and adapting among other things. She had no desire to go back to life like it was before and making a new life with Jumin was very appealing to her. So why not?

“For others maybe…” She said, after thinking about what Zen said. “But I think the decisions we’ve made for our situation is perfect for us.”

While she was focused on Zen, she didn’t miss the way Jumin’s lip twitched upward at her words. Silently, Jumin’s hand reached out and took her hand into his, intertwining their fingers together.

“...How can I argue with that.” Zen sighed tiredly.

[wifebread]

Obsessed | Pt.12

Pairing: Stalker!Min Yoongi x Original female character

Tags: Forced relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulations, Mentions of cruelty, Mentions of deaths, Mentions of drugs, Murders, Original female character,  Out of character, Stalking, Unhealthy relationships, Violence.

Summary: She wasn't afraid of this man, didn't take threats seriously, blaming everything on the fact that it was just to attract attention. However, she did’t know what he was capable of.

word count: 1313

I do not condone the actions described in the story, this is all fiction and does not relate to the real members of the BTS in any way. If you are uncomfortable with tags, please do not read!! Or read at your own risk.

a/n: Thanks to the wonderful author who allowed me to translate this work! Please keep in mind that English is not my native language, so if you notice any mistakes, point them out to me! I can also edit the chapter after I publish it, so don't be surprised if you see some strange moments (it means I haven't corrected them yet). Thank you.

source: https://ficbook.net/readfic/12255891

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 ,Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

Weired tea

It's 6 o'clock in the morning. The rays of the sun creep into the bedroom, announcing the beginning of a new day. The darkness does not allow to properly see what is happening on the street. The weather is fine, not a single cloud. Yoongi’s mood should be on top, and not only because of the weather. But obviously not today.

For some, 6 a.m. is early morning. People sleep, basking in their warm and soft beds. However, for Yoongi this is the usual time of ascent.

Taehyung knows this very well, that's why he rushed so early.

“It's only 6 in the morning, and you've already arrived. Tell me what happened.” sitting up on the bed, said Yoongi.

“You know that we always check unfamiliar numbers and almost immediately dog the address”  to which Yoongi nodded. “This time it didn't work out.”

Yoongi tensed. He neither understood what his friend was driving at, nor really wanted to plug in. There flashed one thought that now Taehyung would share something important that was related to Percy.

“This video was sent to me tonight,” V turned on the smartphone and opened the chat. “Perhaps you know this place?”  the guy asked nervously.

Handing the smartphone to Yoongi, Taehyung sat down on a chair, clenched his hands into fists and anxiously bit his lip. Chaos was going on in the guy's soul, everything seemed out of place. The content of the video scared the hell out of him, but what will happen when Yoongi watches it?

The video showed Percy being tied up and beaten so that she could barely speak. Images of him smashing the whole room, the vases, lamps and mugs popped up in Suga's head. However, outwardly he was only tense.

“Tell me what you want!” kicking the girl in the stomach, the unknown guy exclaimed.

“Yoongi, take me away from here...” the girl whispered faintly.

“Say it properly!” taking Percy by the hair, the unknown exclaimed again.

“Help... me.”

“There you go”

After this conversation the video continued, and the faces of those who started hitting Percy's body were clearly visible.

For a couple of minutes, Yoongi stared blankly at the screen, which had turned off a moment ago.

“I think they'll put conditions on you if we don't find her ourselves.”  Taehyung began cautiously, twisting his fingers.

“This motherfucker has gone to the edge,” Yoongi concluded his thought aloud, clutching the phone harder in his hands, almost breaking it.

“Do you know the place?”

“I guess yes.”

***

The day before

Namjoon and Percy spent every day together. The guy took her to various beautiful places, bought treats, rubbed himself into trust, courted.

“Do you want to go into the city with me tonight? There’s a new film, very interesting, by the way.  Namjoon said in one breath.

“Haven't been there for ages,” Percy began dreamily. “But there are too many acquaintances in the city and they’ll see us together, so ...” there was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Don't worry about it,” the guy broke the silence. “This cinema is special, ordinary mortals are not allowed there.”

“Bragging again,” Percy replied, smiling and rolling her eyes.

“I'm not bragging I'm just inviting you to the cinema.”

“I'll think about it,” the girl nodded.

***

Percy didn't even realize then that Namjoon's plans were not just courting or going to the cinema, no.

When the film ended, they went home to Song, because she invited her friend for a cup of tea.

The couple did not drive in silence. They were violently discussing what they noticed in the process of viewing. And if Percy was completely engrossed in the conversation, Namjoon almost didn't listen to what she was saying and just admired her.

Perhaps at this moment he wanted to abandon his plan and not put it into action.

The girl seemed to him quite attractive, intelligent and funny. The guy didn't understand at what point his plan almost went to hell and why all of a sudden he began to look at Percy as a girl he likes.

However, putting aside his thoughts and returning his gaze to the road, Namjoon tensed.

“Is something wrong?”  Percy asked worriedly.

“What? The guy turned his head at Percy. “Oh, no, it's all right, I was just thinking.”

"Will you come in for tea?"

“How can I refuse?”  Namjoon chuckled.

They arrived at grandmother's house quickly, because Namjoon drove like he was late for something. There was no one at home. Apparently, Mrs. Song went to her neighbors or friends.

“I always drink green,” Percy began, putting her mug of tea on the table. “Do you like black tea with sugar? she asked, walking back to the drawers.

“Yes, two spoons, please.” Namjoon replied without taking his eyes off the girl who was pouring tea and adding sugar.

The guy carefully took a bag of some kind of powder out of his jeans pocket, opened it and poured into Percy's mug.

Namjoon was worried that there would be problems with his trick. For example, a girl will not go somewhere or will often turn to a guest. However, everything went well for Namjoon.

“Will you stir it yourself?” handing the guy a spoon and a mug of tea, Percy asked.

“Of course, thank you. Drink it, don't look at me.”

The girl nodded, then took the mug in her hands and drank a little. Namjoon watched Song's actions closely as he stirred the sugar.

***

Mrs. Song couldn't sleep a wink. She just had no right to do it. She was given an ironclad promise to return her granddaughter by ten, however, it is now well past midnight, and there has been no granddaughter so far. Mrs. Song had a heart out of place, she considered herself guilty of letting a teenager go with some little-known grandson of her friend, and in fact he seemed to her a gentleman. The elderly woman did not know what she could do in this situation. The local provincial police would not have rushed to look for this child right away, because, as she thought, it was already too late, and it was unlikely that the office was working in full force.

The woman was as tremendously wrong as Namjoon's connections in the police were, the amount of money he poured into every person in that seedy village police station. He is literally the leader of the mafia, since his power extends to the territory of this town and to a couple of nearby ones.

Still, what can the old lady do now? The only thing she could do was to go in search of her granddaughter alone. In reality, it was pointless, since Namjoon immediately warned that they would go to the city, which was located next to their suburb, because only there were all the places of leisure - restaurants and the only cinema in the whole city. She had to weigh the pros and cons and reluctantly accept that Percy could just linger.

The woman was already starting to come up with how she would scold these children, and then she would become the best grandmother again when she allowed her something more, like spending the night with a guy.

But still, she decided to call Namjoon and ask where they were and if they would be back soon to calm herself down.

“Hello, Mrs. Song. The session was already over, we dropped by the restaurant. You won't believe it, I met my friend and he invited Percy and me as a couple to celebrate this case. I'm sorry, but I have to steal your granddaughter until tomorrow evening.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman babbled happily. She was pleased to hear that Percy and Namjoon were considered a couple. “But don't forget to return her tomorrow, no later than 10.”

“Okay, goodbye.”

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 2: I Know That You Feel Like A Piece Of You’s Dead Inside

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Barista!Reader (she/her)

Summary: Your day goes a little less ideal when someone very dear to you messages you after breaking off conversation for a while, and it triggers memories you swallowed for a long time. That evening, Michael stands in front of your door like you agreed on, but he's not okay and he needs to channel his emotions into something else - into you. You just hope you can find a way to talk like adults sometime, but you and he are eerily similar when it comes to hiding your past away from prying eyes and pity.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of child abuse, parental trauma, mentions of death and violence, SMUT, choking, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v, praise kink, Michael Kinsella Begging, hurt/comfort (18+ MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 5.3k

A/n: Don't be like Mikey, find healthy coping mechanisms! This is written mostly from Reader's POV. This is about you and your day. The next chapter is going to be about what happened during Michael's day that ultimately lead him to the decision he makes in the end. So it'll be his POV next. Also, can you tell how I make my chapter titles?

You wouldn’t consider your past particularly dark. You don’t want to say it was traumatic because when you look at Oliver, who lost years of his life in prison for a mistake he made when he was a teenager, or Michael, who struggled to accept himself and other things he has yet to tell you about; he lost his wife, he went through hell, he went to prison and he has to live with the weight of the blood on his hands for crimes he committed in the same of his family. He lost custody of his daughter and he struggles to get it back. Whatever else he’s hiding, it must be equally as traumatic if not worse. It changed a lot inside of him, you can tell. It would be weird if it hadn’t, to be honest.

Trauma changes people. 

You don’t want to know about the nightmares, how the pictures of his wife’s death haunt him. What he experienced in prison must be haunting him just the same. But there is something else about him, something he isn’t telling you. 

Your thoughts switch to his daughter. He didn’t say if she was present when the shooting happened. If she was, the poor girl must be traumatized too. How old must she be? They said in the papers that she was just a young girl then, so maybe she is a teenager now, or on her way to becoming one, anyway.

She’s staying with her grandma, and the woman is surely not thrilled that Michael is out of prison, nor would she be thrilled that he is fighting to get custody of his daughter again. It must be so confusing for Anna – that is if she even knows that her father is back – and for Michael as well because he doesn’t know how likely it is that he’d get her back. He knows the chances are slim, but he doesn’t know how slim, and then there is the fear that Anna might not even want to see him. 

He’s troubled and he is lucky that you came around or he would have collapsed under the weight on his shoulders. 

So no, you wouldn’t say you’re traumatized because compared to him, you got lucky. 

Your dad isn’t a drug mule, he just never liked you that much. Over time, you grew used to getting disappointed, so you started trying as hard as you could to make the people in your life stick around. You wanted him to be proud of you.

But you didn’t grow up in a crime family and you never learned how to hurt someone the way Michael did. You can live with your father not liking you; you got used to it. What bugs you though is that after choosing to chase your dream of becoming a writer, you lost what little you had left of the family members who liked you – and now you doubt that you’re making them proud anymore. 

The thoughts didn’t come up without reason. You’re on your lunch break, checking your phone when a message pops up.

A while ago, before you moved all the way across the ocean (and by all the way you mean just a little, considering Ireland is right next to England), you gave your sister, who had just freshly turned twelve, your number. You wanted to keep the lines open if she ever needed anything.

She’s sixteen now, a teenager.

Your sister has always clung to you in one way or another. Even as a baby, when you used to babysit her, you had a certain connection. You were the person she could always count on. The more it hurt you and her when you chose to leave.

The lack of support from your family brought back memories and you had to remove yourself from the narrative to find yourself and learn how to be happy for once in your life because the life you were living back then only made you feel worse. 

The message pops up and you frown. She hasn’t texted you in a while, and part of you figured she might not want to be in contact with you anymore, which made you a little miserable, so you are surprised when her name shows up on the screen.

It is a simple ‘hey’, but it triggers all kinds of alarms in your head. 

You choose to answer the same thing. 

She’s a mystery, that one, because she reads your message, but doesn’t answer. Something in your gut tells you that something isn’t right. You hesitate with pressing the call button. Maybe she accidentally texted you and doesn’t want to hear from you. Maybe you surprised her with your reply because you, as well, didn’t put effort into maintaining the connection. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Sarah. “Hey, we have a whole bunch of tourists coming in,” she says. “Can ya cut your lunch break short? Oliver and I could use the help.”

You purse your lips before turning off your phone. “Sure,” you say because saying no is not something you are physically capable of. 

She taps the door frame. “Thanks, darling.”

You would call your sister later, you tell yourself. Or maybe she will text you back and you can talk about whatever her dubious text message meant without dancing around it. You just hope she isn’t in any imminent danger or you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself. 

The workday drags on. It is Sarah’s turn to close up, so you get to go home early. When you drive down the street that leads to your apartment, you pass the gas station that you have learned to avoid; it has a large tendency to get robbed – and now, after learning about Michael, you’re sure it’s just a front for illegal activities.

As you approach, traffic slows down and you find yourself staring at the bright blue lights of several police cars. There is an ambulance, but no one is moving. It’s then you catch a glimpse of the coroner’s car. 

Shit. 

As far as you know, in the past robberies, people only got hurt, not killed. And now someone is dead. You see them rolling the gurney with the body bag out onto the street and into the car. 

Your blood runs cold. 

You want to assure yourself that it’s fine, that it’s none of your business, and that Michael’s family has nothing to do with it, but there is a slight possibility that the Kinsellas could be responsible, and you hate the thought of that. 

The police coordinate traffic and lead you down a different street. It adds a few extra kilometers, but you don’t mind. You just want to get home. 

There are no parking spaces reserved for the residents, which sucks because that means you have to park on the side of the street and sometimes, the only spaces left are a very long way away from your apartment. You still take the five-minute walks; you have no other choice. 

Although when you walk from the starting point of the street to the end where your apartment complex is, your heart starts beating faster. What if you’re being followed? You’re paranoid, you know that, but your optimism goes out the window when you think about the fact that a literal murder has taken place not far from your home and that perhaps, the situation is more dire than you first thought. And you’re not talking about Michael this time. 

He doesn’t once cross your mind as you walk faster, your keys clutched tightly between your fingers. It’s not just the fear of a psychopath roaming the streets (you’re not even sure what happened), it’s the fear of being taken and stripped of your dignity in other ways, and that’s just something you, as a woman, have gotten used to. Still, it makes you shiver when you think about it. 

There is a deadbolt at your door, which had always felt very American to you before and unnecessary, but today, as you step through the door, you shut your door and put the deadbolt in place, locking your front door twice before you even think about taking a breath. 

What did you get yourself into? And what is wrong with you that you now suspect evil in everything that surrounds you? You’re really not sure if it’s because of your sister, the gas station, or Michael. You fear it’s all three and it makes you wonder if Sarah was right with what she said. 

"Promise me that if you smell even the slightest whiff of danger, ya'll walk away?”

You promised her, but you can’t walk away. You can’t run. You’re not even sure if you want to. You like him, you’re curious about where your relationship could go, and he is trying to be better. For his daughter, maybe even for you.

He’s a good guy. He made mistakes, but he told you he wasn’t responsible for his wife’s death and the people he hurt before were sacrifices he made for his family. He hates himself, but you don’t, and the fact you’re so easily falling for him makes this so much harder to think about. But you do. 

The question irks you, is the danger worth it? Are you ready for what’s to come? Do you want to face it? Or do you want to live in denial? 

Man, this sucks. 

But you don’t want to leave, so you’re not going to. You can’t, not even if your life depended on it. You are hopelessly devoted to Michael Kinsella, and the inner conflict the knowledge about his past elicits in you is scary as hell, scarier than falling in love with a man who desperately needs it.

You’re not sure what to say when you call your sister and the line clicks. She whispers a simple, “Hey,” but she sounds so vulnerable now. 

You have a cup of hazelnut coffee in front of you – on ice because you feel that better fits your mood; cold and dead inside – but it doesn’t soothe the act in your chest like it usually does. 

“Hey,” you answer. “It’s been a while… how are you?”

There’s a beat of silence. You imagine her shrugging. “I’m alright,” she lies. You know it’s a lie. 

“Maya, what happened?”

“Dad–”

“Did he hurt you?” Sadly, this is the first thing that comes to mind when you think about him. 

It shouldn’t have to be like that.

She’s quick to reply, “No! No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t–” she says, but cuts herself off. 

He hasn’t hurt her, he never has, but he hurt you, and saying that he wouldn’t isn’t the full truth. He would, just not with her. He loves her.

At first, that made you jealous, feral even, but you are several years apart and she’s just a kid. You’re almost like another parent to her, not just her sister. That’s the curse of being the oldest child, but you took the responsibility the moment she was born and you try to do right by her, always.

Well, you’ve been failing at that lately, and you ignored the nagging feeling in your chest that told you that you were being just as awful as your parents – no, your father.

You didn’t want to be neglectful, but navigating your life isn’t easy, and part of you still lives in denial about everything. You avoid conflict, so you avoid your family. It’s only natural. In your case, at least.

“I snuck out a couple of days ago,” Maya admits quietly. “I didn’t climb out of the window or anything. I told Mom and Dad that I was going to hang out with a friend. But they figured out I lied.”

You know what that’s like. You tried to be the perfect daughter in the past, especially after the first time your father lost it when you went to a party instead of studying. But there is more to it, you can hear it in her voice. 

“I lied and Dad– He put this spyware on my phone–”

“Oh boy,” you mutter under your breath. 

“He told me he wouldn’t pay for this field trip my class has planned and he took my phone for a couple of days,” she says. “But I managed to find it so I could call you. I needed to call you.” Her voice cracks and you can hear she’s starting to cry. Her soft sniffles fill your ears and poison your heart. 

“I’m so sorry,” is all you can say to that. 

That’s why she called; you’re the only one who understands. 

“I didn’t know who else to turn to. I feel so violated…”

“I know what that’s like.”

“I just… I feel so alone. They don’t understand and I–” she breaks off with a sob. “I’m sorry I haven’t called or texted, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

You call her name softly, stopping her right there. “You could never bother me,” you say. 

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Your job and everything, I just thought… never mind.”

“Don’t worry about that. I just wish I could help you.”

The distance makes it hard to comfort her, even though you want nothing more than that. 

“It’s okay, I guess I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

I miss you. It breaks her heart to hear her so hopeless. You want to hug her, pull her out of this hole, but you can’t. She needs you and you can’t be there. You’ve been so busy trying to be happy that you abandoned the one person in your family who cares about you, and who needs you more than anything because you understand what it’s like to have him as a father. It’s vile that you’re here and she’s over there, the distance too wide and the world too big. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, “I miss you too.”

“Thank you. For answering my text and calling back, I mean,” she says. 

“Always.” You pause before making a decision. “Listen, I have some money saved,” you tell her. “It’s not a lot, but if you tell me how much your field trip costs, I can send you the money so you can go.”

You can hear her shake her head against the phone. “I can’t accept that.”

“Yes, you can. You’re my sister. I’ll live.”

Truth is, you’re barely making ends meet, your rent being higher than ever after the latest raise and you need your saving, but she is your sister. You might need to pick up a few extra shifts and do overtime; you can get your money back like that. 

“Thank you,” she sniffles. 

“You’re welcome.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say before bidding your goodbyes. “Call me if you need anything else.”

“I will,” Maya says. 

“Good.”

One of these days, you will buy her a plane ticket and take her in because you can’t let her stay where she is now. She doesn’t deserve it. 

There is a knock on your door. You forgot to text Michael that you were off early, so you don’t exactly expect to see him when you open the door. You were wrong. He’s standing there, his hair disheveled as if he’d run his hands through it a million times. He’s carrying a small back and a scowl on his face. 

This can’t be good. 

How you’ve become the address for everyone who needs emotional support, you’re not sure, maybe it’s your helpful nature that draws emotionally damaged people in, but as soon as you see his face, you stop thinking about what you need and focus solely on him. 

It doesn’t matter much now, anyway. 

“Hey,” you say softly. 

He looks up at you with his puppy dog eyes. Looking at him you could easily compare him to a puppy who has been kicked to the curb and left there. When his eyes fall upon your face, something switches in him. His bag drops to the floor just at the entrance and he pushes you into the apartment with full force. 

You gasp when he slams the door shut, pushing you up against the wall, and then his lips find yours in a passionate embrace. 

You push against him. “Mikey,” you breathe against his lips, “What’s wrong?”

This doesn’t feel right. His eagerness to kiss you, to have you. You shouldn’t indulge him, but God, he is such a good kisser, and his hands… They wander over your body and you swear you’re on fire. 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “I need ya, pet.”

And the tone of his voice says now. 

“You’re not yourself,” you try to argue, but your body betrays you. 

He pauses, his eyes finally meeting yours, and they seem almost black. “I know,” his voice is raspy, and the heat of the moment dissipates when he leans his forehead against yours. 

You bury your hands in the hair on the nape of his neck, closing your eyes. You don’t quite understand what he needs because he doesn’t talk, he simply stays like this with you for a moment. 

“I need ta forget,” he whispers then. 

Your eyes soften. “Forget what?” you ask. 

“I’m gonna tell ya later, but I need you. I need ya so bad, love. Please.”

He doesn’t touch you though, not without your permission, and that says a lot about the kind of man he is. 

“This is a bad idea. You shouldn’t use sex as a coping mechanism. I–”

“Say you don’t want it and I’ll stop. Right now. But I’m beggin’ ya. Please.”

He begs. Shit. 

His hand cups your cheek. “Please,” he begs again. 

You go weak in the knees. He sounds so wracked already. You can feel him against your inner thigh as he presses his leg between yours, keeping you pinned to the wall with all his might. He’s incredibly strong. 

“I’m–” 

You need him. It’s a voice in your head that screams, and your body yearns for his touch. His hands are still on your hips, and it reminds you of the night you first slept together. He’s good at what he does. And you need him just as badly as he wants you right now. 

“Okay,” you cave. 

“Okay?” he asks to clarify. 

“Yes.”

He exhales. “Thank you.” 

He turns into a needy mess as he bunches your dress up around your waist and gets on his knees before you. Oh, that sight… It’s almost enough to make you come. You’re dripping at this point. It only takes a single touch from him and you can’t help it, your body reacts instantly. 

Michael grabs your thigh, placing it over his shoulder before he simply pulls your underwear aside – he doesn’t waste time taking them off, he doesn’t have the patience for that and to be quite frank, neither do you. 

You throw your head back into the wall when the tip of his tongue circles around your clit. 

“Jesus,” he moans against your slick cunt, “Yer fuckin’ drippin’.”

Just a few seconds ago, he was begging to touch you and now you are the one whining at his words, begging him to give you what you need. 

His tongue flattens over your folds and you moan softly. 

The way he buries his head between your legs looks almost graceful from your point of view. He looks like he is praying, almost, your cunt the altar he worships at. It is wrong to think that way, sinful even and you know you’re going to hell for thinking about God in that context, but you’ve never been the religious kind anyway. 

His moans reverberate. He parts your folds just to dip his tongue into your hole. You clench around him and he moans even more. It vibrates and sends shockwaves through your entire body. The pleasure he gives you is overwhelming and yet you need more. And he does so without asking. 

His tongue grows rapid with its ministrations. He licks at your entrance before moving back to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. He memorized the motions that drive you crazy. It’s muscle memory. 

You reach down to tangle your hand in his hair. Moans tumble from your lips like a symphony. “Mikey,” his name is only a whisper on your lips. 

He lifts his head and looks up at you. “What?”

“You’re too good to me.”

He shudders at the subtle praise. “Let me make ya come, yeah?” And then he turns the tables with a simple comment, “You deserve it.”

“Oh, God–”

He dives back in, and he licks at your pussy with new vigor. He’s desperate, playing with your nerves like you’re a piano and he knows all the keys. Your moans and whimpers are the melodies, and they sound oh-so-sweet. You don’t care anymore about being vocal, and he seems to enjoy it. 

“Good girl,” he growls. “So fuckin’ good–”

Your moan echoes through the apartment. “Mikey, please!”

“Yeah, that’s it. Yer so close, aren’t you?”

“So fuckin’s close,” you answer breathlessly. 

You’re almost there. He drives you higher and higher and higher and–

With a loud cry of his name, your muscles contract, and the orgasm shatters your entire world. It’s intense; your toes curl and you almost lose balance. He holds you up, but you’re shaking like a leaf. Your thigh that’s on his shoulders tries to somehow connect with your other leg to trap him against your cunt, his tongue still relentless in eating up everything you give him. 

Eventually, you push him away. “Too much,” you say. 

He presses an almost tender kiss to the inside of your thigh before setting it back down. You quiver. Michael catches you with his arms around your waist. “You okay?” he asks. 

You nod, holding onto him. 

“Such a good girl.”

You meet his lips halfway, tasting yourself on his lips. 

“I–” He cradles your cheek, but the words he planned to say die before he can utter them. 

Your needy hands struggle with getting his belt open. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothin’.” He helps you get the buckle open and pulls it out of his jeans before his lips are on yours again. 

Michael encourages you to jump into his arms, and he lifts you almost effortlessly. 

“Is this comfortable?” he asks.

Your heart swells. He doesn’t act like he’s about to fuck you against the wall; he’s caring, and you can’t help but get flustered. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, “Just fuck me.”

He would never hesitate to comply with your request. You help him get his cock out of his pants. The position is a bit complicated, but you manage to wrap your hand around his shaft and line him up with your entrance. He sinks you down on him and you drop your head into the crook of his neck. “Fuck,” you moan. He feels too good to be true. 

“Such a fuckin’ good girl,” he says as he starts thrusting up into you, “Take my cock.”

You cling to him as he sets a ruthless pace. It’s no less passionate than the first time, but his cock drives into you harder now. He hits that spot inside of you just right every time, and you can’t help but cry out in ecstasy. His lips part and he lets out a soft grunt. 

He sounds so sweet when he moans. The sound alone makes you clench around his cock, causing him to twitch and change his angle to hit even deeper, and you completely lose it. 

The sounds you let out are lewd, his name tumbling from your lips over and over again like a mantra. The feeling of him inside of you is now etched into your brain. You can’t live without it. You got a taste and now you’re addicted, and you get your fill every time he touches you. 

His hand finds its way around your throat, not choking but simply holding you there. Your hand wraps around his wrist in return. You know exactly what you need. 

“Choke me,” you say. 

He lifts his head only momentarily. “What?” he stutters. 

“Choke me.”

“Ya want me to choke ya, pet?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck!” He feels your pulse jump under his fingers when he finally squeezes, cutting off your air supply and pushing you straight to the precipice. 

“You like that, huh?” He groans into your neck. “Ya like bein’ fucked like this? Chokin’ you, feelin’ my cock in your needy little cunt?”

Who would have thought that his mouth could get any dirtier? 

Your pussy grips him like a vice and the moan you let out resembles a gurgled scream. The wall feels harsh against your back, sweat dripping down your body and making the dress you’re wearing stick to your body. 

Michael sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. The kiss is sloppy; you wouldn’t call it a kiss but rather a desperate fight of lips and tongue, and you clash in the middle. 

You can feel the knot in your stomach tighten. It spreads through your cunt, making you light-headed, and the finish line comes closer and closer and closer–

“Fuck, Mikey, I–” You clench around him once again. “I’m gonna come.”

His fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he lifts you a little higher, allowing your clit to bump against his lower abdomen with every rigorous thrust and you can’t hold it back anymore. 

You come undone around his cock, and your heart jumps out of your chest. 

He grunts, biting down on your shoulder. He’s close too, you can feel it in the way he’s holding onto you, and his cock twitches inside of you. 

He moans your name when he comes, and it’s certainly something else to hear him say it like that, so beside himself and lost in pleasure. 

“God,” he groans. 

You couldn’t have said it better. 

“Fuck,” you return. 

“Pet, what are you doin’ to me?”

You’re not sure what he means by that. 

“I’m fuckin’ addicted to ya.”

Oh. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. 

“No, don’t apologize. I just need to have ya, always, all the fuckin’ time.”

Michael gently sets you down. His cum trickles down your thighs. It’s a feeling of belonging to him that consumes you. 

“You have me,” your voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah,” he smiles, “I do.”

You brush a loose strand of hair out of his face. “You wanna talk now?”

He shakes his head. You expected that. But then he opens his mouth anyway and his question catches you off guard. “Can I stay here?” he asks. “Just for a few days, I– I can’t stand bein’ at home. Alone. My head… it just won’t fuckin’ stop thinkin’.”

But it does with you.

“Will you tell me what happened?” you ask, your eyes holding an incredulous look.

“I– It’s not tha’ easy. I can’t just tell ya tha’.”

“You can try to explain it to me.”

“I get why ya don’t trust me in your home, but–”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, I– I trust you, a lot, actually, but I’m… Yeah, I don’t know what I am.” 

You pull away from him. He doesn’t like to admit it, but Michael is scared. Scared of losing you, scared of scaring you away; he doesn’t want to be someone you’re scared of, but you seem so damn uneasy. 

He reaches out to grab your hand. You let him. With your back turned to him, you try to keep the tears at bay.

It’s too much, you realize, always caring for everyone but yourself, but letting him stay… it is less about him than it is about you. You’re weary. It’s not because of his past – you’re overwhelmed by the feelings you’re having, the changes in your life, and what it means for you. 

You’re scared, but not of him. But how do you tell him that without giving yourself away? It’s stupid, but you have gotten used to keeping things to yourself.

You are the sunshine, the light in everyone’s lives and he needs that version of you, not the one that often gets overrun by darkness. You can’t help him when you’re like that, and you want to help him, you have to, you need to, it’s a natural response at this point. For that, you can’t let it get to you. 

Though the truth and the anxiety that grips you remind you of the past. Perhaps that is the biggest reason you find yourself scared. But you’re not even sure anymore. You’re not sure of anything except that Michael belongs here; he belongs with you, in your arms because that is where he is safest. 

You’re scared of losing him, too. The way he talked about his family and the past… You don’t want him getting dragged into it again, let alone lose him to a stupid mistake, maybe the bullets from a gun– You can’t allow yourself to think like that. Today has been a lot, but it’s not his fault. 

You can’t lose another person you care about. 

“Ya don’t have ta let me stay,” he says quietly. “I could check into a hotel for a night or two ta get away.”

With a soft shake of your head, you turn back around. “Can you be honest with me?” you ask him instead. 

“Can you?” His brown eyes bore into yours. 

You want to tell him that it’s not that easy, and that’s when you realize that it’s the same thing he said and you are no better than him when it comes to keeping your feelings to yourself. 

Your voice breaks the tense silence, “Stay.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “You mean it? I don’t wanna impose on your privacy if that’s wha’ ya need. I’m not that kind of person. I’ll live.”

How are you so alike and yet so different at the same time?

“Just stay,” you whisper, “with me. Here. For as long as you need to. It’s just… this is all new to me too, even if I don’t seem like it most of the time. I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t trust you. It wasn’t fair. Of course, I trust you, but there are things… I don’t usually share my space with anyone.”

He gets that.

“But I haven’t been fair this morning, and I am sorry for that. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you don’t have to prove yourself to me. This is on me.”

It’s as good as it gets. You don’t know what else to tell him. 

Michael takes a step toward you. His hands find your face and he strokes his thumbs over your cheekbones. Your close your eyes, leaning into the touch. 

He pulls you even closer, his breath hitting your forehead as his lips hover above it. He sighs, or maybe he’s smelling you, you’re not sure, but you can tell he’s fighting an internal battle that he hides behind a cage he doesn’t have the key for. The feelings. memories and thoughts come in, but nothing manages to come out. It’s tricky. You know what it feels like. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” his voice cradles your fragile heart. “Yer too good fer me, love. Far too good.”

He leans down to press the softest kiss to your forehead. 

Just minutes ago, you were fucking wildly against the wall, and now? Now he’s kissing your forehead and looking at you like you are the most precious thing he has ever seen, and the pain you felt before dissipates.

Your hands move to his biceps, resting there, stroking them through the fabric of his shirt. His muscles are tense, but his eyes are closed and as he holds you, he looks a little less like the kicked puppy who knocked on your door before shamelessly taking you in the only way he needed you then. 

You sniffle. You don’t want to cry. “Let’s take a shower,” you say. 

He wipes the stray tear from your cheek and nods. “Yeah, sounds grand.”

“And then you can stay.”

“Okay.” The light in his eyes tells you that he is grateful, and you are determined to keep that little flicker of hope alive.

And you truly mean it when you say it; you don’t mind having him around. It’s not just the pleasure. You are drawn to him even more than before. 

But you are playing a dangerous game. There is a reason parents tell their children not to play with fire; they’re going to get burned. 

Tagging: @bellaxgiornata @shouldbestudying41 @your-not-invisible-to-me @glowstick-lesbian @ms-murdockswift @acharliecoxedfan @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattmurdocksscars @roseallisonparker @1988-fiend @norestfortheshelbywicked