#and 'I used to see a cute girl and stalk her' (not in those words but that's how I look back on them) from bio dad before he vanished

[nichuuu]

Scatterbrain

Word count: 18k+

They say it takes a village to raise a child. 

To raise a girl as fine as Jang Wonyoung, you’d probably need 3 whole villages.

Two of those three villages would be used to train the way she walks because it’s perfect: classy, poised, elegant. The other one would have to work on her outfits because god would she need those. Hopefully the village doesn’t operate a Shein style manufacturing line. She’d hate that.

Her face is the definition of “striking the gene pool lottery”, and so is the rest of her body. Lanky arms and legs; toned, slim tummy; big, bright eyes that glimmer under the flashing lights. Personally, you like her “you’re on camera” smile the most. She knows this, and she always makes it a point to shoot it your way as she struts towards you. She stops half way to get a flute of Champagne, make that two actually, then grabs another. Those long legs can cover one hell of a distance, and they bring her right to you in a matter of seconds.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” she hands you the Champagne flute in her left hand, and the rings on it shine in the light, “cause it’s starting to feel like you’re just stalking me now.”

Of course, it’s the snarky remarks that open the conversation. Jang Wonyoung, airheaded as ever m’lady, and you sip on the Bubbly that she’s very nicely delivered to you. Wonyoung is, of course, a little bit of an airhead in your books (only because she believes that you’re always there for her, nothing else), and it’s never not hilarious to watch her draw her lips into a thin line. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this from you; it certainly won’t be the last. You can’t control where you’re posted to, but you know for a fact that you’ll see her again a couple months down the road.

Cause your meetings with Jang Wonyoung are through pure serendipity really, and you certainly will start calling it that after you read that one story. You know: the one where this guy cheats on his idol girlfriend, who he has a tense relationship with, with another idol that he happens to meet just about everywhere. There’s 0 communication between the two of you when these types of events come around, and neither of you know if either of you will be there or not. Actually, it’s just you really; neither of you know if you will be there. 

“Here for Kwon Eunbi again? Or are you finding someone else?” This question of her’s is customary at this point. Never once has it been perfunctory.

“Well, I was actually here to try and catch an interview with Jo Yuri, but I guess you’ll do,” you reply. Wonyoung scoffs—so I’m second place then?—and you have to assuage her oh-so-damaged ego, “you’re making this inference on your own Princess. I never said anything remotely close to that.”

And it’s that smile on her face that makes you want to kiss her really. It’s gorgeous, it’s cute, it’s beautiful. She’s given you that damned smile so many times that you could probably draw it from memory, though you’d definitely butcher it. The dress is certainly doing it justice, and you watch it brush against the skin of her legs as she shifts her weight to the other foot. I’ve never been that good at inferences. You’re far better than me, Prince, and she’s playing with her hair: twirling and untwirling it around her finger. That ribbon atop her head… Her stylist certainly knows their stuff.

“Think I’ll win an award this year?” Her question draws you away from your thorough examination of her. You take a moment to think, and you have to say, it depends, but I think you could definitely get something in some category. She gives you this inscrutable look, and she’s chuckling to herself as she looks at the crowd and sips on her champagne. You can guess what she’s about to say next: quite the crowd today, huh? And you’d reply, “Don’t think that they’re all here for you”, and that would prompt her to shoot back with, “Then who are they here for? You?”. 

But of course, when do things ever go according to plan?

“Have you thought about my offer?” she asks, and you’re caught off guard. 

Cause here’s the history between you two: Middle school best friends, always kind of inseparable. She was the beauty queen, it girl, and she still is; you were the writer, head of the school magazine, and you’re pretty much writing for the rest of your life. Wherever you went with her, rumours followed—Are they dating? I think they’re just friends. Maybe she’s trying to be the front of the magazine?—but you never thought much of it. It was just a simple friendship to you, nothing more. 

Then the kiss she gave you in high school changed it all.

It was a party, hosted by one of your mutual friends. She kissed you, and no, it wasn’t a Spin The Bottle forfeit, nor was it a dare of any sort; it was a sincere, tender kiss in the garden—unprompted, and away from any prying eyes and soft like silk chiffon. You have to admit, the sensation had your brain mired for a minute or so. But when you came back to your senses, you kissed her right back, and things got complicated after that. 

No one knew of it; it was your little secret. Wonyoung became closer than ever, and next thing you know, she declares the two of you “exclusive” but not dating. It’s because her agency has that funky dating ban thing, and Wonyoung was desperate to find a loophole, albeit a little complex. Of course, you’re willing to stay “exclusive” with Wonyoung in secret, but you started to worry that it can’t stay this way for long after the two of you get out of high school. 

But as fate would have it, your career paths meet at the crossroads, and now you see her every other month or so. You still text her when you can, and the “exclusive” relationship has sustained. Now that she’s an adult and she’s bringing in mad bucks for the agency, she’s informed you of some changes in her contact. From there, the offer was birthed, and you have left it unchecked for the past four months or so, “grey ticked” as she liked to call it.

“You haven’t texted in a while, thought you died,” she continues, leaning on her elbows against the table. “Thank god you’re alive, huh?”

You hoped that she’d just forget about it, but she’s more of a mnemonist than you give her credit for. An award show is the last place you expected to be caught off guard by Jang Wonyoung, but she’s definitely a master of surprise. I uh… I haven’t really thought about it, is a lie you tell her and yourself. She smiles enigmatically, downs the rest of her Champagne. 

“Let’s talk about it tonight,” she touches your chest, and it’s soft like silk chiffon, “you know where to find me, Prince.”

She struts off to join the rest of her members, stops halfway to return her Champagne flute, then looks back at you over her shoulder to give you a small wave. You sip on your Champagne as the silk brushes against her skin. 

It’s a heavy breath that leaves your mouth, and it’s the rest of the Champagne that goes in.

*

302.

Gold lettering, black plaque. It’s grand, pretty elegant. Suits her well. 

Then the door opens. 

In her bathrobe, Jang Wonyoung shoots her “you’re on camera” smile. You’re earlier than expected—she lets you in—Matter of fact, I thought you might not show at all.

And it’s a must to quip back, “thought you’d be asleep by now you big baby.”

When the door closes, it’s straight to work, and here’s how that normally goes: kissing, undressing, foreplay, then finally—fucking. Not that it has to follow that order or anything, but it’s the unspoken schedule that Wonyoung’s written up. God forbid anyone goes against what the princess is comfortable with, not that you’d ever try to either way. Your voice is barely a mumble past her lips—aren’t we supposed to talk about something?—and Wonyoung’s quick to dismiss any queries, “later. There’s always time for it later”. 

So it’s the kiss that’s pulling you back into her. Her front teeth capture your bottom lip, pull, drags it back a little like she’s trying to unwrap you like a present. You hold her waist, and with gentle hands, you push her back against the wall. It’s not that you’re trying to get control or anything; you’re just attempting to give her something to work with, a place to rest as she starts to work on the buttons of your shirt. 

“Are you already naked underneath that?” you whisper, though it’s more of a drawl than a whisper. In response, she momentarily stops with your buttons to slide a section of her bathrobe away, giving you a good look at a column of her naked, milky skin. 

In short: Yes, she is very much naked under that robe.

“Don’t get distracted, my prince. Eyes up here.”

“You’re the one that made me look, princess.”

She’s evidently struggling with the last button of your shirt, and you have to let go of her for a moment to help her get it done. Then it’s off with the shirt, and she flings it against the door for convenience sake. Your belt’s next, and that’s taken care of before you can even say, let me undress you Princess. It does make her hesitate at the clasp of your trousers for a bit. Just for a bit.

“I’d like,” her fingers are moving again, and they’re awfully quick at unfastening your pants, “for you to unwrap me on the bed instead.”

How raunchy of her. Makes you want to try her on.

Your pants fall. Your hand slithers into the bathrobe. Her jaw drops. Wonyoung my darling, and your fingers have captured one of those perky breasts, the right one to be exact. How do you ever—it’s light pressure to the nipple for you; it’s mind melting for her—get away with being such a big slut? Look at you, I’m barely even squeezing here. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes wide, mouth agape and her chin tucked into her neck. Frame it up, take a step back, admire it. It’s the face of someone who’s pent up, the expression of a needy girl who’s been aching to get some dick. Maybe if you guys had met a little sooner, she wouldn’t be this sensitive. But now? A twist of your forefinger and thumb is all it takes to draw a cry out of her, a little more pressure is enough to rain hellfire upon her. What a crazy-hot mess she is; only god knows how to clean her up and get her sorted out.

Open mouth straight to your ear, Wonyoung lets out a breathy gasp. In your fingers, the stiff peak rolls between the pads—back, forth, back, forth: motions that make her weak in her knees. It’s with great effort that she pulls your face back to hers, captures you in her quivering lips. Elegance has long been thrown out the window by now, and it’s not going to be returning for quite some time, as if you ever need it at a time like this. She’s barely holding herself up at this point. Where did the prim proper Jang Wonyoung go? 

The answer’s in her kiss—gone, dusted, she was here just a minute ago though. She’s grasping at whatever inch of your skin she can find, and her nails are definitely gonna be leaving marks on the sides of your neck. You let out a small, wry laugh as you silently observe her behaviour, watching her implore without speaking, badger without requesting. It’s an art form really, the form of expression for the horny and desperate and bratty. When her hands grip your face and her nails sink into your cheek, you pinch a little harder and relish the pleasant vibrations that are sent into your mouth as she gasps. Her palms press into your jaw, and they’d probably crush it if you press any harder. Her feet patter against the wood as she starts to direct you to the bed. You kick off your shoes together with your pants. 

It’s definitely a sight to take in: Jang Wonyoung in a massive king size bed, a thin bathrobe being the only thing between you and that wonderful body being the bathrobe. Maybe if she wasn’t in this state she’s in, she’d gesture to you with a come hither motion, and invite you to remove the fabric from her body. Instead, she opts for a spine tingling mewl, and that’s your invitation to her body. It’s hardly an insinuation; the fact that she wants to be unwrapped like a present is undeniable, she used the word unwrap herself. The bunny knot holding the two pieces of fabric is symmetrical—has Wonyoung’s fingerprints all over it. If it weren’t for the fact that she’s watching you with a half-open mouth, maybe you’d compliment her on her efforts a little, maybe even call her “princess” a couple more times before you properly ruin her.

(But she’s already ruined, ruined by a mere bit of pressure to the nipple. What else can make her tick now?)

Her body is at your mercy and it, quite literally, jerks as you start to pull at the knot, undoing it centimetre by centimetre, millimetre by millimetre, inch by inch. You want to see how long she can watch for, how long she can witness herself be undressed in a painfully slow fashion. Needy as she is, she’s patient as she watches one end of the rope grow longer. 

Longer. 

“Do you want me to speed this up, baby?” The smirk on your face would earn you a pout from her if her nerves weren’t in a bundle at the given moment.

“W-Whatever you want,” she answers, and her voice is brimming with breathy arousal. How are you getting away with all this? She’d grab your wrist and pull by now if she wasn’t so damn needy right now.

You give a dry laugh. “Then I’ll keep at this then.”

Longer.

“Fuck. Just pull it all the way already.” She looks you right in the eye as she begs you to hurry, and now you can see the need brimming in those large, round eyes, the ones that stare back at you with soft intensity, if that’s even possible. She’s good at mixing emotions into her stare.

“I thought you said—”

“Just fucking do it!”

Slack.

And the knot comes undone, and together with it, the robe falls off to the sides of her body—it’s beautiful. Never have you taken so much pleasure in undressing her, but you sure-as-hell have taken this much time to admire that wonderful, slender frame. From your standing view over her, you get down to her level to get a better look at her. It’s all part of the game of course: the way you look her in the eye, the way you touch her jaw ever so slightly to turn it towards you. The kiss is sickly sweet, and she’s starting to taste more and more like that cherry lipstick you gave her when you saw her some time ago at another event. Into your mouth, she lets out a sonorous moan. Your fingertips brush along her skin, slither down from her collarbone to her cleavage—down to that flushed pink region between her equally flushed thighs. Almost instantly, the tip of your digits are coated in slick fluids, and you raise an eyebrow at the girl on the bed.

“I literally touched you.” It’s amusement permeating your voice more than anything. In the sheets, she squirms in the slightest, eyes locked on your fingers that rest against that dripping heat and breath caught in her throat. You know that if you were to shift your finger in the slightest, you’d trigger a chain reaction that you have no power over. Her legs would clamp, her abdomen would tense, her eyes would roll. In the midst of it all, she’d maybe scream, or maybe she’d moan; either way goes. As far as you’re concerned, she’s needy as fuck at the moment, and she’s not going to let anything stop her from cumming.

“Yea, well… I can be sensitive.” Her defence is hardly a solid one, more of a perfunctory reply. Her head’s far from able to formulate a quip to throw back at you; that ability went out the window together with classy Wonyoung. “Put them in.”

You go against her request, and your fingers start to skirt the edges of that swollen, pink slit of hers. A crime—you’re going against the princess’ wishes, but realistically speaking: she can hardly be called a princess at the moment, so why comply? 

A portion of the bathrobe is still clinging on to her breast. You use your other hand to push it away, and the split second of contact makes her flinch. “Jesus. You’re so fucking turned-on right now,” you can’t help but muse, all while your fingers retrace te outline of her swollen lips. She’s shivering, she isn’t breathing quite right. “Do you want to moan, baby? Do you want to moan like a good little slut for me?”

And she fixes you with a glare. “F-Fuck you… Put them in.”

No “please” this time. Shame. If she were more polite, you would’ve obliged; now you’ll just have some more fun with her. 

Your thumb finds the swollen nub, and a little brush is all you need to get her straining like a psycho in a straitjacket. What will I ever do with you Wonyoung?—and she’s getting wetter by the second—You look so pretty when you’re so needy, you know that?—why would you ever, for a second, think that she’d be as refined as the last time? She doesn’t play with herself when she needs to get off; she waits till she sees you again to get off on your cock, your fingers, your mouth. Sexting was off the table, she wants you to be physically there, driving her insane as she lets herself come undone. 

“You know,” and you’re almost laughing as you watch her face twist even further, “that I could do this forever right? I could just lie here, tease you for as long as I want… Or maybe that’s what you want?

She’s messy, so fucking messy. Juices are starting to soak the bed—you can feel it as your fingertips round the bottom of her slit. Housekeeping would certainly question the spot, and the two of you wouldn’t be there to reply anyway. Her cheeks are flushed, the veins of her throat are popping. It takes a considerable amount of effort to stay this composed, but you know that she’s breaking more and more. With each round your fingers make, cracks start to form along that perfectly sculpted face. The fine lines on her forehead begin to show as her brows start to furrow. Strained sounds are coming from her throat as the urge to moan is slowly winning the battle against her will. She wants control, but she can’t have it when she’s a wet, hot mess next to you. She’s being bratty for the sake of it. Your fingers are your leverage against her. It’s killing her. It’s delighting you.

And just like fine China thrown against concrete, her will shatters. 

“Please! Put them in!”

And your fingers stop just at the top of her pussy. It feels like a long minute, but she isn't about to take another second of this. Her thighs clamp against your arm. Her fingers wrap around your wrist in desperation. She begs again. And again. And again. And again, again, again. The bed starts to creak as you start to move your fingers down her lips, down to the very end of her cunt.

God is she dripping.

“Will you moan for me?” you drawl huskily. A finger, two, three rest themselves against her heat. 

“Yes.” There’s barely any of her original self left in there. “Please just—”

The fingers breach her opening. She screams, a high-pitched, keening cry. The noise makes your cock strain in your boxers, and you have to grit your teeth as her inner walls wrap tightly around your intruding digits. A moment of stillness comes, a moment where she’s just breathing raggedly, struggling to process this pleasure that’s racking her body faster than she can comprehend. She’s a ticking time bomb of nerves; the slightest movement in this state could send her into perdition, and she’ll barrel past that point of no return faster than both of you can imagine. God, she’s sensitive. God, she’s a mess. 

The chuckle that departs from your mouth is one of perverse pleasure. “Baby,” you whisper, right into her ear as she struggles to catch her breath. She squeezes her eyes shut, and you watch with a grin as her chest rises and falls. The grip on your wrist is a vice, knuckle-white and unrelenting. She’s begging you, with her eyes, to start moving, and you have to tell her, “I can’t start till you let go of me, baby.”

And it’s with reluctance that she slips her hand off your wrist, but that hand won’t stay empty for long. You guide it to her own breast, and with a soft whisper, you tell her to squeeze. She’s servile. She complies without protest. Her eyes slowly open themselves, and you relish the way they’re lust-glazed appearance looks under warm light while her breaths level themselves out. For a moment, there’s calm. For a moment, it’s tender.

Then your fingers start to move. All hell breaks loose.

Everything she did to calm herself quickly becomes futile; it becomes undone as her back arches in a way that catches your breath in your throat. Your fingers graze her walls, pressed into each other as they slowly draw in and out of her. And mind you: you’re going slow, slow enough to make her feel every bit of your fingers brush against her insides. But it’s enough to make her curse, enough to get her mewling like a damn kitten while her hips start to rock, rubbing her clit against the base of your palm. There’s no way to describe how needy she looks; her want is beyond words, and you’ve barely even started. Three fingers is the most you’ve ever put inside her. Clearly, it’s working wonders for her.

And now you yourself have to admit: you’ve wanted her for some time now. Since the last time you saw her, you’ve fantasised about that slim tummy twitching, about holding that snatched waist once more, about those long legs wrapped around your neck while your tongue and fingers turn her into a pliant plaything. For weeks, you’ve wanted nothing more than pulling Jang Wonyoung apart, reduce her into a withering mess wherever you guys are and get her screaming till she’s sore. You can’t even begin to describe what you’ve done with her in your dreams, nor can you ever convey how it feels to desire her as much as you have. So, you put all of it into action, sordid sentiments channelled into your fingers that are making those cute features twist and contort in perverse pleasure. She’s rambunctious, and her juices are quite literally soaking your hand, spilling the strongest sillage of lust all over the bed. 

“Why do you always have to be so fucking messy?” You’re really just trying to see how much you can get away with at this point, though the answer seems to be: just about everything. Your fingers start moving faster. You love the way her cheeks are starting to flush even more. “Are you always this wet? Or is it just for me?”

The squelching is lewder than you can ever imagine. The sound of her slick, wet heat being breached by your fingers is enthralling. Add the sounds she’s making into that and you have the ultimate erotica audio that can bless mankind. She’s panting, she’s moaning, she’s whining—she’s doing it all really, and you’re just using your fingers. God knows how she’ll react once you’re inside of her, rock hard meat stretching her out instead of a few fingers fiddling around in warm walls. 

But hey, the sounds she’s making are ever so erotic, and she’s definitely making your blood flow to all the right places. She feels out of place; you can’t put your finger on what’s wrong in this whole thing. It’s probably a small detail, something you’d overlook over the sight of her chest heaving as air shoots out and gets sucked back into her mouth, her whole body straining and convulsing against the bed while you get a thumb on her clit and rub at a languid tempo. Probably something miniscule, not worth mentioning because all your attention is focused on the look on her face (you want to mess up the makeup so badly it’s almost frustrating). And no, you’re not trying to make her cum in five seconds; she’s just really riled up—bundle of nerves and trigger happy. Probably hasn’t been treated this way in a while, probably hasn’t had three fingers twisting around, sliding in and out of that tight wet hole slow enough to make her feel every bit of skin against her walls; fast enough to make her combust if you were to speed up, in, like, forever. 

“I–I…” She’s quite literally mewling, and the sharpness in her voice is so cutting that it makes an incision in a bag inside you that’s keeping all the perverse thoughts at bay. The thoughts are leaking out now, and it’s almost impossible to stuff them back in. You want her against the glass: tits against the window and ass in your hands while you pump and pump and pump into that slick tight hole; you want nothing more but to pick her up and have her lock her legs around you, tight frame flushed against you while you nail her against one of these walls that surround you; you want to unhinge that jaw and watch that pretty mouth—now parted to let the stream of moans flow—take your cock in and out between those kiss-swollen lips and watch the drool leak out the corners of her mouth. Shit. It’s killing you. Jang Wonyoung, dolled up. She’s killing you. 

(No way in hell are thighs meant to be this hot, and lips are not  supposed to look this delicious. Yet Jang Wonyoung somehow goes against every fucking norm, fights it naturally and effortlessly and wins like a seasoned warrior. So just for her case: her thighs can be this hot and flushed, and her lips can look this fucking appetising. You kiss her; it’s sloppy, it’s lewd, it’s hot and everything in between. Mark her neck, mark that row of skin above her right collarbone, mark her everywhere. Cusses are flying—god forbid her agency finds out about the things hse says while she’s getting fingered. She's making a mess out of herself. She’s making a mess out of you.

Fingers, just fingers and she’s already looking like this: hair fanned out, frazzled, looking like she just went through a car wash and yet somehow has her make-up intact. Fuck. You want to watch the mascara run, watch it streak while she tears up as she’s choking down cum and she’s struggling to take in air. Pretty little princess, messy and glacially being turned into some improper slut. It’s hard to not smirk while you ruin her with the same fingers you use to type articles about her—fingers that sing praises and can also make her moan enough to make her throat hoarse.)

The rhythm of your hand makes her body roll. Her toes–painted over, fresh manicure—curl into the sheets. Doe-like eyes stare back at you, plump red lips part to gasp your name, throat muscles strain trying to  curse and moan at the same time. The fingers are gliding in and out and in and out and she’s begging you to not stop (like hell you ever would) in those choke up little sobs while she’s—

Oh fuck baby I can’t I can’t I can’t — Anything. I’ll do anything. Please just let me cum. I’m so fucking close baby. Please just let me fucking cum. I’ll be a good girl. I-I promise I’ll be a good fucking girl for you just… Fuck!

—blue screening on your fingers: lost in the sauce or whatever. Pliant plaything, docile doll. You’re certain she hasn’t gotten off in at least a month if the way she’s taking it is any sort of yardstick. She’s far beyond drenched, far beyond salvation and way off the deep end of the “needy” pool—drowning herself in her own sea of sighs and gasps and moans and loose phonics that slip out of her mouth. Ostinato of your fingers squelching in her cunt; half time rhythm of the creaky bed; melody of the chorus of Jang Wonyoung’s voice—music to your ears.

And there’s lots to unpack from the moment you locate that soft spot at the top of her pussy. There’s a lot of cussing, a lot of jolting, a fair amount of whining and your name is thrown somewhere in that mix. You find her lips, she kisses back, one of her hands grabs your arm, nails dig in and stay there. Flurry of actions, filthy language—fucking hell, someone stop her.

Bottom line: lots of action. You find it congenial to start from the part where it quite literally ends her world. Once your digits curled up into that sensitive patch of flesh, it was all over for her.

You can pinpoint the exact moment where the orgasm rips through her body, the exact moment where her muscles seized so perfectly that her back arches. The pulse around your fingers is strong, walls tight around your digits and your thumb gently rubbing on her clit while the pleasure rolls through her body, molten iron libido converting the feeling between her thighs to electricity that makes her short circuit. The moan is breathy if anyone’s asking, and the look on her face—twisted, perverse satisfaction: superimposing need and want—has a whole foot over the line of pornographic. Wires are fraying in her head, her vocal cords are strained, she’s ruining the sheets with her juices; you’re complicit in every damn part of this, and guilt is the last thing on your mind.

Then her back falls back flat against the mattress, and the sheets ripple as her body makes a dense thump against the bed, punctuating the sigh she releases into the air. Nerves are unbundling themselves. She’s sweaty and panting. Your fingers are beyond soaked.

“Messy,” you muse, slowly drawing your juice slicked fingers out of her cunt. You bring them to her mouth. She languidly tastes herself, sweat-darkened sheets hugging the muscles of her shoulders and lining her ribs. She looks so tiny in the bed if you looked over the fact that her legs were dangling over the edge of the mattress, and that’s easy to do once you lean in for a kiss.

(It’s not hard to slip your tongue into her mouth, and there’s barely any fight left in her as you roll her nipple between your index finger and thumb. The sweat-matted hair sticking to her forehead adds a nice touch to her face.)

“Such a good girl.” Your tone is warm as you praise her, and a hand moves to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness. Her eyelids flutter shut. She puts the weight of her face into your palm. 

“Do I get my reward now?” she whispers, and it’s more of a plea than a question really. You take a moment, not to think, but to drag out the suspense for a little more before you give her an answer. You take guilty pleasure in knowing that you could keep her on tenterhooks for the whole night—the only thing stopping you is the throbbing of your cock in your boxers and the look of sheer need on her face. If you could: you’d drag this out a little longer, maybe tease her a little and call her more names. You still could do that, but you’d much rather fuck her instead. 

“Where do you want it?” your thumbs hook into the waistband of your boxers and hook them down. Your cock springs free from its cottons confines, and Wonyoung’s eyes instantly dart to it. She may be a little obsessed with your cock, but only a little when she’s depraved (which is right now). Before you can even react, she has your shaft in her hand, lanky fingers wrapped around it and pumping it with considerate strokes. 

“I want a big load in my ass.” she requests, far from innocent and banking more towards improper, which seems to be a pretty big theme of hers tonight. “I’ve been wanting to feel daddy’s  hot load leaking out of my ass for a long time…” The strokes delivered to your length grow firmer and firmer by the second. “Please?”

The spikes of pleasure her small hand delivers to your system is really making it hard to say no at the given moment. Of course, she’s well aware of it, and she’s definitely feeling so damn smug right now. And so with a very clouded mind, you nod. She smiles smugly, unaware that you’re about to fuck that smug little smirk rig of her pretty face. Conveniently, she’s already on her back—it’ll make the process so much easier. 

“I take it that the lube is in your bag?” You raise. She grins and nods. 

Sure enough, you find it in the exact same place as it usually is: side pocket, right next to her lipstick. You toss it towards her and move around her, slip her ankles over her shoulders. She lies still, unmoving and obedient as her left calf goes past her head, then her right. You lean forward, and she gasps as she's almost bent her completely in half. She’s flexible; this position won’t bring any harm to her, but it is congenial to ruin her asshole and leave her sore for the next day or so, which is exactly what she wants, but probably not how she imagined herself getting it. She cracks open the lube, and with precision, squirts a generous amount of it on the tight ring of her ass, making eye contact with you all the while as the clear liquid gathers at the puckered ring of muscle. The tube is discarded to a side when she’s done, and she uses her hands to spread her asscheeks for you, inviting you to take your liberties with her hole.

“Come on Daddy,” she urges you. “Come fuck this ass,” she continues, her hands spreading her ass cheeks even wider as you start to line yourself up with the tight ring. “Wreck this fucking hole Daddy, I can fucking take it.”

To hear her say those words was almost enough to have you cum right there and then. You press the tip of your cock at the open, gaping hole of her ass, swirling it around the entrance, collecting more of the copious amounts of lube around it. She was generous with the amount of lube she dispensed; you're about to be generous with the strokes you're gonna make inside that ass.

(She yelps when you slide inside her ass. God does it feel so fucking divine.)

She is so tight and wet and hot that you think you could’ve cum with your first thrust inside her. Her pussy was tight and hot, but her ass was even tighter and even hotter. Even though your cock was slick with lube, it did close to nothing to keep the sheer tightness of her asshole from clenching around you like it was a really small glove. It wasn’t the first time you’ve been inside her ass, but it sure as hell felt like a novelty every single time you entered that tight ring of muscle. Fuck. The heat, the tightness—sublime. You think you could cum in a matter of seconds if you didn’t have self control.

“Go!’ she hisses, through the pain and discomfort. “Fuck me. Fuck my ass!”

You would have been happy to stay there, buried balls deep in Wonyoung’s ass, but her own words goad you into moving—slowly at first, but with a steadily increasing pace, you begin to fuck Wonyoung’s ass with long, slow strokes. She hisses—part glee, part discomfort—as your shaft starts to pump itself in and out of her ass. You draw yourself out till only the base of you tip remains inside of her, and then you thrust back in, hard, hard enough to make her yelp out in pained pleasure while she grits her teeth and watches your rock hard shaft fill her ass. It's a perverse show for her, and it brings you a sort of dark satisfaction in knowing that past all that discomfort she’s feeling, she loves the way your cock stretches her out and fills her defenceless little hole. 

With her ankles over your shoulders, you’re practically spearing yourself vertically into her ass, fucking her deep and making her feel every inch of your throbbing meat inside of that hot, tight hole. Every penetration is punctuated by a deep, guttural groan from Wonyoung, sometimes a curse, or something along the lines of: fuck. So fucking full. You know for a fact that the pained sounds you hear now will turn into airy gaps of pleasure once she gets used to the discomfort, and that she’d probably be a mewling mess by the time you reach the stage where she can take you in and out of her ass with only pleasure in her system and no pain. For now, you’ll settle with the pace you have—slow, long strokes in and out of her ass while she squeezes her eyes to block out all sensations distracting her from enjoying the sensation of her ass being filled with cock. You have to admit that she’s doing a great job at it, and your praise vocalises itself in the rather harsh form of, “what a good little slut.” 

(And here’s something interesting you noted: never once in this whole thing did she ask you to stop, nor did you ever think about stopping to let her adjust. If this was anyone else, you would have given them a moment to breathe upon entering, and you certainly would be checking on their wellbeing throughout it all. 

Thing is—the two of you know her too well to know that you could only dream of stopping once you got started with her, and it could only end in two ways. 1) You cum in her. 2) You cum on her. Edge her and you’ll never get the end of it, you would know. The last time you pulled a stunt on her like that, she left you tied to a chair with a vibrator taped to your cock till you were begging and a cummy mess. It wasn’t pretty. She could dominate if she wanted to, but she preferred to be a manipulative brat instead.)

It’s not long before she’s desensitised to the pain, and your slow pace is not enough, no, not for Wonyoung. Next thing you know it, she hissing for you to go faster, fuck her harder—I told you to fuck my ass Daddy. Don’t hold back on me now—and deeper. She swears, all three languages that she knew strung together shabbily like they were put together on some shitty production line and thrown out at random—and while you made little sense of the sounds coming out of her filthy mouth you knew what they meant.

Harder. Faster. Rougher.

Then you fuck her ass. Hard and fast.

You almost surprised yourself with the liberties you were taking, drilling in and out of her butt with the same speed and depth that you would use with her mouth and pussy.

“Yes!” she shouts—a loud, full shout. “Yes! Fuck me like this! Pound me, fuck me until you cum in my slutty little ass!”

You grunt in reply, because it was all you could do. The faculties of human language have long since abandoned your grasp and ability, and nothing else exists in your mind except the thought of filling her tight, hothole with warm, white semen. Her eyes lock with yours and you only find that they’re full of need, nothing else (not like she’s capable of displaying any other emotion at the moment). The rest of you, every fibre of your being, was focused on pounding Wonyoung’s tight little hole as hard and fast as you possibly could. Her ankles bounce helplessly behind your head, her knees press into her shoulders and her breath is ragged; sweat drips off your forehead and onto her tits, and your hot breath mixes with hers as you struggle to keep yourself propped up with your arms.

In short: the two of you are sweaty and messy (one more so than the other. Take a pick, not sure if there’s a prize for guessing right), victims of lust and slaves to pleasure. You blame Wonyoung just because you can.

For a few delicious moments, there is absolutely nothing in the world aside from the tight hot sheath of flesh around your cock, the warm flesh of her legs against your shoulders and the strands of sweat-slick hair that fly just about everywhere, all topped with the lewd, filthy, obscene words spilling from Wonyoung’s mouth. For a few delicious moments, she feels nothing but the feeling of her tight hole being stretched and used by the cock that turns her face into a wrought outlet of pleasure while she lets filthy words and exclamations spill from her lips. 

Try as you might, you couldn’t have it last forever. Not when you were already so turned on from watching her writhe and twitch under your fingers. Not when the sheer, pure pleasure overwhelming you was more than enough to cause you to cum at any moment.

And when she orgasms for the second time, her ass tightening exponentially around you—there is little you or anyone else could have done to stop the inevitable.

“I’m gonna cum in your ass, Wonyoung,” you hiss through gritted teeth, your lust and pleasure-addled brain on the edge of losing all comprehension.

“Cum with me! Fill me!” 

And so you do it, burying yourself hilt deep inside the quivering woman’s asshole before filling it with the last of your cum, giving her every last drop you had left in your body, leaving rope after rope inside her sore, well-used, cum-filled asshole. You almost black out, and you quite literally have to dig your nails into the sheets while Wonyoung’s own orgasm takes over her body, making her twitch and her ass contract—milking every last bit of cum from your throbbing, twitching length till it was nothing but a dry, hard rod inside of her creamy asshole. 

There’s silence that is punctuated by both of your ragged breaths. She looks at you, you look at her. And the two of you can’t help but chuckle at the mess you’ve made of each other. You want to remember the way her nose wrinkles as she teases you, “you fucking animal”, and you want, so badly, to burn the image of a sweaty, weary Jang Wonyoung, folded in half beneath you like she was a piece of origami paper, panting and gasping as a fresh load of cum spills out of her ass. 

It takes energy, but you bend down and kiss her, letting her sweaty calves slide off your equally sweaty shoulders as you do. She’s satisfied, for now, and she pulls you down next to her on the hotel bed with one hand and gathers the cum leaking out of her ass with the other. 

“Look at this,” she whispers, and your eyes train themselves on the pearlescent, sticky, slimy, fluids that run down from her fingertips slowly. “You made such a big mess inside my ass,” she chides before bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking your cum right off her fingers like it’s a delicacy. “Now I have to clean all of this up. You’re lucky I like the way your cum tastes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Um… Ew?”

Wonyoung smirks and gently nudges you with her left foot.

“It’s okay,” she tells you, all smug and everything. “I know you love the way I taste too.”

* In the dark, her small hand creeps around your torso and grasps yours. 

“You’re awake, aren’t you?” She’s whispering right into your ear, and it’s a sensation you want to be able to hold on to for the rest of your life. “I know your eyes are open.” The feel of her small fingers rolling the knuckle of your index finger sticks itself in your head like a post-it. “ I can hear and feel you tossing, you know?”

Okay. No dodging. 

The sheets stay still as your shoulders turn. You roll over, face her, and you really just want to capture the way the night lights paint her face: doe-like eyes reflecting glimmering pools of moonlight, warm yellow light painting her cute-yet-so-fucking-gorgeous face in a manner that not even Van Goh could copy, lips parted slightly as if in mid speak. She’s right there—you can kiss her if you really want to.

“Are you still mad at me?” She asks, tender with her tone. “I know that I fucked up, okay?” You can tell that she’s not even trying to look pitiful at the moment, but the way her face is sculpted really makes you want to just hold her to your chest and stroke her hair. Sincere are her words—heart heaved into her mouth. “I don’t blame you if you’re still mad. It’s your right. But… Just hear me out? Please?”

If you were mad, you wouldn’t have let her hold your hand the way she was now. If you were mad, you would’ve pretended to be fast asleep; ignore her pleas and just close your eyes and fall asleep. Alas, you can never stay mad at her for too long.

“I was… Never really angry, Wony.” Your tone is a lot softer than you would ever expect, but you know it’s because you probably needed this talk more than she did. “I... I’m sorry if it came across that way.”

And she studies you for a moment, lets the sound of your breathing fill the space as she furls her upper lip into her front teeth, and it’s a perfect moment for you to try and understand what’s happening in her head. She’s a complex creature really; understanding her is like finding a meaning that everyone can agree on when you look at abstract art.

Down below, you can still hear the cars moving through the street. Billboards and screens are still on, and from the window in your bedroom, multi-coloured lights filter into the room past the blinds like moonlight through bamboo leaves. The sheets you lie in are fresh, and they feel nice and smooth against your skin, and they smell like roses. The mattress creaks a little as Wonyoung shifts her weight, and you have to admit that you’re half-drunk on the scent of her shampoo. 

“You must have been scared,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I got really emotional. I… I shouldn’t have walked out. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that. Not now at least. Maybe it’ll come to you the next morning.

You give her a sweet smile. You hug her to your chest. You want to remember how she feels in your arms.

*

The gentle trickle of water down the arch of her spine is really something—a steady stream flowing down her back, running over the muscles of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts and fraying at her plump ass. You can’t remember the last time you showered with her, but you certainly remember the view being this good. 

In the shower of room 302, Jang Wonyoung lets the warm water hit her skin from the rain shower nozzle. Her hair—wet and freshly shampooed (and conditioned)—sticks to her back. Creamy skin glistens, small beads of water affix themselves to random parts of her body, stay there for one or two seconds, then roll down in streaks, almost as if they too were admiring Wonyoung’s well-sculpted figure.

Slim fingers grasp locks of hair. She lifts and looks over her shoulder, the whisper of a grin on her face as she shoots a beckoning wink. “Are you gonna help me soap my back? Or are you just gonna keep staring at my ass?”

“Don’t you have to, like, turn off the water first?” you ask, and you already know what she’s gonna say, but you just want to hear her say it. For memory sake.

“Mmmm.” Her humming as she ‘ponders’ reverberates in the shower, floating over the sound of water from the shower head falling to the floor like rain. “No… Adds to the atmosphere, don’t you think?” 

Ah. There we go.

“Then could you at least step back?” you request. This shower is comically huge—long length, breadth about the same length as your arm span. In the space, she looks so tiny, but you know for a fact that she could probably walk to the other end of the shower in a stride. You’re not one to disregard the facts, but you do like to live with a bit of imagination.

Wonyoung chuckles, low and sonorous. She pushes her hair over her shoulder, then—painfully slowly—walks back till she’s out of the stream of water. Water wastage is the last thing on her mind. She stops when she feels your hands on her back, and she looks over her shoulder, expectant. You move your hands and the soap lathers as it’s spread. You start from the centre of her back, rubbing gently in the section where the muscles of her shoulders meet and working your way outwards and upward to her shoulders. Then it’s down from there, your palms moving in small circles and covering every inch of skin.

“You’re good at this,” she mutters, watching with intent as your hands start to trail to her lower back. “Maybe you should’ve been a masseuse instead of a writer.”

“Uh… Patronising much?” You chuckle, watching as her back muscles twitch a little when you apply gentle pressure. “The pay’s about the same,” the soap makes patterns across the area above her ass—spirals of foam that stick to her skin like styrofoam flowers. “The hours are probably the same… But I don’t think I can live on rubbing someone’s back really hard. I Think I’ll just save this service for you, but only for when we meet.”

Humored, Wonyoung offers a giggle, high pitched and cutting above the sound of water striking the floor tiles. She shifts her weight to her right foot, making her body slant a little. Her skin is soft under your palms. Your hands are going lower and lower, slowly spiralling towards the curve of her ass that’s literally just a centimetre away.

“You know…If you take up my offer, you can do this for me everyday.”

Your hands slow to a stop. You raise your head a little to find her searching for your gaze over her shoulder. “Oh?”

“Yea.” Her voice is low, like a mother trying to persuade her child to eat their vegetables. “Every night, we can be like this: you soaping my back, us chatting… Doesn’t it sound wonderful?”

Your lip furls behind your front teeth. “Yea… It really does.”

And in her gaze, you sense her sensing your apprehension. “What’s stopping you from taking it up then?”

(For context, here’s the deal proposed by her company: the two of you go public with the relationship, get clout for the company, and Starship will let you lead your lives together—no qualms, no disturbances. She can visit you whenever, live with you, appear outside together with you like it’s a regular Tuesday night; you get to date the girl you fell in love with all those years ago for real. Only issue: once you get the last stroke of your signature out on the contract, you practically agree to blurring the line between your private and public life. Press will be all over you like ants after you step on their nest, you probably won’t get to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace, everyone will suddenly want to curry favours with you… Was it worth the sacrifice?)

You find it hard to meet her eyes, and so your gaze affixes itself on your hands. It’s not like you don’t love her or anything, but your apprehension makes you feel like shit. It shouldn’t be this hard to say yes, yet the idea of selling your life of privacy to live a life with her makes you screech to a halt at the crossroads. Sometimes (in these moments), you wished that you didn’t always make decisions with your head and your heart. 

As the shower continues to run, Wonyoung slowly turns around. One hand finds yours, the other gently takes you by the chin and raises your eyes up to her. She’s tall, and the two of you are staring eye to eye; same height, different trains of thought.

The hand on yours guides you to her breast. Eyes locked with yours, she lays your palm flat against her tit. The skin beneath your fingers is slippery, but it doesn’t remove any of the familiarity from the sensation. Then she squeezes, and the flesh spills out between your fingers like putty. She gasps—airy. 

“Don’t you want me?” She whispers, and it’s raunchy more than anything. It isn’t aggressive, but it’s certainly blurring the line between demanding and caring. “Don’t you want to be able to fuck this pretty little pussy every night?”

She’s really far from home base. “Wony…”

“Don’t you love owning me?” She’s squeezing harder. Her knee twitches. Sopa’s spilling out of your fingers. You’re certain that you’re gonna mark her. She doesn’t care. “Don’t you want me all over you? Every night?”

“It’s not that Wonyoung.”

“Then what’s on your mind?” She’s not prodding for an answer, nor is she trying to demand a reason for your silence. She wants to understand you, to internalise what’s going on inside your head. You have no reason to lie.

“Will it all really be okay?” you ask sincerely. “My family, my life… Will… Will it all really be…”

She understands where you’re coming from (if the relieving of pressure around her own breast is any indication), and she’s starting to tune herself to the frequency of your worries. “If you’re wondering if you’re gonna be harassed—you won’t.”

“Yea but—”

“I promise you: I will do everything I can to make sure that you will be safe. You and your family–if so much as a finger is laid on any of you, I will quit.”

“Wonyo—”

“No one will intrude on you. You won’t have to live with the flashing lights. I give you my word: I will make sure that everyone who wants to invade your privacy will leave you alone. You and your family will all be left alone.”

If it’s possible for sincerity to ring clear, Jang Wonyoung has absolutely made it happen. Sweet like honey; she’s left you feeling like you had a spoonful of it. And just for good measure, she steps closer and repeats once more: “I promise.”

Considering that your hand was at the left side of her chest, this was really a “I swear. Hand to my heart” type of deal (whether it’s intended or not is purely up to your discretion). 

And as you gaze into those eyes, you want to remember the way she gazes at you softly, gently, tenderly. If it weren’t for your hand on her tit, you would’ve considered this one of the more tender moments you’ve shared with her. Not that it’s not or anything… Just that it’s a little hard to call this a loving moment when you can literally feel her nipple poking into the flesh of your palm at all times of the conversation.

“Are you sure you won’t land yourself in trouble?” you ask her, and she’s quick to scoff.

“Of course. I make too much fucking money fo those higher up fuckers to not listen to me,” she reminds you. 

Well… Then that settles about everything then.

“Okay,” you tell her. “Okay… I’ll do it.”

The corners of her lips play up in a smile. She leans in, kisses you—no tongue, closed mouth—and lets the hand keeping yours at her breast fall. Long arms wrap around your waist and she pulls you close, flushing her tight frame against your body. When lips part, she whispers a soft I love you, a sparkle in eyes that lingered for a moment.

But only for a moment.

Then—without you noticing—her hand snakes down and grips your rapidly hardening shaft, and she squeezes. This time, the line between demanding and caring is clear as day, and she’s chosen to play her ball to the court of demanding. With a gleam in her eye, she begins stroking with her closed fist, and she pumps your stiff length at a slow but steady rhythm, adding an occasional twisting motion to her wrist, corkscrewing her fingers around your cock, increasing the pleasurable shocks she was sending through your system with each pump of her hand. It was almost like she wasn’t the sweetest, loving girl in the whole world just two seconds ago.

“Jesus fucking…” You can’t even finish your sentence. Your teeth grit. Your fists clench. It’s hard to breathe. “Maybe… A little bit of a heads up next time?”

She smirks proudly, watching as you tilt your head back and let out a groan. “Where’s the fun in that?” And gently, she pushes against your chest, guides you to the wall. When your back presses against the cool tile, she presses herself against you. She leans in, hot breath on your skin, and then the feeling of her lips against your jaw almost makes you yelp. She kisses a path down your jaw, paves a way towards your neck to get cheeky: sucking, nibbling, licking the skin of your neck while she keeps the movement of her hands slow and considerate. The shower continues to run.

Do you know—she breaks contact with your skin for just a second—how fucking horny—her breath’s tickling your ear, sending shivers down your spine—you make me?—and she squeezes a little harder around your shaft, not enough for it to hurt, but enough to feel you throb in your hand and make you gulp a little. She starts going faster—jerking, fucking pumping your length in her closed fist, and it’s almost impossible to keep your eyes open; your eyelids flutter shut. Your head rests against the wall, a sigh slipping past your lips. It’s filthy really—down from the way she catches you off guard to the way she makes your skin sore after she’s done feasting. Almost every interaction with her in a private space is as X-rated as this; it’s hard not to get into a situation like this around her. You know: a situation where the two of you are naked and getting really touchy and actively trying to get each other as many times as humanly possible. 

“Fuck yes baby…” you rasp, your nails starting to eat into your palms as she the sound of her hand sliding up and down your dick starts to cut above the steady stream of water. With each rise of her hand, the pad of her thumb plays with the head of your member, and when it sinks down, she twists her wrist in a screwing motion. Rinse and repeat; up and down and up and down and fuck. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

She hums in reply, and she has your earlobe between her teeth the next second, nicking you mischievously, sending small pricks of pain shooting through your system as she adjusts her grip on your cock without ever breaking her motion. Next thing you know, your tongue is inside your ear, and she’s leaning in so close that when you open your eyes, you’re practically looking over her shoulder, looking down the curve of her back that glistens with moisture and soap bubbles.

“I love this cock so fucking much,” she whispers, a bit of a hiss in her words as she takes the head of your cock between her forefinger and thumb and pinches lightly. “It stretches me out when I need it.” her fingers start to trail down your slipper shaft, letting the smoothness of her palm rub against your whole length, “fills me when I want it.” She’s milking the precum out of you, making you all leaky and squirmy as she starts pumping faster. “And it’s so fucking big that I can choke on it. You know how much I love being choked.”

She chooses that last bit to make eye contact with you, and she’s practically served you what she wants next on a silver platter. The next move is clear cut and simple; no words need be spoken. You were going to fuck her—and you mean properly fuck her—with a hand wrapped around that small throat. How you were gonna do it was still a mystery, but you figured that it’d slowly come to you, but it will definitely be related to the mirror and the sink outside and the mirror in front of it. At once, you reach over to the handle of the shower, and you turn it down to the handheld showerhead mode. Wonyoung bites her bottom lip, perverse glee painted all over her face as you use it to wash the soap off her back. She’s watching, waiting, probably drenched down there and aching to be stuffed full of cock.

She’s almost shaking with excitement as you finish washing all the soap off her body. You’d hardly consider her clean, but it won’t hurt to hop back into the shower again once you're done with her. The shower door swings open and you’re cupping her pussy, dripping wet while stumbling out with her, lips locked on hers and her hand on your cock as you push her against the sink of her hotel room. From the moment her mouth opens and let the moans pour out while you rub her clit to the moment her hand leaves your cock to cradle your face, she’s practically radiating need from the pores of her skin. You can’t help but playfully remark, “you’re such a fucking loser”, while your thumb thumps against her clit and sends pleasure tearing through her system. Weak in the knees, she holds on to you for support.

And the moans (those fucking hair-raising moans), they tumble out of those plump lips like marbles down a ramp, and they mix with the sound of your lips smacking against her skin as you start to leave a trail of kisses down her neck, doing to her what she did to you in the shower; you give her a taste of her own medicine, and the way she’s titling her head back to let you mark her freely makes it almost seem as if it’s the intended outcome of her actions. It’s like she knew that you would get back at her, and it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you ever find out that she gets off on knowing that she can manipulate you in her own bratty ways—get you wrapped around her finger and have you doing all the things she wants you to do without having to tell you. Not that you have something to gripe about it, but you’re just so amused (and that’s just one word to describe how you feel) by how she goes about her ways.

“Come on,” she manages to whisper, all while you’re busy sucking on the skin just below her collarbone till it’s sore. She has a lot of pride in her voice for someone who’s quite literally quivering. “You know you want to fuck me. Give me a good creampie again.” 

You lift your head for a moment, and you take in the look of almost childlike excitement on her face as your hand finds its way to her throat. It’s perverse excitement, that lewd exhilaration of knowing that she was about to get what she wanted, and albeit a little messed up, it was pretty hot in its own way. When your fingers gently wrap themselves around her throat, you can feel every muscle in her body tense in anticipation, as if she didn’t get enough from the bedroom earlier.

“Up on the counter baby. Let me see how messy you are down there,” you whisper.

She knows what to do, and she has herself propped up on the counter and engaged in open mouth kissing. She doesn’t need you to tell her to spread her legs, and she definitely doesn’t need you to tell her how cute she sounds when your fingers slip inside of her, feeling around the mess you’ve made of her and coating your digits in her fluids. Your index and middle finger are slick with her juices when you retract them from inside her, and you can’t help but chuckle. 

“Messy as ever,” you muse, making a show of sucking her juices clean off your fingers. She’s sweet and borderline tangy—a taste that you’re accustomed to, and you will never get tired of it. She’s biting down on her lower lip, the skin wrinkling under the pressure of her front teeth as she makes a sound that’s close to a purr. 

“You made the mess.” She has her eyes locked on yours as you raise an eyebrow, prompting her to follow up after her first statement. Not that you didn’t know what was coming, but more that you wanted to gently coax it out of her, because it was so fucking hot to hear what she had to say next. “You clean it up.”

And you’re more than happy to oblige. She watches you with intent eyes as you sink down to your knees, waits with bated breath as you lower your face till the glistening, pink folds of her pussy are right in front of your face, flushed thighs around your ears. Her excitement is almost palpable, and you can hear the sharp inhale she takes when your palm finds its place on the inside of her left thigh, pushing gently to give you better access to her heat (you’re really just trying to drag out the tension if you were being completely honest with yourself). You lick your lips, lean forward till your mouth is hovering above her slit. 

“You better moan for me this time,” you tell her, and you’re making sure to make your breath hit her slick as you speak. “You have such a wonderful voice. Put it to use.”

Praise mixed with the slight hint of authority—it’s enough to make her nod furiously and implore you with doe eyes to just get on with it. With a smirk, your lips find the swollen nub at the top of her entrance. You suck on it. Hard. And almost at once, her thighs clamp around your ears and her hand is on your head, like it’s some sort of natural instinct for her when you’re eating her out. Keeping to her word, she cries out—keening, whiny and ever so fucking bratty, and it’s the the holy grail of every wet dream. Nothing in the world could bring you more satisfaction than that shrill, airy cry she lets out when the pleasure ripples through her body, and you’re just getting started. 

Your mouth opens and your tongue flattens itself against her folds, (She tastes so good. You want all of it, all of her) and you drag it up her folds, deliberately, painfully slow as you start to lick up that wet cunt. Her back arches; you can feel her struggling to keep a hold of your head; she throws her head back and lets out a gasp; her thighs clamp down a little harder around your head. The pleasure in her system builds up with the slow movement of your tongue, only rising and rising as you lick from the base of her slit to the mid section to the top. When the tip of your tongue flicks her clit, it's almost like an explosion, enough for her other hand to join its pair atop your head, enough to make her cry out in a perverse plea, “Daddy, please!”

(For the record: she’s wanted this from the moment you guys stepped into the shower. She’s willingly turned herself into some pliant little plaything, and she’s probably getting off so hard to it. Frankly, if she wanted to order you around, you’d be up to it, but this is what she prefers.)

And nothing else needs to be said really. You put your whole mouth on her—relishing the shiver that runs up from her thighs up to her body—and get right into making a wreck of her. You lick, you devour, you ravish her: working your mouth on her pussy, lapping up the juices that spill forth from flushed lips with broad, sharp strokes that make her body grow taut and her legs quiver. You tongue her clit, lick up sweet fluids, make her messy and needy and hot in all the right areas till she’s drilling her nails into the back of your scalp and pushing your face against her sweet slick. In half whispers, she tells you just how good you make her feel—oh Daddy I’m so fucking wet!—and you feel a dark part of yourself be fed by these lecherous words—Oh god oh fuck I’m gonna fucking cum if you keep… Fuck!—that leave her half-parted mouth and linger in the air, reminding you of just how wanton she is and how you’re the only person in the world she ever wants to fuck and be satisfied by. You’re hers; she’s yours—a relationship with Jang Wonyoung that any guy would kill for. 

“Daddy—” she gaps, her voice a whole octave higher than it should be as her nails turn into claws at the back of your head. “Fuck I’m cumming. Daddy I’m cumming!”

The pulsing of her pusy against your tongue grows. You continue licking, lapping. One stroke, two strokes—three. She moans, blue screens. You hazard a look up.

Nothing else matters. Only: the sight of that back arching off the marble counter, her thighs around your head trembling and quaking as her hips roll and her mouth parts in a silent scream. You’re certain that there’s blood being drawn from the back of your head, but you're more certain that she’s got enough heat in her core to melt molten iron but a lack of breath that makes her gasp for air as you lick and lick and lick your way into her. You can feel her orgasm getting closer by the second, it’s in her breathing, and in the way her hips are practically thrusting her into your mouth.

And just like the bathrobe from earlier, she comes undone—falls apart and ceases to keep control of her body. She tenses, her thighs go rigid around your ears. Her breath is caught in her throat, her eyes are closed. You stop your work, admire the way she glows as her body twitches and her face twists. Pleasure rips its way through her muscles, her nerves—splits her very being in half as the orgasm rolls through her system. She’s beautiful, and she’s a messy work of art that you’ve created. 

You rise to your feet as she winds down, and her hands leave your head to rest on the counter while her body struggles to process the aftermath of that orgasm. It’s not the first time she’s cum for the night, and it certainly won’t be the last. Her eyes open, and she instantly locs them on you as you brush back some of the hair that sticks to her sweat slicked face. You take her hand and give a gentle tug, and she slips off the counter obediently. You grip her jaw—tenderly but rough enough for her to like it—and tell her to turn around. Servile, she obeys, and in the reflection of the mirror, she watches as your hand snakes its way to her throat and grips it. You’re not squeezing, not yet. 

“I’m gonna fuck this pretty little pussy now,” you drawl, gripping your shaft in your hand and slapping it against her slit. The contact makes her shudder, but she remains silent as you place a kiss on her cheek. “Your face is gonna be so pretty when I choke you and fill you.”

“Yes Daddy.” Her reply is a whisper, a borderline drawl that’s airy and raunchy and makes your hairs stand on their ends. She’s looking at you through the mirror, plump lips slightly parted and eyes glassy. “Own me. I’m yours, forever.”

And you’re all too happy to hear that from her.

You slip into her, hilt yourself inside her in one swift motion. 

(Tight. Hot. Wet. So tight.)

She lets out a sigh, low and sonorous, harmonising with your own groan as you press her against the edge of the counter and make the fingers around her throat squeeze. The sound that leaves her throat is the sound of her sigh being truncated, and it delights that dark part of you. Being inside Wonyoung was otherworldly, as it always was, but here, in the bathroom of her hotel, on the night where you’ve agreed to seal a deal with her, she felt downright heavenly.  She squeezes her walls around you, her body thankful for the sensation of being filled by cock, if the intense tightness and slick wetness were any indication; she looks over her shoulder and bites her bottom lip. And when she has your gaze, she mouths something. 

Fill me.

The silence is deafening, but it’s all you need to hear. 

When you withdraw your glistening shaft for the first time you relish in the feel of her walls gripping you, not wanting to release you—but just as quickly they welcome you back inside as you penetrate her again. Soon you are pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace, her soft gasps turning quickly into long, drawn out moans as she is fucked against the marble. Her hands steady her body against the counter, her back arched in a way that lets you get a wonderful top-down view of her breasts as they roll together with her body. It’s a concerted effort, but she makes it seem effortless. 

“Be honest.” With the hand around her throat, her voice sounds a little hoarse. It’s hot. “Do you think about this, Daddy? About fucking me like a good little slut?”

“Wonyoung,” you reply, speaking through your gritted teeth. “You have no,” and you punctuate the sentence there with a deeper thrust into her tight slick, a thrust strong enough for her to let out a strained gasp. “fucking idea…”

(In the mirror, you watch as she curls her lips into her mouth and tilts her head back into your shoulder, like she’s submitting her whole being to you and letting you take liberties with her body. You take the invitation, and your free hand finds itself on one of her soft mounds and gives it a squeeze—rough but tender enough to elicit a low moan from her throat that makes your hand around it vibrate pleasantly. 

At the given moment, she’s doing all she can to make herself a pretty little fuckdoll for you, doing her best to encourage you to treat her rough, treat her like you own her. She wants nothing more but to feel the rockhard meat penetrating her tight little cunt stretch her out and fill her the way she wants, all while she’s begging and pleading obsequiously while being obsessed with your cock. It’s a lot to take in for her for sure, but she gets off on it, and you get off on it too—the fact that she’s being all needy and pleading just so she can implicitly tell you to fuck her till she’s raw and can’t fucking walk the next morning. The fact that she’s actually in control while being such a bottom. Bratty manipulation.)

“Then fuck me Daddy,” she tells you, almost pleading. “Use this pretty little pussy. I want it. I fucking need it.”

With her invitation to do more with her body, you’re more than ready to do what you’ve intended to do from the very start. You increase your tempo, and before long you are truly fucking her, drilling in and out of the tight hot warmth of her body with quick, deep strokes. With each stroke you don’t pull out more than halfway—you concentrate instead on pumping hard and fast, getting as deep as you could inside her given your standing position. She takes it well, like she was made for this. In her world, this was what fucking looked like, and it was the only definition that she was going to live with and she’d take it to the grave. She indulges in the roughness, the almost animal-like way your cock fills her again and again and again, all while she encourages you with cries and moans and sighs that are music to your ears. 

And a notion hits you: she’s going to make you fuck her till she’s the only thing you can possibly think about. She’s going to draw out every single primal urge within you, make you want her like she’s some form of drug and you’re the abuser, and then she’s going to get exactly what she wants—your cum in her pussy. You can’t let her win like that, you can’t. You can tell that to yourself now, but you’re not sure if you can remember it later, not when she practically reeks of the strongest possible sillage of sex. 

Her pussy throbs around you, pulse strong and just a beat behind your thrusts as you thrust yourself in and out of her slick walls, filling her up and drawing yourself out before filling her up yet again. Pure filth spills from her mouth, expletives, sordid sighs and cries and any sound or word that comes to mind. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and from the mirror you enjoy the way she’s almost writhing in against the counter. Ample breasts bounce with each thrust that shocks her body, and it’s almost hypnotic if it weren’t for the fact that that pretty face was stealing the show. The face that was marvelled, the face that was the source of jealousy, the face that was on the face of so many magazines and posters and adored by millions, if not billions—scrunched up, improper and so fucking lewd that it looked like it belonged in a porno instead of an idols face, and you take pleasure in the fact that your cock is ruining the face of a princess, turning her dissolute and so fucking needy that she was as good as a fan begging her for an autograph. This side of her was reserved for you, and only you—her duality is reserved for your eyes only. 

Her body is slick with sweat, rubbing against your own sweaty torso while her body rolls together with your thrusts. “Fuck—” you’re saying, but it comes out as more of a growl than anything given how hard yur teeth are clenching. Your fingers squeeze tighter around her throat. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her pussy to clench even tighter around you—and the added tightness brings succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you’re going insane. You probably are at this rate. “This pussy. It’s so fucking good baby.”

Her reply is a strained gasp, but you get the gist of what she wants to say. She wants, so badly, to tell you how good your cock is making her feel, how well it fucks her, how well it fills her and stretches her and how it’s her favourite thing in the whole world. The squelch of your cock filling her pussy is loud, but not loud enough to drown out the smacking of skin against skin as you press more of your weight against her, pushing her a little more into the corner of the counter and a little more over the line of pathetic. She moans in response to your actions, and it’s telling you: fuck. Harder. It’s better when it hurts. 

And you can feel her juices leaking down the back of her thighs, wetting your crotch and making the smack of skin against skin louder than ever, almost as if it was an announcement: I’m being fucked like a good little slut and I love it. She doesn’t know what she’s doing to you,and for clarity, it’s something along the lines of turning you absolutely feral with her moans and the divine tightness of her pussy that makes you want to cum on the spot. Okay,maybe she is cognizant of how crazy she makes you when you fuck her, but you barely have the capacity to think, let alone rationalise wether thai girl in your arms that your chocking and fucking feel smug in knowing that she’s driving you insane. 

Oh and she loves it when you play with her tits. The way you fondle them is almost aggressive. Scratch that—it’s really fucking aggressive. You’re slapping her tits, leaving red marks all over the milky white skin and pinching and twisting the stiff nubs atop her breasts, all while she mewls and cries out in that strained voice that makes you throb even harder inside of her wet walls and makes you grit your teeth like your a dog waiting to chew on a bone. 

“D-Daddy,” she pushes out, past the fingers that close her airways and past her groans and moans and sighs. “Harder.” And your thrusts are starting to cut her off, but she has more to say. When it comes out, each word that she spits out is punctuated by a thrust of cock into her pussy, and it’s the hottest thing you’ll ever hear. 

Fuck.

You thrust deep inside her. 

Me.

Your cock drives itself deep into her, slicking itself with her juices.

Harder.

And if words could linger in the air, hers certainly would. 

You fuck her hard, and fast, and deep—hammering her into the counter, nailing her defenseless pussy with a pace that you would have thought was rough and callous were it not for the fact you knew this was exactly how she wanted it. All she can do is hang on, grasp onto the counter with a knuckle-white grip with her hands as you take your liberties with her body, fucking her as hard as you can, as deeply as she can take it. The cups on the counter shake, the toothbrush inside one of them shaking under the force. It’s loud,  but you hear none of it. You hear only the sharp sighs of pleasure that leave Wonyoung’s lips, and the wet slap slap slap of your crotch as it hammers her cunt again and again and again, your cock drilling her, pounding her, making her yours if you weren’t already doing that.

It takes a little long, but the haze of lust parts for a moment for you to realise that you're getting closer and closer to getting what she wants out of you. While the thought of burying yourself inside of that quivering, pulsing pussy to let it milk every last drop of cum from you is ever so enticing, that small part of you that wants to own her pushes you to fight against the urges. Not that there’s any harm in giving her what she wants, but it’s just that you don’t want to reward her bratty, manipulative tactics. She knew for a fact that she could tie you up and ride you over and over till you were dry—she’d done it before. But instead, she’s chosen to fulfil her needs in a less direct manner, maybe for fun or maybe just because she felt like it. 

“Yes,” Wonyoung hisses, spit flying into the mirror and her palms slipping on the counter. “Just like this Daddy.” And she’s making sure to make eye contact with you through the mirror, letting her eyes do most of the talking. If anyone’s curious, the look she gives you is saying, I’m your good little slut. Fuck me. Use me. Fill me. Please, and it's nothing short of hot and tethering far over the line of lewd. At this point, neither of you are in a state where you're capable of coherent thought, nor are you capable of thinking about anything else except each other’s bodies and the wet, lewd squelching of cock filling Wonyoung’s pussy. It goes on and on and on, a cycle of your hips hammering the back of her legs and your cock spearing deep into her cunt.  She takes it so well, drinking you in hungrily, coiling around your shaft like a snake as if it was begging for you to stay in her forever. The sight is enough to make your balls tingle and your toes curl, and your hand around Wonyoung's throat tightens to the point where the only thing that can leave her lips is a groan as her airflow is reduced. 

She’s tighter, hotter, wetter. Her pussy fits you like a glove, moulding around your cock as it pumps in and out of her at a pace that you had no idea you were capable of. The hand around her neck is nothing but an outlet of pleasure for you, and she’s loving it. “Such a good girl,” you mutter, watching from the mirror as her mouth slacks and opens while she’s being pumped full of cock. “You were made to take Daddy’s cock, weren’t you?”

Her equivalent of a yes is a sharp, strained groan—an amalgamation of phonics and whatever sounds the lack of air flowing to her throat permits her to make. She’s so fucking messy down there, and your cock is sliding in and out of her with ease, aided by her slick juices that coat your shaft and let it disappear and reappear from between her legs with ease. The motion is almost graceful if it weren’t for the fact that it was a sordid one, and you take a moment to admire the way your shaft glistens in the light of the bathroom while you fuck her the way she wants it: rough, hard and tethering over the edge of callous. If it weren’t for the hand around her throat, she’d be making herself hoarse with all the moaning she’d be doing.

And the hand around her throat is bringing her so much pleasure, if the way her pussy squeezes around you when you choke her is any indication. She wasn’t lying when she said she liked being choked. While she didn’t like gagging on your cock, she sure as hell loved it when your fingers clasped around the muscles and made her gasp. She liked the sensation of being deprived of air, be it when she was riding or when she has her kness buried into her shoulders and was being fucked into the bed like a slut. You were always afraid of hurting her, but when she shots you that look, the one that says, come on, you can do better, you know that she’s getting exactly what she wants, just the way she likes it. It was just a matter of how hard you squeeze around her throat before she either cums or passes out, though the latter has rarely happened before the former.

“Daddy!” she chokes, and you know exactly what she’s about to say next. So you release her throat from her grasp, bunch a lock of her hair in your closed fist and you pull back. Her eyes squeeze themselves shut. Her back arches deliciously, her voice now free to finish shat she’s aching to announce. “I’m fucking…”

You never expect her to finish her sentence. Wonyoung’s eyes open, and a gasp leaves her open lips. Her walls, already vice-like, tighten so hard around you that you think you might come there and then. You feel how close she is. 

“Fucking cum for me, Wonyoung. Cum around my cock like a good little slut.”

Wonyoung does as she is told—and the quivering, trembling orgasm she experiences is almost frightening in the way it overwhelms her body, turning her into a wet, hot mess. Her pussy tightens and pulsates, her fingers claw against the marble counter, and her entire lower body shakes violently, as though she had lost control of her nerves and muscles. For a few beautiful seconds she is utterly overwhelmed by the sensations, until finally she slumps forward in your grasp, breathing heavily. 

It's good. It's so good, but it's not quite enough to get you to your finish. Not yet.

(And if anyone’s asking: it’s not that the sex isn’t good. It’s mind blowing, amazing, and whatever word that can be used to describe “fucking incredible”.  She’s hot, so tight and fucking soaked down there. You’re horny, throbbing and on the verge of filling her full of your seed. But you’ve said it before and you’ll say it again—you’re not rewarding bratty manipulation. As tempting as it would have been to simply pound her from behind until you gave her needy pussy the load of semen she so desperately wanted, you knew that there was something even better that you could do.)

You pull out of Wonyoung, your shaft glistening under the hotel light. Her eyes are wide with shock as you withdraw yourself from her body, pulling her away from the counter—but only enough to have her lean back against you and not stand up completely. Her mouth opens to say something, but she's interrupted when you turn her face to you and kiss her. She moans into your mouth, and you swallow it, your tongue slipping into her mouth and massaging her own, lapping at the roof of her mouth as her tongue swirled around your own. You bite her lower lip, and it's not rough, but enough to get her attention. When her eyes flutter open, you whisper, "I'm not finished."

She nods, and you relish the disappointment in her eyes. You turn her around, push down gently on her shoulders. She goes with the motion, and you're not sure if you can ever get over the image of Wonyoung on her knees with her pretty little face staring at you with anticipation. You think about fucking her face, letting your cock thrust into the back of her throat over and over and over till you finally bury yourself inside and cum down her throat, but that would just be a repeat telecast of every other night with her. Spice things up; give her the liberty of creativity with your cock. 

And of course, Wonyoung perfectly understands what has to be done. You step up to her. She parts her lips and takes your cock right into her mouth. Grasping the base of your cock and pumping it with one hand while she gently cups and squeezes your balls with the other, Wonyoung quickly launches into a hard and fast blowjob, taking the top half of your cock in and out of her wet mouth with a rapid pace while her fingers work your shaft in a corkscrew motion, just like she did in the shower. The suction of her mouth is almost lethal, and the audacity she has to look up at you while she takes your cock in and out of her mouth is so exhilarating that it makes you weak in the knees. Your hand finds a clump of her sweaty hair, and you close your fingers around it, holding them in your fist. No, you weren’t going to push her head down onto your cock; you had to give her the space to work on her craft. 

And of course, she exceeds every expectation out there. Your eyes shut involuntarily, your brain unable to handle any sensations beyond the wet, hot cavern of Wonyoung’s mouth sealed tightly around your shaft with tight, soft lips. With the first entry into her mouth her wet tongue is pressed tightly against the underside of your shaft, lathering it with her spit. With each subsequent entry her tongue becomes more adventurous, beginning with quick swipes left and right on your shaft with each entry and ending each exit with a swirl of the tip around the head of your cock. While she tastes herself on your cock, letting her juices mix with saliva, her hands work in perfect concert with her mouth, one joining her lips at your shaft and pumping up and down, a twisting motion to her wrist while her free hand works gently with your dangling balls, fondling them with considerate fingers. She plays with them softly yet hastily, her fingertips working their magic between the sacs with expert attention.

You are content to stand there with your eyes shut, simply enjoying the feel of your cock pumping in and out of her mouth at a fervent pace, but a small part of you knew that you had to see it happening in order to truly believe it was all real—and so with a not insignificant amount of self-control, you force eyes open to watch the spectacle unfolding between your legs. Black locks bob up and down frantically above your cock, doe-like eyes glazed with pure lust staring right up at you as her cheeks hollow and her jaw unhinges even more to accommodate your length. 

It all becomes too much, and it hits you all at once—having her pump your shaft in the shower, eating her out then fucking her—and you quickly find yourself nearing that inevitable peak.

“Fuck, Wony—” is all you manage to say before your orgasm overtakes your world.

Wonyoung releases your cock from her mouth a split second before you erupt, shooting long, thick strands of hot semen all over her pretty little face. Her face glazes over in pleasure and you are all too happy to watch as strand after strand of cum lands on her cheeks, her pretty little nose, and finally her open mouth and jaw. You watch, through half-lidded eyes drunk with pleasure, as the thick streams of cum flow down her face, dripping onto her upper chest and those perfect breasts of hers. Her face is flushed and her mouth open, as though she herself was on the verge of orgasm (she probably was, and she was going to make it your problem as soon as she got your cum off her face).

You want to remember the way she wipes your cum off her face with the back of her hand, how she licks it all up like a cat licking its own paw before moving to clean the stray strands of cum off the tip and sides of your cock. You want to remember how she rises so gracefully even though she was a sweaty mess, and how she gently takes your hand and guides you back into the shower for another clean up.   

And back under warm water, you want to remember how she kisses you, and how she whispers, “next time, I want that big load in my pussy.”

*

“What?”

And it’s hard to meet Wonyoung’s eyes as you set down the papers from the doctor. You can feel her confusion, her frustration, her rage from across the dining table in your apartment. It isn’t pretty. Nothing about this situation is. 

“It’s a neurological disease,” you tell her, all while you’re looking at the MRI that’s in the middle of the table. You’re really just regurgitating what the doctor told you—it’s the only thing you have the capacity to do right now. “They ran their tests. They told me what I suspected. I’m losing my ability to read and write, to understand language. In 2 years—give or take —I won’t be able to express my thoughts. I’ll be spouting gibberish. What people say, what I see — on pages, street signs, everywhere — they’ll all be unintelligible to me.” She’s silent, and it unnerves you in every way possible. You haven’t even gotten to the worst part of it all. “My mental competence will deteriorate. I’ll have to live off a tube cause I’ll forget how to eat and drink. Dementia will follow shortly.”  

Now would be a great time for her to say something, anything to break this silence. But she is silent, unmoving and reticent in her seat from across you. You have no choice but to gulp and deliver, in your personal opinion, the worst part of it all, “By the time I forget how to breathe I… I would’ve lost all my memories by then.”

She chooses the moment after the last word leaves your mouth to pick up the MRI scan and look at it. 

“So… Everything we’ve built up till now will just… Disappear?” she whispers. She sounds hurt, scared and everything in between. You bite your lower lip. 

“Yes.” There’s no point sugarcoating it, it’s inevitable anyway. Face it now, sulk later… You think that’s the best way to deal with this piece of news. You hope that the matter-of-fact tone of voice that you’ve chosen doesn't betray how frightened you are by the prospect of losing everything you know. “We can’t stop it. It’s in my genes.”

She sets down the scan, and when you look up, you see the tears flowing down her cheeks and it makes you want to cry as well.

She stands up, shoulders her handbag and walks towards the front door. 

“Where are you—” you begin. “I’m going somewhere else to think,” she interjects. 

When she slams the door behind her, you feel like you’ve let her down in so many ways. There’s a burning in your chest that you can’t describe. The first hot tear rolls down your cheek, and you let the rest that well in your eyes flow down without resistance. 

You don’t want to remember what it feels like to be helpless—the emptiness, the rage, the sadness, the confusion is all so overwhelming. But you figure that you’ll have to feel it again at some point down the road. 

Might as well figure out how to cope with it now, when Wonyoung isn't there and you're all alone with your thoughts.

*

When you awaken later that night in your bed in the apartment, it takes you a few moments to determine whether the soft, slim body climbing atop you is real or part of some wonderful dream—but the familiar warmth of your girlfriend, and the soft, pleasant smell of her hair, convinces you that this was all real.

Wonyoung places soft kisses on your neck and jawline, before moving to your mouth and kissing your lips softly. You are still only half awake, but your senses and instincts take over, and you find your mouth welcoming her kiss and returning it with one of your own, your hands moving to either side of her hips and finding, to your surprise, that there was only bare skin there and no clothing.

“Wony…” you begin, as she deepens her kiss, her lips pressing more firmly against yours.

“Shhh,” she answers, “please. I need this. I need you, right now. Please.”

She’s suddenly reappeared after walking out on you, and you have yet to process the slew of emotions that have come your way. Part of you wants to stop her, to talk things out with her so that you could: a) figure out if she was still mad at you and; b) verify that she wasn’t drunk. But the part of you that formed the majority of your conscience knew that she needed comfort as much as you did, and that she needed something to assuage her and make her feel like everything would turn out alright. So you find yourself relaxing underneath her, letting her scent fill your nostrils as her tongue dances with yours.

She straddles you, and your hands begin to run up her naked body, up from her slim thighs to her chest where the ample mounds sat proudly, her nipples erect and stiff. She isn’t wearing any underwear, and your fingers brushing against the slick of her pussy is enough to verify that for you. She’s naked atop of you, kissing you like you just confessed your love to her or like you’re about to go on some mission and never return. It’s not lustful, but it’s full off passion and aims to soothe not stir. 

She breaks the kiss. Her eyes flutter open. In the dark that is pierced by the street lights of the city, you want to remember the way her eyes glimmer and shimmer as she breathes heavily. There’s no alcohol on her breath, and from the way she’s cradling your face, you can infer that she’s not mad at you in the slightest. 

“You okay?” she whispers, and her tone is soft and warm, like that time she spoke in the shower of her hotel about signing that contract with her company so that the two of you could officially start dating. It’s been some time after that, but you still hang on to the way her words made their way to your heart. “I didn’t mean to startle you if I did.”

You respond by nodding, and it’s enough to convey: I’m alright. You brush away the hair that falls in front of her eyes, and you really want to remember how silky smooth her hair feels in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” you ask her, making sure to keep your tone as warm as her own. She blinks, goes silent for a moment, then answers, “I’m making amends.”

She holds your gaze, you hold hers. The staring contest ends when you gently pull her in for another kiss, and you want to remember how she softly moans into your mouth while her thumb, smooth and tender, caresses your cheek.

When the kiss breaks again, her hands snake their way down to your sweats. You assist her in removing your shorts—a very clumsy affair: tangled hands and arms and lots of chuckling. But your cock does finally spring out from your boxers, the ones that have been discarded in the corner of the bed, together with her clothes. When it’s all done, you have the pleasure of witnessing the sight of her slim frame straddling you once more, long legs surrounding you on either side of your thighs while she peppers kisses on your chest. 

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with… Everything. Alone.”  she begins, “I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that… I’m sorry. I hope you aren’t angry”

And from your lying position, you lift a hand to cup her cheek. “We can talk later.”

She gets the message, but bends down and kisses you nonetheless. You’d probably have trouble falling asleep later in the night, and she’d wake up and you’d have this same conversation again. You’d rather have it later than now, not when the wound is still fresh.

Wonyoung lets a soft smile play on her lips. You are slightly aware of her raising her hips, her right hand finding its way between your bodies to grasp your wet, erect shaft, and line it up with her entrance. She breaks the kiss for the third time that night, searches your eyes for approval to continue with this. Was it make up sex? You didn;t know if it was for sure, but it sure as hell felt like it. What you do no for certain is: you’d like to experience this now, and you want to etch this in your memory for as long as you can before it fades with the rest of your mind. 

You give her the slightest of nods, and you feel the head of your cock press against her wet, tight opening. Slowly, carefully, Wonyoung lowers herself down onto your shaft, your cockhead parting her tight lips to impale her pussy. She gasps loudly as she impales herself fully, and she opens her eyes slightly to match your gaze. You brush stray locks of hair away to reveal her face fully, and you bring her mouth back to yours to kiss her deeply. As your tongues duel, she begins to raise her hips, drawing your shaft out of her body before lowering it once more, and soon she has found a soft, slow rhythm as she rides you, grinding her warm, tight body against yours. 

She raises herself upright and lets her hands rest on top of your chest. You’d like to save that face she makes in a supercut of her other memorable faces: eyes closed, lips slightly parted and the wisp of a smile on her lips as she rocks her hips. From where you lie, you watch as Wonyoung takes you in and out of her body with soft grinding motions, riding you slowly, enjoying every entry and exit of your shaft as it fills her over and over in slow, tender strokes that make her shiver. You watch as your shaft appears for a split second or so before driving back into her, each disappearance accompanied by a soft spike of pleasure. As always, she’s letting moans and sighs and gasps tumble freely from half-parted lips as she takes you in and out of her slowly, rocking her hips with innate grace and elegance. All you do is let your hands rest on her thighs, moaning softly to encourage her as she rides you lovingly, tenderly, a far cry from what you’re used to when it comes down to sex with Jang Wonyoung. 

Through the night, your cock glides in and out of that perfect pussy, elicits moans and gasp and sighs and cute little cusses when you hilt yourself deep inside of her and tug a little at her hair. Her hands were always active, sometimes caressing your chest, sometimes on your jaw, sometimes behind your head as she snaked an arm behind your head to keep you locked where you were just so she could sneak in a kiss. You came in her mouth, her ass, her pussy. She came on your fingers, your cock, your mouth. She cussed a lot, almost passed out once or twice. You cussed a lot two, and you caught her when she almost rolled off the bed (the two of you laughed for a minute about that situation before you ended up spooning on the floor, her leg in the air and your cock pumping in and out of her while she had your back to you and your face in her right hand). 

Bottom line: it was wonderful, wonderful make up sex that ended with both of you sweaty and panting and wanting more from each other but you guys just don’t have that energy to keep going. It was a novelty for both of you, and you wanted to remember just how special she could make you feel, even in the impurest of acts. 

*

The flash of the polaroid camera is almost blinding, but you power through and keep your eyes open. Like a child that’s seeing snow for the first time, Jang Wonyoung watches excitedly as the polaroid emerges from the slot in the camera, and she’s all too eager to grab it and lay it face down on the coffee table in your apartment.

“I thought you’re supposed to shake it?” you ask, watch as she fiddles with the camera for a little bit before she snaps a selfie with her newest purchase. She gives you a look that basically translates to, “uh, are you dumb?” and waits for the next polaroid to emerge from the slot before she launches into her lecture. 

“Shaking the polaroid to make it develop faster is a myth,” the way she sounds so official and everything is so cute. You can’t help but smile a little as she sets the other polaroid down. “It shifts the pigments and blurs the photo, but an idiot like you would need a genius like me to tell that to you.”

The remark is clearly meant to be biting, but it’s nothing short of hilarious to you. “When did you become a camera nerd?”

“Ever since I got this,” she lifts the polaroid camera up and hits you with that you’re on camera smile. “Maybe I should do an ad for this brand. Increase their sales, you know?”

She leaves you to think on that and retrieves the first polaroid she took: a picture of you and her on the couch of your apartment. Not the grandest first photo, but hey, a memory is a memory, and you really are just focusing on cherishing those at the moment. As she leaves the couch to clip the polaroid onto the photo rack (a bunch of metal wires on a metal frame with wooden clips to hold photos) she just set up, you grab your journal next to you and flip it to the page you wrote on a few hours before. With your pen (that you now carry around just about everywhere with your journal), you scribble down a new part of today that you want to remember. It was her idea to journal down everything you wanted to remember. 

The entry goes right under the one about Wonyoung’s new camera.

She looks so happy with that new camera. Bet she’s going to go back to the dorm and show it off to all of her members because she’s a fucking child. I hope that…

And you trail off in your writing, What you wanted to say was just on the tip of your tongue just a second ago. Why can’t you remember it? It was literally just in your head a minute ago…

No. 

You shut the journal. It makes a soft yet substantial thud as the leather cover slaps against pages. You place your pen in your pocket, set the journal back down on the couch and stand up to walk towards your girlfriend, who is currently adjusting the angle that the wooden clip holds the polaroid at. She senses you walking up to her, steps aside and makes a space for you to watch her struggle. You would offer help, but you know that it removes half the fun for her when you do something for her. 

She fiddles around a little more, makes a couple of grunting sounds under her breath, curses a little, and next thing you know, she exclaims, “tada!” while pointing at the first occupant of the photo rack. You roll your eyes, throw an arm over her shoulder and look at the slightly blurry photo within the white frame. 

“With the camera,” she tells you, her tone soft and warm like… Like… Fuck. “I hope that we can help our memories live on. Sounds pretty deep huh?”

You can’t help but chuckle in agreement. You take a moment to stare at the two faces that occupy the space in the polaroid, and you hope to God that they will never, ever look foreign to you. It’s a futile prayer, you know, but a glass-half-full mentality is the best chance you have at not spiralling out of control. 

Wonyoung lays her head on your shoulder, silent and all sentimental as she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. She lets out a shuddering sigh, and you know that she’s trying not to cry, cause in this situation she’s the one that will end up hurt at the end of it all. You’ll forget the pain of forgetting; she’ll remember the pain of being forgotten. It sucks, but it’s just the way it is. You hug her, hold her close and stroke her hair. You don’t want to forget what she means to you, what you mean to her.

How many more polaroids left till it all ceases to matter?

____________________

Hello! Hope you guys enjoyed this fic. I'm a bit rusty so this one might be a bit funny, but hopefully the style of storytelling I chose didn't fuck you up too bad. Non-linear storytelling will be the death of me. Also: I kinda didn't edit this one too much. My bad hehe.

This was really more of a PSA to cherish the ones you hold close to you, because you never know when they will just disappear. Love the people close to you, cherish them forever.

~Lots of love Nichuuu

[asonofpeter]

It's My Party

Pairing: Dark!Rafe Cameron x Plus-Sized!Best Friend!Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Rafe's birthday, so he could do whatever he wants, right?

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NON-C0N/DUB-C0N, substance use, alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), nipple play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

A/N: Woah! Where'd this come from? I honestly have no idea, I wrote this in like three days and I love it. My first full Rafe fic? YAY! I've been kinda down so I'm glad I was able to write this! Also pictures in moodboard are my personal perceptions of how Reader looks, doesn't translate into the story besides her being a plus-size queen! Enjoy! 💕💕💕

PLEASE HEED WARNINGS BEFORE READING! I DON'T CONSENT TO THIS WORK BEING REPOSTED, COPIED OR TRANSLATED!

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s my birthday,” Rafe chuckled, leaning back on his arms on your bed. “I wanna make sure the hottest girl at the party is wearing a pretty outfit,” he said, his striking blue eyes running over your frame. 

Your mouth fell open at his comment. You stared back at yourself in the mirror, studying the outfit Rafe had gotten for you. 

It was a dainty light pink sun dress with cherries on it paired with a matching ruffled tie-up cover. It was cute, feminine, soft. 

Just like you. 

“It’s not your birthday yet, Rafe,” you shook your head with a smile, glancing at your best friend before running your hands over the cotton.

“But it will be,” he replied. “So what do you think?” He referred back to the outfit. He had stood up by then, stalking over to you so that his front brushed with your back. The heat of him radiating onto your skin. 

The heat between your legs grew, but you forced it away. Shaking your head clear of any possibilities, you glanced in the mirror to look your best friend in the eyes. 

His intense stare was already on you.

“I love the outfit, but I don’t know about it making me the hottest girl at the party,” you snorted before walking away from the mirror to grab your clothes to change back into. You felt him roll his eyes at your statement but you ignored it as you turned back around to face him.

“You’re already the hottest girl, so that won’t be a problem,” he said, eyes darkening. 

This time you rolled your eyes.

“Really?” You scoffed. “You’re aware that the blonde skinny chicks are going to be throwing themselves at you, right? You won’t even notice I’m there,” you blew out a breath.

While you were comfortable in your own skin, loving your stomach rolls, stretch marks, and flabby skin—you also knew that you weren’t society's beauty standard. So it always confused you when Rafe flirted with you.

He would call you hot one minute and the next you’re seeing a blonde skinny girl walk out of his room with her clothes disheveled.

Still, he was just your best friend and you’re sure he only meant it for a fun laugh. He was never serious. 

As you were about to go into your bathroom, leaving the conversation, you felt a firm hand wrap around your arm.

“Why would I pay attention to those girls when I have you?” He questioned, face hard as he stared at you. “It’s my party and if I say you’re gonna be the hottest girl there, then you’re going to be the hottest girl there,” he squeezed you slightly. 

You exhaled sharply, dropping your gaze as you felt your cheeks flush once more. Sometimes you wondered if Rafe was truly attracted to you or if it was all a big lie just to get in your pants. “Okay, didn’t know it was a big deal,” you ripped your arm away from his grip. 

You also wondered if that curiosity was the reason you knew you’d never want to explore a relationship with him. Curiosity killed the cat and what you have with Rafe now is more than perfect for you to be wandering on a side of regret.

“Just wanted to make it known,” he shrugged, stepping back. “So do you like the outfit?” He asked.

Your face softened as you smiled. “Of course, I love it,” you emphasized, earning a smile from him. You closed the bathroom door behind you leaving him in your room.

Rafe had come over just like any other day. You expected you’d be driving to the club like always but today he had a bag from your favorite store in his hand. His smile brightened at the way your face lit up at the sight of it. 

You assumed it was another piece of jewelry or a handbag he made a habit of buying you. But no, it was an outfit this time around. And it was actually your size. Part of you wondered how he guessed so accurately but then you realized you weren’t giving him enough credit. 

He had bought you a cute outfit for a special occasion, and you were happy. 

“Are we still going to the country club? I’ve been craving their strawberry-mango smoothie,” you stated as you walked out of the bathroom, knowing the fruity drink had been on your mind since you had it well over two weeks ago. 

“We could do whatever you want,” he grinned.

~

There were few things in life Rafe enjoyed. And his birthday was one of them.

It was the one day out of the year that was about him. The one day out of the year when Sarah wasn’t the favorite. The one day out of the year that his dad didn’t look at him with disappointment or disapproval. It was the one day out of the year that he was celebrated just for existing. 

Most importantly, you would go all out. Planning him the perfect day to make him feel extra special. He doesn’t think he’d have any other person do that for him.

The thought brought a smile to his face and it only grew when you opened the door, greeting him immediately.

“Happy birthday!” You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face in the crook of his neck. 

He wrapped his arms around you, enjoying the smell of your perfume.

“Mr. 21,” you smirked, pulling away. “You feel old?” You joked.

“Not yet,” he reached up to push a piece of hair out of your face. “You look beautiful as always,” he complimented, loving the way you grew flustered. He raked his gaze over your body, taking in each curve, craving to touch the softness of your body, but he noticed a big thing was missing. “Where’s the outfit?” He questioned. 

“It’s in here,” you held up the bag in your hand. “That’s my party outfit, but we’re going golfing and I don’t want to sweat in it,” you explained. 

“I was gonna say,” he smirked before nodding towards his truck, implying it was time to go.

“Have some faith in me, Rafe,” you gazed at him, your eyes sending him a look he couldn’t decipher but his mind told him what he wanted to believe. 

He chuckled in response as he opened the door for you. 

“I have all my faith in you”.

Rafe knew it was the right thing to put all his faith in you. No one ever cared for him more than you, loved him more than you, treated him with respect more than you. You were safe, warm, and reliable. 

He glanced over as you watched the scenery pass by. You had your hands folded neatly in your lap, your skirt stretching over your thick thighs he craved to have wrapped around his waist or his head. 

You were goddamn gorgeous and the thought of you created an unquenchable thirst. Hell, he’s been thirsty since he realized he was attracted to you back in high school. But you were so fucking oblivious to his flirtatious remarks that you’ve never been more than best friends.

Curling his fingers around the steering wheel, he pushed the thought to the back of his head. Focusing on the road.

You arrived at the club shortly later, your water bottle in hand as you made it to the golf carts. You had one job today—sit pretty and cheer Rafe on.

Turning in your seat to face the course, you waved at the two men waiting on Rafe. They waved back before greeting the man of honor. Soon they started their game, Rafe’s name leaving your lips every time he hit the ball.

You didn’t understand the sport, found it rather boring. But it was his birthday so you faked your way through it with the biggest smile on your face. It wasn’t until you were done reapplying your sunscreen that he called your name.

Lifting your head to find him at the bottom of the short hill, he waved you over. You met him and the boys there, a puzzled look on your face.

“It’s the last hole, why don’t you give it a shot?” He grinned, eyes shielded from his sunglasses but you could still feel his intense gaze. 

Sticking your sunglasses in your hair, you squinted to where the flag was. “I don’t know how to play,” you stated matter-of-factly. “Besides, you guys are having fun, I’m just the cheerleader,” you puffed out a small laugh.

“It’s my birthday, c’mon,” Rafe tipped his head. “It’ll be fun,” he encouraged. “I’ll show you”.

You let out a soft breath, caving in. “Just this once,” you pointed. You stepped in front of Rafe’s welcoming stance, allowing him to envelope his arms around you. 

He showed you where to place your hands and position your fingers, his hands on top of yours. Almost every inch of him was pressed against you—his hands rested on your forearms, his chest against your back, and his front pressing against your ass. 

You gulped as the feeling made you hot before you attempted to ignore the proximity but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. And when he swung the club, following through, you smelled the masculine scent of his cologne, your knees buckling.

“Atta girl,” he grinned, stepping away to watch as the ball landed close to the hole.

“Damn, Y/N,” Kelce chuckled. 

“You should join us for the full game next time,” Topper smirked.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Thanks, guys, but I’m sitting out any future games,” you smiled. 

“You just need a little more convincing,” Rafe slid his arm around your shoulders. 

The four of you began heading back to the carts. Top and Kelce were in front while you and Rafe stayed behind.

“How’s your birthday so far?” 

“It’s more than perfect”.

~

“Wow,” Rafe smirked, watching as you walked out of his bathroom, now changed into the outfit he had specifically picked out for you. He reached for your hand, raising it in the air so you could spin. “You’re incredible,” he breathed out, in a complete daze.

“Rafe,” you dragged, avoiding his gaze as the heat grew on your face. “Thanks for the outfit, it’s really nice,” you played with the sleeves of the cropped cardigan. “But it was really expensive, I-,” you began, but he raised a hand.

“You’ll find a way to repay me,” he finished your thought, his blue eyes darkening. “But right now, we’re gonna celebrate my birthday,” he pointed over his shoulder towards the door where the party was starting.

With your hand in his, you nodded, letting him pull you along. 

You met up with Kelce and Top in the kitchen, everyone wishing Rafe a happy birthday as you passed. You thanked Kelce as he handed you a cup of water. The night was still young so you had enough time to catch up with the rest of the partygoers.

Leaning against the counter, you listened to the guys' conversation, droning in and out of it when parts became boring. It wasn’t until you spotted a few girls making their way toward the group, that a smile appeared on your face when you figured they came for Rafe.

While you held some feelings for Rafe, all you wanted was for him to settle down with a nice girl. One you could maybe be friends with too. It was a little fantasy you had.

“I love your dress, Y/N,” one of the girls complimented, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

The three Kook girls were standing in front of you and Rafe. You were a bit shocked that they acknowledged you first, but you welcomed their kindness.

“Thanks,” you rolled your lips together in a smile. “Your earrings are so cute,” you gestured to the gold hoops she had. 

She hummed before her attention turned to Rafe. “Happy birthday, Rafe,” she brushed her hand along his arm, squeezing his bicep. “Me and a few of my friends are gonna head into the pool if you wanna join,” she batted her lashes.

“Maybe later,” he pressed his lips together in a smile. “I’m with my friend right now,” he slid his arm over your shoulders.

You furrowed your brows, glancing at him like he was insane for turning down her offer. “He’s kidding,” you butted in. “You guys have fun,” you pressed a hand on his back, urging him closer to the girl.

“Awesome!” She beamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the patio.

Rafe glanced back at you with a look you couldn’t decipher but as he noticed the smile on your lips he only turned back around, shaking his head and chuckling. 

You knew he’d thank you later just as Kelce and Topper did when the other two girls dragged them along to the pool as well. You grabbed your water from the counter before weaving through the house. Just as you were about to go outside for some fresh air, you bumped into someone.

“Shit, my bad,” they apologized, placing a hand on your arm. “You okay?”

You gazed up to see a very handsome guy—tall, with dark eyes, dark hair, and dimples that were so kissable. 

“Yeah,” you shook your head, a little dazed by his beauty. “I’m fine,” you reassured. Many guys on the island were attractive enough to catch your eye, but this guy was something else.

“Can I get you a drink? Since I spilled yours,” he offered and that's when you noticed your cup was on the floor.

“Sure,” you beamed. “It was just water though,” you added with a shrug.

“A water for the lady then,” he grinned. 

You followed him back into the kitchen where he got you a new cup. He had asked if you were heading outside so you nodded as he grabbed your hand, leading you past the pool where you saw Rafe hanging out with the girl from before. 

A smile fell on your face, glad to see him have fun before you stopped at a bench under a tree in the yard. 

“I’ve never seen you around the island,” you told the guy, smoothing out the skirt of your dress before sitting down. 

“I’m visiting my cousin, he brought me along,” he answered. “What about you? You live here?” He gestured to the house.

“Oh, no” you snickered. “My best friend lives here, it’s his party,” you explained. You glanced back at those brown eyes, chewing on your lip as the butterflies in your stomach fluttered. There was a new feeling in your stomach tonight, far from basic attraction—there was more. 

But you couldn’t pinpoint it. Still, the longer you talked to this guy, the more you felt it.

“I was struggling to stand up on that board, that wave was huge!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. 

You hid your laugh with your hand, doubling over as he told his story. “You’re kidding?! How did you make it?” 

“Pure luck and ambition,” he shrugged, sipping his drink. “But I also learned maybe there’s a reason you shouldn’t surf during a thunderstorm,” he joked.

You agreed. “I’m glad you lived to tell the tale,” you reached over to touch his arm, gazing at him through your lashes.

His eyes flicked over your frame before he hummed out in agreement. “Me too”. 

Silence engulfed you for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped and only you and him were in existence. Letting the feeling in your tummy guide you, you leaned in. 

He followed, reaching over to place a hand on your waist and soon his lips were on yours. Your hand reached up to thread through his hair, deepening the kiss. 

You kissed for what felt like hours but in reality, it was only minutes. It was a soft and innocent kiss, but it felt so intense, so hot. You were fully making out with a stranger at a party and all you could worry about was the heating sensation igniting in your heart.

Unsure of it, you still didn’t want it to stop, unfortunately, it did.

“Watch out!” You heard Rafe scream as a ball flew over your head and bounced off the tree trunk. You yelped, heart racing at the thought that it could’ve hit you square in the face. Immediately, you saw Rafe jog over towards you. 

He was in his swim trunks, chest bare, and water dripping down his abs. 

You licked your lips unconsciously, the familiar feeling burning between your legs but you pushed it aside when you focused your attention back on the guy, making sure he was okay and he placed a hand on your knee in response.

“You okay, Y/N?” Rafe caught up to you. “Didn’t see you until the ball slipped from my hands,” he chuckled, running a hand over his head.

“I’m fine, Rafe,” you reassured.

“Didn’t realize you weren’t alone,” he cleared his throat, sending a glance to the guy.

“This is,” you placed your hand on top of his that was resting on your knee. You paused, realizing you didn’t know his name.

“Eric,” he answered with a smile. 

“Eric,” you repeated, unable to control your growing smile. You liked his name. Turning back to Rafe, you chose to ignore the frown on his face.

“Happy birthday, man,” Eric turned to Rafe. “Sick party,” he smiled and you grinned between him and Rafe. 

“Yeah, thanks, Y/N threw it for me,” Rafe said, his eyes flicking to yours before they rested back on the hand that was on your knee.

“No way, you have a talent,” he squeezed your knee and you felt your cheeks heat up.

You shrugged bashfully and you narrowly missed the snort that left Rafe. 

“I was about to head back inside,” Rafe pointed towards the house. “We were gonna get a few drinks,” he trailed.

“Okay, have fun,” you said. “I’m gonna chill out here with Eric,” you added, leaning into his side. You also chose to ignore the way his jaw clenched.

“Okay, sounds good,” he pressed his lips together in a smile before he made his way back.

Once he was out of your eyesight, you turned back to Eric, threading your fingers through his hair and resuming what you were doing before.

~

Rafe didn’t want to leave you tonight, especially on his birthday. But you had practically pushed him into the girl’s awaiting hands. He didn’t understand why you were so happy to do that, didn’t you see how more perfect you’d be in her place? 

Was he not obvious?

As he stared back at you, the smile adorning your lips, he knew the answer. Which is why he turned back around, allowing the girl to lead him to the pool. 

He tried to have a fun time, jumping in the pool with her. He could admit that she was attractive but nothing compared to you.

As he, the girl, Kelce, and her friend had a chicken fight, his mind continued to wander to where you might be. 

Kelce and Top were in the pool with him, meaning you were alone. You could’ve sat in one of the lounge chairs, enjoying the game, but when he glanced over, you weren’t there. The thought of you alone in the house irked him, what if someone spikes your drink or makes you uncomfortable?

Your laugh answered his prayers but another question came to mind, who was making you laugh?

He was about to jump out of the pool when the girl stopped him, handing him a shot of something while she pressed her boobs against him. He chuckled, taking the shot from her. He was distracted for a moment but then he heard your laugh again. 

This time he exited the pool, leaving the girl dumbfounded. It didn’t take long to find you but he wasn’t expecting you to be so far from the party, alone, with a guy.

He inhaled sharply. 

There was no way, right? He’s been drinking all night, his mind was painting a picture he didn’t want to see. But then the sight of you leaning in to kiss the guy, his hand sliding over your waist and yours fingering through his hair made that anger grow. 

To his side a few guys were kicking a ball around, without another thought, he grabbed it, throwing it in your direction. He knew it’d miss you but he still shouted out your name before he went running in your direction.

You pulled away from the guy, your eyes going wide as the ball hit the tree over your head. 

He checked on you, hoping the incident would make you open your eyes and realize you shouldn’t be spending the night with a stranger on your best friend’s birthday. But that’s not what you had done at all.

Instead, you snuggled up to the guy “Eric”, letting him keep his hand on your knee, and telling Rafe to have fun.

He swallowed down the jealousy, forcing a smile before making his way back to the house. The thought of you outside with him made his blood boil. Even more so when he snorted up a line in the kitchen a few moments later.

The white powder was the second thing that could calm him besides you. Still, he preferred you.

“Eric,” Kelce said the name in thought. “I don’t know an Eric,” he shrugged. 

“I mean look at her man, she seems to like him well enough,” Topper said, glancing at the way you were staring at the dude.

Wiping his nose, Rafe sent him a look. 

There you were, busting out in laughter again at something. “I don’t trust him,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes locked on you as you giggled behind your hand. 

When had you ever laughed like that towards him before? When had you ever been so focused on a guy other than him? 

“That’s for her to decide,” Kelce laughed. “And by the looks of it, she seems to trust him well enough,” he snickered behind his cup. 

Rafe grimaced, running his tongue over his teeth as Eric rubbed his hand along the exposed skin of your thigh. If he had known the short skirt he explicitly picked out for you would lead to that, he might’ve rethought the outfit entirely.

“Well I don’t, it’s my party, I can decide who’s attending and who’s not,” his gaze darkened and his friends sent him a look.

“Hey, man, Y/N’s having a great time. Are you sure you want to do that?” Topper asked, aware of what Rafe was implying.

“I know what I said,” he stated before he began walking towards you. He heard Topper mutter under his breath but he paid no attention to it.

“Oh, hi,” you turned to face your best friend who appeared in front of you. “Back so sudden?” You asked, gazing behind him where the house was still active. 

“Yeah, I was thinking it was time to head back inside,” he said. “It’s getting kinda cold,” he added.

“I’m fine,” you dismissed. “Do you need me for something or-” You were cut off by him.

“Nah, I just think it’s time for us to head back inside, it’s late,” he stated, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I said I was fine here, Rafe,” you said his name but he didn’t like the way you said it. 

He narrowed his gaze, running a hand over his mouth as he contemplated. “Get inside, Y/N,” he opted to say. The look on your face told him what you were thinking. “I mean it”.

“She said she’s fine,” Eric stood up, blocking Rafe from you. 

Rafe placed his hands on his hips, dropping his head down as he let out a chuckle. “I don’t remember asking you,” he jutted a finger into Eric’s chest. “Actually, I don’t remember inviting you to my party,” he grinned.

You stood behind Eric, frowning as you stared at your best friend. Even under the moonlight, you could see how blown out his eyes were. The knowledge didn’t settle with you. So you stepped around Eric, grabbing hold of Rafe’s arm to prevent anything from escalating.

“C’mon, Rafe, I’ll go,” you sighed.

He relaxed, smiling down at the hand that was intertwined with his and the other on his forearm. He glanced back up at Eric, sending him a look of victory. 

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Eric directed to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you blew out a breath. “It’s best if you go, Eric,” you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes and Rafe couldn’t help but grow angry at that. You shouldn’t be crying over a boy you met a couple of hours ago. With your statement though, Eric left. 

Rafe led you back into the house and he couldn’t help the feeling of pride swell as you clung to his arm.

You, on the other hand, tried to keep a smile on your face but you couldn’t feel the pang in your heart at what you missed out on. Why did Rafe need you back in the house? You wondered.

“C’mon, drink up, it’ll take your mind off of him,” Rafe handed you a cup with some type of liquor in it.

You sent him a look and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s my birthday,” he encouraged. “I want my best friend to be having fun too,” he grinned, pushing the cup into your hand.

You pressed your lips together. “Alright,” you sighed, giving in for the third time today. The bitter taste landed on your tongue and you cringed as it burned down your throat.

Rafe chuckled beside you, quickly pouring you another. “See, you’re having fun already”.

The longer the party went on, the more drinks you had. You weren’t drunk but you could feel the buzz. Reaching for a few of the snacks on the counter, you hoped you’d be able to sober up but Rafe had another idea.

“Let’s head up, yeah?”

You nodded, reaching for his hand as you began making your way up the stairs. You were still down about Eric, but you knew it was better than dealing with Rafe punching the life out of him. You didn’t enjoy his violent tendencies, especially when the white substance made it worse, but you tried to push past it, noting the good qualities he had.

He was loyal, smart, and confident.

Sometimes you wish that was enough for you.

You brushed past him as he opened his bedroom door for you. You found your bag on his bed, searching for his gift deciding now would be a good time to give it to him. Even though you were slightly pissed at him, he was still your best friend and it was his birthday.

He smiled at you when you sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you so he could sit. 

“Happy birthday,” you grinned, passing him the small box, and your shoulders pressed together. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he raised a brow but he took it from you nonetheless.

“Shh, just open it,” you laughed, watching as he did.

His gaze softened at the gold Rolex. He hummed out in delight, thanking you in the process.

“There’s an inscription,” you pointed at the expensive watch. 

He turned the watch over to find that there was. His thumb traced over the words you picked out.

Rafe, you’re worthy of everything. Love, Y/N.

His heart swelled at the sentence. He wasn’t often told he was worthy of anything so for you to say he was meant it all. “Thank you, Y/N,” he swallowed.

You could tell he appreciated the sentiment so you wrapped your arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Anytime for you, Rafe,” you smiled, gazing into his eyes. “What does the birthday boy want to do now? I’m sure the girls are waiting for you to rejoin them in the pool,” you smirked, standing up and walking over to the window. 

Part of you wished that Eric was still outside, but he was long gone. The other part of you already accepted the loss, knowing something worse could've come from it if Rafe had escalated things.

Which in the past, he’s done many times.

You turned back around to face your best friend.

“Nah,” he said after a pause. “I kinda wanna stay up here with you,” he said.

“I don’t think that’s much fun when the party is downstairs,” you pointed towards the window.

“Who says we can’t have a party of our own?” He smirked, holding a small bag in his hand.

“By all means, enjoy yourself, Rafe,” you chuckled. 

“It won’t be fun if you’re not doing it”.

“Rafe,” you warned. 

“C’mon, it’s my birthday,” he said.

“Just this once,” you rolled your eyes, deciding you could indulge for one night.

He smirked, standing up and guiding you to his desk. He lined one up for you, instructing you how to do it. 

You cringed at the feeling, moving from the seat and walking back to the bed as you rubbed your nose.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” he found his spot next to you, laying back on his bed. He folded his arms behind his head and you couldn’t help but peek at his lower abdomen that became exposed from his shirt riding up. “This is probably the best birthday I’ve had,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, why’s that?” You decided to humor him.

He sat up, leaning in close so his chest pressed against your shoulder. “I got the hottest girl in my room, wearing the most beautiful dress,” he sucked in a breath, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. 

Your face grew hot and you gulped. “You could have a hotter girl in here if you didn’t chase Eric away,” you bit, unsure why you said it.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re still sad about that?” 

“I’m just confused,” you breathed out. “I was having a good time with a cute guy, is that so wrong?” You asked.

“Yes,” he stated and your jaw went slack. 

“You’re kidding,” you laughed, shaking your head. 

“It’s your best friend’s birthday and instead of hanging out with him you’re kissing a dude you don’t even know?” He spoke with his hands, his movements becoming erratic and that had you worried. 

“Rafe, I spent the whole day with you, you were hanging out with that girl earlier, what happened to her? She was cute!” You exclaimed.

He stood up, walked over to the window and he ran a hand over his face. He was pacing back and forth in front of you as you shifted on the bed.

“You think I care about her?” He stopped in front of you. “I didn’t want to go in the fucking pool with her but I did because of you!” He shouted. 

You flinched. 

“I don’t give a fuck about any other person besides you!” He yelled. “And it fucking sucks when that feeling isn’t reciprocated by my own fucking best friend,” he huffed, chest rising.

Your heart dropped and felt a sting in the back of your eyes. You didn’t realize you were crying until a sob broke through you. 

Rafe stilled and he let out a sigh. “I-,” he inhaled, pressing his fist to his head. He dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “You don’t get it, okay? You’re the only one on my side, the only one who makes me feel like I’m not crazy,” he dropped his head to your thigh, his hands squeezing your sides like he was afraid you’d leave. 

“I care so fucking much about you,” you cried. “Everything I do is with you in mind,” you closed your eyes, your hands settling on his head as you began to run your nails along his buzzed hair. “This entire party, the entire day, I chose not to go to college so we could be close, I-,” you sucked in a breath, trying to decide what the point was. “I gave up on what I could have with Eric so you didn’t get upset,” you wiped your eye.

“What you could have?” He lifted his head to stare up at you. “What do you mean by that?” He leaned back. 

“Love, Rafe,” you answered.

“What about us?” He furrowed his brows. 

“Romantic love,” you elaborated. “Why do you think I’m always trying to hook you up with a nice girl?” You tipped your head to the side. 

You both stared at each other in disbelief before Rafe stood up, running his hand over his head. 

“I already told you I don’t want another girl,” he shook his head. “I want you,” he faced you again. 

You were left dumbfounded. 

“Are you honestly that blind?” He narrowed his gaze. 

This time, you stood up. “We’re friends, Rafe, nothing more!” 

He quickly stepped towards you, gripping your face in his hand firmly so you were forced to look at him. “You really think that’s all we’re meant to be?” He scoffed, flicking his gaze over you.

Your eyes were wide and you tried to push him off of you but he instead wrapped his other arm around you to keep you in place.

“Look at us, sweetheart,” he said. “If you really think all we’ll ever be is just friends, then you’re adorable,” he chuckled. “I think it’s about time you realize it was always meant to be us,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into yours. “Tonight was supposed to be perfect, I had it all planned,” he began. “Tonight was the night we were supposed to make things official,” he breathed out.

“Rafe,” you clutched his wrist, trying to pry his hand off of your face. “We’re just friends,” you restated, fear spreading over your eyes.

“We’re just friends,” he mocked you and you frowned, tears pricking in your eyes. “Stop playing dumb, for once, will you?” He taunted. “Did you think we’d go our entire lives without ending up with each other? Why do you think I’ve never dated anyone seriously, or you?” He tipped his head to the side.

Your stomach dropped. Is that why all the boys who were interested in you never lasted or never got the chance to properly ask you out? 

“We get each other, no one else will. We’re from good families and you’re the only girl my father will ever approve of,” he gulped. “So let me ask you again,” he inhaled. “Did you really think we’d never be more than just friends?” 

Your heart dropped. “Is that the only reason you want us to be together? Because of money and status?” You asked, voice shaky. “Am I just some silly pawn to get your father’s approval?” You felt a tear slip down your cheek but Rafe was quick to wipe it away with his thumb.

“Stop asking stupid questions,” he pressed his forehead against yours. 

You shakingly let out a breath, closing your eyes as more tears slipped. The proximity and his grip had you uneased. You were confused. 

“It’s always been you, Y/N,” he rubbed his nose against yours. 

Your breath hitched as you stilled, unsure how to respond. But it seemed like he already knew the answer to his own question. His silence is what caused the sobs to rack through your body.

“Hey,” he cooed, stepping back and letting go of you. “Don’t cry,” he used his thumbs to gently wipe under your eyes. “C’mere,” he wrapped his arms around you, allowing you to cry into his chest. 

It felt strange to be consoled by the man who brought tears to your eyes, yet, here you were. Still, there was nothing more comforting than Rafe, you thought.

He led you to sit back on the bed, bringing a tissue to wipe your face once you calmed down. “Cheer up, okay?” His lips curved into a smile. “It’s still my birthday, we should be celebrating”.

You nodded. “You’re right,” you inhaled, hoping this conversation would be left in the past.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple before he pinched your chin, guiding you to look up at him and before you knew it, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes widened and you tried to pull away but the angle you were in made you fear he could break your neck at the grip he had on your chin. Still, as his lips continued to move against yours, you couldn’t help but melt at his touch. 

This feeling was something you’ve been curious about for so long. The fire, desire, and passion that was enveloped in the kiss lit you up. It was intense. He loosened his grip on your chin, cradling the back of your neck as you moved your lips against his. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you moaned, but that was the wake-up call you needed. 

You quickly shoved him away, getting off the bed and creating some distance between the two of you. “You can’t do that!” You pressed your fingers to your lips and you still felt him there.

He stood up, stalking closer to you. With each step, you took one back. “What am I gonna have to do to get you to understand that I can?” He reached for you and he was fast, pulling you against him once more.

He was strong, you’ll give him credit for that and it was scary how you didn’t realize it before.

“Rafe,” you exhaled, turning your head away, feeling the intense presence of his stare.

“Am I gonna have to fuck you?” He hummed. 

Your eyes widened and you struggled to remove yourself from him again.

“I think I’m gonna have to fuck you to get it into your pretty head,” he chuckled, squeezing you tight so you’d stop moving. 

“No,” you shook your head, hands pressing against his biceps. “Rafe, please,” you pleaded.

“Oh, I love it when you beg,” he smirked. “But fine,” he loosened his grip on you. “Give me one night,” he proposed. “One night to show you it’s always meant to be this way, us,” he elaborated.

You dropped your gaze, blanking out as you contemplated. But he took your silence for an answer, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. You gasped, pulling away from him but instead, he pushed you back against the bed.

Crawling further up the bed to get away from him, you didn’t miss the way he looked at you like you were some prey he was getting ready to devour. He chuckled as he forced himself between your thighs, his hands slipping underneath your skirt and hooking around your panties.

It felt like such an out-of-body experience, your legs moving as he slid them off them, your thighs pressed against his shoulders as he laid before your cunt.

“We’d be so good together, sweetheart,” he said, hands kneading the soft flesh of your wonderfully thick thighs. “And I can make you feel just as good,” he said before he dipped his head down and licked a long stripe against your folds.

Your back arched at the feeling. You scratched your nails along his buzzed hair, a moan erupting from you as his tongue flicked around your sensitive bud. The feeling of his chuckle against you made you shudder and you felt embarrassed that he was finding your reaction amusing. 

“Just relax, don’t think too much about it,” he stared up at you before he licked another long stripe. 

You whined, squeezing your thighs around his head in hopes of getting him to stop but it was fruitless. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his focus on your clit as he wrapped his lips around it, sucking until you were a moaning mess beneath him.

Your imagination only took you so far when you thought about this. What it would be like when it would happen if it would ever happen–which you already decided it wouldn’t. But you were wrong about it all. It felt amazing, it was happening on his birthday, and it would happen.

But was it right? Did you want this? Your body was telling you yes but your brain was saying no. Rafe wasn’t the man you wanted to end up with, the man you wanted to have children with. But it seems like he made those choices for you and he was proving so with his tongue.

Staring up at the ceiling, you allowed your hands to rest at your sides, your chest heaving with each breath as you felt the pressure between your legs build. As your mind begged for release, it pushed all your confusing thoughts aside, allowing you to fall over the edge.

You gasped, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you came down from your high. 

Rafe licked up your wetness before kissing around your sensitive skin, nipping at your thigh. He pushed the skirt of your dress up, exposing more of your flesh, granting him the desire to kiss every inch as he made his way up your body.

Trying to process what had happened, you felt him unbutton the one button that held your cardigan in place. It took all your strength to swat his hand away.

“Rafe,” you tried to push him away but he didn’t budge. 

“What is it? What’s so wrong about this?” He asked, stopping his movements and holding himself up above you. “Are you going to tell me you never thought about us?” He dipped his head down, whispering against your ear. “Is it me?” He pulled his shirt over his head, a smile appearing on his face. “Because I see the way you look at me and I don’t think it��s me,” he smirked, grabbing your hand and placing it on his chest. 

The way you rubbed your thighs together and trailed your hand down his abs told him what you were thinking. Of course, you found him attractive, he was a Cameron and the Kook Prince, and he was athletic, muscular, and tall. 

What wasn’t there to like?

“It’s definitely not me,” he chuckled. 

“I can’t,” you forced yourself to say.

“Why not?” 

You didn’t answer so he kissed you. 

“You know how you said you want to repay me for this pretty dress?” He said in between kisses. 

Your breath hitched in response, knowing when you said that. 

“Get on your knees,” he ordered.

You glanced up at him before he urged you to slide off the bed to kneel in front of him. You knew it’d just be one night, he did say that after all, so you figured you’d get this one night over.

He stood in front of you, ridding himself of his clothes. He was naked in front of you and you felt your face heat up at the sight of his aching cock.

“Open,” he directed.

You bit on your lip, hesitantly holding your hands against your chest before you did as you were told and he rested the tip on your tongue, you instinctively wrapped your lips around him, one of your hands reaching up to wrap around the base of his dick.

Glancing up at him, you decided to move, the feel of his length pushing past your lips was interesting. It was strange that he was your best friend but at the same time, you pressed your thighs together for some friction.

You tried to take things slow but he wasn’t patient, instead, he pressed a hand to the back of your head, forcing the rest of himself down your throat. You gagged, feeling his balls press against your chin and he chuckled above you.

“You’re so adorable,” he smirked as he pulled back slightly before he pushed himself in again.

You reacted the same way, this time tears formed in your eyes. Your saliva pooled out of your mouth and you tried to swallow which earned a moan from him. His hands gripped your head, holding you in place as he began to fuck your mouth, the sound of your gagging filling the room mixed with his groans shouldn’t be making you wet but it was.

Pressing your hands against his thighs, you tried to push away, hoping to breathe through your mouth but he kept you there.

“Just relax,” he encouraged, moaning when you swallowed again, pressing your tongue against him. “You’re doing so good,” he groaned.

Digging your nails into his skin, he hissed and with one more thrust, you felt as he came down your throat, your face scrunching as you attempted to swallow it. He finally pulled away, leaving you to gasp for air followed by a fit of coughs. Your hands were pressed against your chest as you heaved.

He grabbed your face with his hand, pressing his lips against yours. The force of his hand on your jaw urged you to stand, his other hand framing the other side of your face as he deepened the kiss. You placed your hands on his arms, feeling weak and he was your only support.

His tongue slipped past your lips and he groaned at your taste. You felt lightheaded but thankfully he sat back on the bed, pulling you into his lap. He moved away from your lips, allowing you to glance up at the ceiling, your hands on his broad shoulders as you caught your breath.

Your eyes closed when he sucked on the skin behind your ear, one of your hands running up the back of his neck, your fingers curling over the soft buzz of his hair.

He undid the button of your cardigan, slipping it off your body and throwing it on the floor somewhere. Then he reached to the side where the zipper sat and undid it as well. He slid the spaghetti straps down your shoulders, pushing the fabric down to release your breasts.

The cold air hit your nipples, causing them to harden. He moaned at the sight, his hands cupping each in one, squeezing them, and rolling your hardened buds between his fingers.

You arched your back, pressing your chest further into his touch. You felt him lean down, wrapping his lips around your nipple, sucking gently. You felt hot to the touch, your nails running along his body wherever you wanted. 

Shifting in his lap, you felt him poke at you, his tip brushing with your clit and you shivered.

He switched to the other, doing the same and earning another trail of moans from you. He let it go with a pop, kissing back up your neck and along your jaw. “See how good we are together? Most friends aren’t even compatible, but we are,” he breathed against you. 

You stayed quiet but at this point, he wasn’t looking for an answer, this is how it was always supposed to go.

He guided the dress over your head, throwing it somewhere in the room before he moved you to lay on the bed, your head resting against the pillows. You allowed him to pry your legs open, your hands at your sides as you watched him settle between your thighs.

Realizing he didn’t have a condom on, you opened your mouth. “I’m not on birth control,” you stopped him.

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” he grinned.

You hesitantly let go before you rested back on the bed, nodding slightly.

He lined himself up at your entrance, his hands on your thighs as he pushed your knees to your chest. Slowly, he pressed himself into you and you scratched down his forearms at the feeling. 

“Shh, relax,” he encouraged. 

You took a deep breath in, it’d been so long since you had sex, the familiar pressure building between your legs as he pushed further in. Soon, his hips were pressed against yours and you felt his balls resting against you. It was a new feeling, being connected to somebody completely bare–raw. 

It was odd. But that didn’t stop you from clenching around him to urge him to move.

“See how perfect we fit?” He asked, reeling his hips back before he snapped forward, your nails digging into his skin as the pleasure flourished around you.

You whined, tracing your hand around his neck, pulling him down so his forehead was resting against yours. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he inhaled, continuing to fuck you. It was pure bliss, your thighs resting on his hips, spreading wider with each thrust, just like he always wanted. The noise of your wetness was heard in the room, the feel of your walls pulling him back in. It was so pleasurable, that he dropped his head down, running his nose along your neck. “Always been, always will,” he smiled. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, locking your legs together around his waist, your hands running down his back, your hips beginning to match each of his thrusts.

He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. “Do you see now?” He rested his forearms on either side of your head, framing your beautiful face. 

You gulped, hands resting on the curve of his back, your eyelids heavy as he fucked you deeply. 

He chuckled, knowing you were too dazed to answer. “All the times I’ve called you pretty, hot, they all went over your head, didn’t they?” He tipped his head to the side, a hiss escaping him when you squeezed around him. “Even now as I’m fucking you and your creaming around my cock, it still hasn’t stuck, has it?” His eyes shone brightly under his bedroom light, so blue they had you entranced.

That’s all you focused on as you came again, throwing your head back, your toes curling and, your nails leaving scratch marks on his back. 

Your orgasm fueled his, his body stilling against you as he came, releasing into your slick walls. You knew you’d have to worry about it tomorrow, part of you was scared for what was to come, but your body was so relaxed in the pleasure it experienced.

“This is how it was always meant to be,” he whispered, slowly pulling out of you and watching his release slip out of your cunt. “And I’m gonna fuck you until you understand,” he said and you were half-asleep that you didn’t even feel as he pushed it back in. “Thanks for the best birthday”.

~

Reblogs and comments are what keep writers writing so make sure to do so!

[mymyapplesigh]

How Soon Is Now ?

How far can obsession drive someone? In a world of myth, Clarisses obsession with you drives her more than the magic in her blood.

This is an interactive story so the person reading this is involved.

Warnings!: obsessed clarisse, dirty kinda thoughts, stalking, showering together, jealousy, picture taking

The water filled your own mind. The water filled your own thoughts and ideas. It flowed through your own locks of hair and played around your limbs.

The stars you saw in the country were different than the ones in the city. The yellow light mixing with the blue water made the blurry green light that was illuminating the pool.

It was a nice gesture for camp to make you your own pool though. Being the only child of Poseidon was hard. Every half blood at camp had a sibling which made them less lonely.

You didnt care that much though, at least you didnt have to share your cabin, or your pool. Your eyes felt heavy as the water soothed you to sleep, slowly getting rid of your thoughts.

You however werent aware of Clarisse in the other room. Her staring at herself in the mirror with a bikini on. She never even imagined herself in a bikini. All of this just to get your attention. To change your wild thoughts to you thinking of just her.

If there was one thing Clarisse wasnt, it was dumb. She knew youd never fall in love with a girl, much less her. I mean you had the biggest crush on Luke, but that didnt change the fact she had all of those pictures of you on her phone. You guys together, your selfies, you walking around camp, you sleeping, you changing, you.

As you felt the sleep pulling you in deeper you felt the water around you change. When your eyes opened you saw Clarisse step into the pool.

“Thought id join you.” Even though she wanted to say sorry for intruding your night swim, she never apologizes.

Your eyes traveled from her face and down her body. Youd never seen her in lude clothing before.

“Whats with the swim suit,” You said to her calmly as you change from your floating position to standing in the water watching her get in.

“Why? You see something you like ?” She asks in a teasing tone even though she really did mean it.

“Im just not used to seeing you in so….. less.” You responded to her question honestly. You started swimming to her slowly as now her whole body was in.

You wrapped your arms around her waste and put your head on her chest. Your ear was pressed on her heart and you heard her strong heart. As you kept listening to her heart you heard it quickening its pace. The water always calmed peoples heart rate so this was odd…

“Hey, you okay? You asked her.

“Im fine Y/n”

As you relaxed you felt her swim around as you were still wrapped around her. You liked being close with her. She was your best friend after all. When she came to a step in the pool she sat down. The rocky flooring of the pool was a pain to her ass though.

You were now sitting on her lap with your knees on either side of her legs. She didnt miss the fact you were also wearing a bikini however. Her eyes catching your chest and ass.

Her hands traced small patterns on your skin, some just plainly spelling out ‘i love you’, ‘love me’, or ‘mineminemine’.

Your breathing calmed her down. The feeling of your slow breathing made her relax and calm down too. She cradled your head as her usual temper her father gave her was just washing away since you were with her.

“Y/n, why do you even like Luke?” she asked as she felt the pang of jealously come over her again.

She seemed to have caught you off guard as you were quiet again. You knew why you liked him but you just couldnt put it into words.

“Well, hes cute, hes nice, hes got a good personality, and hes just different than any other guy. Hes just not an asshole Clar.”

She knew she could never compare to him. Her fathers temper and quick reactions taking over her before she could even think of anything else. Luke was more calm, he knew how to control his emotions and knew how to be a perfect boy, exactly what you would want.

After just soaking each other in more you both silently agreed you had enough and got out.

There was something weird about the washrooms. They were just all connected, the only thing dividing them being the dividers inbetween the showers. There were benches in the big room too. It was like those school locker rooms but bigger and with showers.

As you were about to step into one of the showers you stopped and turned around.

“Do you want to join me ?”

The question made her freeze. Her mind went blank as her head rappidly nodded.

Taking off your bikini you tossed it on the floor and waited for Clarisse to do the same. She seemed to have trouble with the top of her bathing suit top so you helped her take it off. Once she was nude too you closed the curtain of the shower stall.

It was pretty dark in the stall but she could still see your beautiful face. She watched the water from the shower head go over your shoulders and down your body.

Reaching for the soap you decided to wash her hair. Your long slim fingers scratching her scalp made her shoulders relax from its tense state.

Even though she was taller than you, you still managed to massage her scalp just right. Her groans started becoming quieter as you started giggling at her reactions.

She decided to wash your hair too as her fingers were perfect in your scalp.

When you both finished washing your bodies you got out. Deciding to do the rest of your routine in your cabin you dried yourself off and wrapping yourself with the same towel.

About to put on your pajama shirt, she stopped you.

“Wear mine instead.” She told you handing you her own 90’s band shirt.

“Thanks babe.”You said to her smiling at her.

She knew you called everyone that nickname but it still did something to her. Twisting her mind into thinking you are still hers.

Holding your hand with a light pink tint blush on her face she walked you back to your cabin.

When you finally got there she wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug. Even though she didnt want to let go, she finally did and sent you a small smile as she walked away.

In the silence of the night you smiled thinking about everything . Your best friend Clarisse, your own cabin, and your perfect crush; Luke.

In the silence of the night, it was interrupted. A boy was rushed to camp in the stormy night.

Asking people around you figured out what happened. A new kid killed a minatar.

And this was just the beginning of a stronger obsession with you.

[euovennia]

short and sweet | ghost/soap/könig

sorry to the anon that it took me so long to get out, i've been dealing with some stuff but here it is! thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairings: ghost x reader, soap x reader, könig x reader

warnings: bigotry, misogyny, people just being jerks, canon typical violence

summary: in which three buff military men become all too aware of your struggles. (based on this request)

simon 'ghost' riley

when the idea of simon having a crush comes to mind, i feel like he's one of those people who prefers to observe them from afar rather than have direct interactions with them

so that paired with the fact you're not in the 141 and you're mute, it's gonna take a very long while until you two start interacting, at least a few months after he realizes he's taken a liking to you

they'll usually be pretty short and sweet, but not in the typical sense you may be thinking of

i'm thinking something more along the lines of giving each other a small nod of acknowledgement when you pass each other in the shooting range; him having already practiced and you just barely walking in to start practicing

and honestly? he's completely fine with this arrangement

in fact he prefers it

he still gets a chance to give you a once over without getting distracted from the things he wants/needs to do throughout the day, he considers it a win

but when your target practice slowly begins to overlap with his, he's a bit surprised to find that he doesn't really mind it all that much

there's something oddly comforting about knowing you're just a few stalls down from him

and of course there's the added benefit of him getting to see you and your signature sniper rifle in action

for those of you wondering, yes, he's become quite aware of your talents

how could he not when soap made himself comfortable at his table during meal time and went on about, "a real cute girl and her impeccable aim."

soap's words, not his

and it continues on like this for a while, you two continuing on with your unofficially official meeting times

it becomes comfortable and familiar, two things simon isn't quite used to, but two things that he's quite content with

so he can't help but feel a little empty when you stop attending your unofficial meetings at the shooting range

he's more frustrated with himself than anything cause, let's face it, he's not the type to let himself get comfortable/familiar with just anyone so he's honestly more annoyed that he let himself get attached when he hasn't even made a move to properly talk to you (what a silly goose)

anyway, in true simon fashion he decides to deal with it by not dealing with it

in other words, he just kinda continues on with his routine because he's become so numb to the idea of people leaving his life (no matter how big or small of a role they played) that he doesn't bother acting out on any emotion he has if it does happen

and i think after a while he'll just kinda end up pushing you out of his mind (despite the fact his eyes are fully glued onto you whenever he sees you around base)

so when you walk into the range and make yourself cozy at your usual stall, he's a bit frazzled

so much so he ends up packing up his equipment and making a beeline for the exit

but it's at this moment he bumps into a particularly bratty group of recruits they'd gotten not too long ago

he has to practically hold himself back from snapping the poor kid's neck when he asks simon if he'd seen you enter the range

call it extreme, but the mocking smile that stretched across the recruit's lips as he said your name just ticked him off

simon is a man of intuition and so he can already tell something's not quite right so, curious, he just gives off a gruff, "yes," before waving them off

he's surprised that he manages to bite his tongue when he can hear of the recruits whisper a small, "what a fuckin' arsehole," as they walk away from him

anyway

cue him silently stalking after the group and being met with the sight of them crowded around you as you lay flat on your stomach, hands still steady on the rifle

he watches as you line yourself up to take the shot before eventually resting your hand on the trigger and pulling it, only to miss when one of the recruits purposefully kicks at your shin

another recruit makes herself comfortable beside you with a grin spread across her lips as her voice rings out in a mocking tone, "aw, poor thing missed her shot again. it's a wonder she's made it this far."

while his eyes narrow in confusion at your lack of response, it only eggs the girl on as she nudges your shoulder

"still can't talk, i see," she lets out a wistful sigh, "that's a shame. i think you'd sound really pretty screaming out for help on the field."

another recruit takes this as their chance to jump in, "guess we'll just have to leave her stranded. better for us anyway, no dead weight."

the girl by your side rolls her eyes, "we probably won't even get the chance to abandon her, she's so tiny. she'd probably get squashed like an ant before we could even try anything."

her remark elicits a laugh from the small group of recruits, but ghost certainly isn't smiling when he approaches the group and stares down at them with his trademark glare

they can definitely feel their souls leave their bodies when they look up and see him standing over them menacingly

it gets even worse when he opens his mouth, "that any way to talk to a fellow soldier?"

they all just kinda stumble onto their feet at his words, not bothering to say anything as their eyes remain pretty much glued to the floor

he's not having it though so he'll repeat his question, tone louder and meaner than before which causes one of the recruits to just let out a meek, "no sir."

too bad it was the one who insulted him earlier cause he immediately steps in front of them and just kinda, "what? arsehole not good enough an insult for ya?"

you, still lying on the ground and watching everything unfold, can't help the small smile that tugs at the edge of your lips as you witness the way the man's face visibly pales

upon receiving no response from him, simon straightens out his posture before point over to you and speaking once more, "you better pray that girl is more forgiving than i am, because if it were me, you'd all be covering your own asses out on the field."

he watches with great joy as they each begin to shift on their feet uncomfortably before dismissing them in a gruff voice

after making sure they left, simon makes his way back over to you who is still lying on the ground with your rifle as you line up your shots once more

he feels a small wave of pride overcome him when you hit your target perfectly

so much to the point where he walks over to you and spills out a quick, "good aim," to which you'll look up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours and give him a small nod of acknowledgement

his eyes narrow, "you don't talk much, do you?"

you simply shake your head

he'll give you a quick once over before looking down at his watch and realizing the dining hall will be closing soon

tempted as he is to just walk away, he can't help but wonder if you'd already ate

so he speaks again, "dining hall is closing in a bit. you're free to join me if you haven't eaten yet, was just on my way."

you pause for a bit and give it a bit of thought before nodding and packing up your stuff before eventually walking out of the range with simon by your side

you don't have the heart to tell him you already ate

but when you look up and see him quickly avert his eyes from you and onto the pavement beneath your feet, you don't see why you even would

john 'soap' mactavish

when i tell you this man was gone the moment he saw you, i mean he was GONE

he genuinely couldn't believe someone as sweet and lovely as you could exist in the same space as him

but the moment he sees you shoot that gorgeous little rifle of yours with a precision that could only be described as pure, raw perfection? it's over. he's all in.

i'm talking, 'fuck me up and send me straight to heaven. this is how i die.'

he's so down bad for you it's insane

and i imagine soap can be quite confident and charming when he wants to be so best believe he'll have no problem in walking straight up to you and trying to strike up a conversation

i'd like to put emphasis on the 'trying' part of that last bit because it becomes quite clear quite quick that you're don't talk

well

maybe the 'quite quick' part isn't so accurate because it probably takes him a minute or two before he finally catches onto the fact you don't talk

in other words, it takes you pulling out your phone and looking up a volume muted symbol and pointing at it before motioning to yourself for him to catch on

he just kinda makes an 'oh' face before letting out a small chuckle and saying something like, "i see now, why didn't ya just tell me that before?"

and you're just looking at him like ???

but he's looking at you like :)))

yeah he's being a little ridiculous right now, but he just got back from a long mission and he's quite sleep deprived so don't mind him he's just being a silly goose, ok?

but truth be told, that dumb little first interaction doesn't even really matter in the long run because it's the bold initiative on his part that makes it so easy for the two of you to become friends

you spend a lot of time hanging around one another and your once carefully planned, scheduled days turn into unpredictable blurs that are jam packed with soap getting the two of you into trouble

i imagine you've become quite familiar with the stoic face of captain john price

but really, how could you not?

especially when soap catches onto the fact that price is more inclined to let soap off with a warning for whatever trouble he's got himself mixed up in whenever you're around

he may be older than the rest of his team, but he knows that dopey grin soap's got plastered on his face whenever he's around you means he's extra sweet on you

and who is he to stand in the way of his boy's happiness with some extra chores?

he's a total dad <3

anyway

because you spend a lot of time around soap, i think it's fair to say that you sometimes end up pushing off work in favor of hanging around the scotsman

and really who could blame you?

he's got a dazzling smile, a charming accent, and a sparkling personality. you'd be a fool not to soak up all the time you can get with him

but that just means whenever he does end up leaving for missions, that's when you really buckle down and start getting all your piled up work done

it can be frustrating and a bit of a bother, but knowing your schedule will be completely free (at least for a little bit) as soon as he gets back is more than enough to get you through the tedious work load you've allowed yourself to accumulate

only this time it's a bit harder to remember that

and it's all because of your newly assigned CO

he's a bit of an older man, which isn't a bad thing

at least until you find out that his mindset lines up with the ideology of a 1950's working husband

you know, the kind of guy who believes it's a man's job to go out and work a job to provide for his family while his wife stays home and takes care of the children, house, and meal prepping

in other words

a complete and utter bigot

so between trying to complete all the work you'd so foolishly neglected in your time hanging out with soap and trying to stop yourself from snapping your superior's neck every time he grabbed your rifle from your hands with a condescending, "careful! wouldn't a small thing like you hurting yourself with this," it's no wonder you couldn't remember that today was the day soap was returning from another one of his top secret missions

in fact, the thought doesn't occur to you at all until soap pulls up a chair beside your desk and makes himself comfortable while you're looking over some paperwork your darling CO had left you because he, "works too hard and needs a break."

more like a break in his skull, but to each their own

anyway i can definitely imagine soap carrying around a small notebook that you use to communicate with him when you can't be bothered to watch him try and fail to decipher your hand movements

and yes, he totally brings it on missions with him just so he can open it up and trace over your handwriting with a gentle touch and a soft smile and oh my god imagine confessing to him like that (i'm kinda dying to write an imagine based on that now (mute or non-mute reader, i'm down for either tbh) so lmk if you're interested!)

anyway

when the two of you break apart from your usual 'welcome back' hug, he'll slide the notebook over to you as a simple question falls from his lips, "since when do you do paperwork?"

and this just prompts you to let out a huff and roll your eyes before snatching up the notebook/pen combo and writing out all your frustrations on the pages

it's safe to say this man is absolutely floored when he reads through it all

frustrated and angry as he is, he doesn't outwardly express it

he simply grabs the heap of paperwork sitting on your desk and promptly tosses it into the nearest recycling bin before grabbing your hand and leading you off to something completely unproductive and time wasting

it's exactly what you need

the night will eventually end off with him walking you to your room and offering you a sweet hug with a small lil kiss to your head

it's adorable, really <3

what's not so adorable is the way he barges into price's office with the notebook in hand before tossing the pages where you'd detailed your CO's behavior onto his desk

price reads through them and best believe all this man can see is red

as someone who takes pride in becoming a role model for those who work under him, he can barely believe of the things he's reading

he's so ready to throw hands

but he can't sadly

so he settles for the next best thing

COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS, COMPLAINTS

with how ruthless price is in his mission to humiliate this man, it's really no surprise when you eventually find out he's been fired

the moment you and the rest of your unit get the news, you practically run all over base to find soap

and the moment you do, you've pretty much tackled him to the ground in a hug

and he simply wraps his arms around you, that same dopey grin price teases him for stretched onto his lips because he knows and he couldn't be happier

he's just happy you're happy <3

könig

so because of his affiliation with KorTac, i like to imagine that you're part of another PMC group that tends to help each other out on missions whether it be due to mission overlap, or just needing some extra support

but despite this, i imagine it would take quite some time before you and könig even meet simply due to the fact that you're almost never assigned to be sent out on the field

and if i'm being honest, i can definitely see not a single member of KorTac having even the slightest clue that you exist until you're randomly brought onto the field one day during a particularly tricky mission

long story short, könig and a few other of his team members got ambushed and they needed all the help they could get which is where you come in

granted they don't actually see you until you all meet back at base, safe and sound as can be

while könig and his team are surprised by the new face, they're even more surprised to learn that you've been part of the team for nearly eight whole months

when asked about why they've never seen you on the field before, the answer is simple; "she's been doing other missions," which you've come to learn essentially means, "she's still in training because we don't trust her to be on her own yet."

and while the other members of KorTac seem to just take that simple explanation at face value, könig can't help but notice the way your face falls and shoulders slump upon hearing it

and it's at this moment he realizes he hadn't seen you anywhere on the field at the time, so where the hell were you?

he decides he needs to be more attentive

so the next time KorTac calls on your group for some extra assistance, he's keeping a sharp eye out there in hopes that he'd see you

but he doesn't

even so, he still holds out hope for next time

and the next

and the next

and the next

okay this is ridiculous

where the hell were you?

he knows you're going on the missions with the rest of the team because you're always there when everyone gets back to base, still dressed in your tactical gear and wiping off the dirt that seemed to cling onto your uniform

so why did he never actually see you?

he's a tall guy so surely, he, out of anyone, should be able to pinpoint your location on the field with a few simple turns of his head, right?

well apparently not

you're practically a ghost (hehe see what i did there)

his frustration with not knowing where you're at on the field has him going mad

he so desperately wants to just come out and ask you directly, but he's convinced himself that you'll somehow take offense to such a question so he decides against it

so he decides to settle on the next best thing

which is pretty much just endlessly staring you down on the field before you eventually disappear off to god knows where

it's not the smartest idea he's ever had if the way you seem to squirm under his piercing gaze is anything to go by, but he just can't seem to help it

especially not when he comes to notice just how pretty you really are

the soft slope of your nose, the curve of your jaw, the way your cheeks puff out so cutely when you're finally able to get your hands on a much needed snack after a particularly long mission

you're stunning, how could he not stare?

yeah he's definitely got a little crush

but he'll never admit it

especially not with the amount of teasing horangi throws his way whenever you enter the room

anyways i think i'm getting ahead of myself here, let's get back on track lol

i imagine it all comes to a head on the battlefield

one moment könig is going at it with no more than three enemy soliders, but it seems within the blink of an eye those numbers have nearly tripled as he sees a sizeable group of enemy soldiers heading this way

he knows he's more than capable of holding his own in close combat, but with this many people? he can't help but feel a little uneasy as he sees the group grow closer and closer

that is, of course, until the unmistakable sound of a rifle fires through the air and the group of soldiers who were previously approaching him steadily begin to fall to the ground, a pool of crimson blood flowing from their heads

könig's eyes catch onto a bright red laser making small patterns on the ground in front of him so, curious, he looks up to find the source of the light coming from under a pile of rubble located on the roof of a building

upon making eye contact with the small area, the red laser pointer goes dead and you quickly poke your head out from your self appointed hiding spot and offer him a small 'ok' motion with your hand before concealing yourself back into your spot once more

he swears his heart soars at the sight

satisfied with himself and your stellar aim, his mind becomes preoccupied with the mission once more, a newly placed sense of vigor in his attacks

but when everyone is cozying up in the common area after the mission's been completed (with the exception of you bc you're taking a shower), könig decides he can't hold himself back from asking a certain question that's been on his mind for a long time

so he simply decides to go for it and ask, "why hasn't she been assigned to our missions before?"

your teammates all look at each other for a few moments before one of them pipes up, "didn't think she was ready."

another one decides to offer their input, "there are times we still don't think she is, but our captain told us to bring her in anyway."

könig and the rest of those present from KorTac's confusion must be apparent because one of the other members of your team decides to speak out, "she was still a bit rocky when she first came to us. we just wanted her to polish up on her skills before we sent her out on an official mission. it's more out of worry than anything."

the explanation calms the small bout of worry that had infested his mind when they first offered their reasoning for not including you on missions, but he can't help but feel a little pit grow in his stomach

so he decides to speak up once more, "well i think they're capable. perhaps it's time you trust them more."

one of your teammates brows raise, "you think so?"

he nods, "took out a whole group of soldiers that were coming at me, i'd probably be done for if it weren't for them."

he finds the look of shock on their faces amusing as they ask, "how?"

könig leans back, "they were hiding in some rubble on one of the buildings. took them out with a sniper."

he watches a look of realization come over their faces as one of them exclaims, "i thought they were running around the field, not hiding!"

horangi decides to pipe in, "you didn't know? she's always running around the rooftops. i see her all the time."

your teammates practically implode on themselves at his revelation before they start hounding him for questions, ones he graciously answers

könig watches with a small smile hidden under his hood before he can see a small movement of the corner of his eye

he turns his head and sees you peering over at him with a small smile and he watches as you sign out a quick, "thank you," with your hands

he sucks in a sharp breath before bringing up his hands and signing back a shaky, "you're welcome"

his hidden smile widens as he watches your eyes glisten with delight, "you know sign?"

he's quick to respond, "since i was little."

horangi is the one to give his arm a harsh nudge when könig all but freezes upon seeing what you sign to him next

"would you like to join me for dinner?"

[elryuse]

Yandere wonyoung x male childhood friend. But this time both YN & Wonyoung had a good & happy ending.

HAPPY ENDINGS

YANDERE WONYOUNG X MALE READER

The hallway echoed with the rhythmic clack of Wonyoung's patent leather loafers. Her dark school uniform, tailored to accentuate her impossibly small waist, seemed to billow with an unseen wind as she stalked towards Y/n. His deep laugh, punctuated by the giggles of his girlfriend, Jihyo, grated on Wonyoung's nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

They used to be inseparable, Y/n and her. Crawling through mud puddles, building sandcastles that vanished with the tide. But high school brought new priorities, and Jihyo, with her warm smile and infectious laughter, had become Y/n's new companion.

Wonyoung stopped a few feet behind them, her meticulously styled dark hair framing a face that could switch from cute to chilling in a heartbeat. Her usually large, doe-eyed gaze narrowed into slits, the playful glint replaced by a cold, predatory gleam.

Jihyo, sensing the shift in atmosphere, turned around, a smile faltering on her lips. "Oh hi, Wonyoung! "

"Hey," Wonyoung replied, her voice a saccharine syrup laced with venom. "Nice… picnic for two?" Her eyes lingered on Jihyo's hand, innocently intertwined with Y/n's.

Y/n, ever oblivious, turned around with a goofy grin. "Wonyoung! Didn't see you there. What's up?"

Ignoring Y/n, Wonyoung leaned in, her voice a chilling whisper that only Jihyo could hear. "He doesn't belong to you. Not anymore."

Jihyo, pale and trembling, mumbled a quick goodbye and practically ran away. Wonyoung watched her go, a satisfied smirk curling her lips. Now, it was just her and Y/n.

"What was that about?" Y/n asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Wonyoung's smile disappeared, replaced by a mask of vulnerability. "I just miss us, Y/n. Remember those times when it was just me and you?"

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We can still hang out, Wonyoung. It's not like Jihyo replaced you."

Replaced. The word sent a spike of murderous possessiveness through Wonyoung. Replaced? He was hers, always had been, even if he couldn't see it.

"But it's not the same," she whined, her voice thick with feigned sadness. "She doesn't understand you like I do."

Y/n opened his mouth to protest, but Wonyoung cut him off. Tears welled up in her eyes, but they were cold, devoid of real emotion. "Do you even remember what happened the last time you told me you liked someone else?"

Y/n's eyes widened. A shiver ran down his spine as he recalled the "accident" that had mysteriously broken his first girlfriend's leg, effectively ending their relationship. Wonyoung, ever the concerned friend, had been there to comfort him then too.

Suddenly, the seemingly innocuous childhood games of hide-and-seek and truth-or-dare took on a sinister hue. Was it a coincidence that every girl Y/n showed interest in ended up ostracized or worse?

Terror replaced confusion in Y/n's eyes. He took a hesitant step back, but Wonyoung was quicker. Before he could react, she grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"Don't worry," she whispered, her voice sweet but laced with a chilling possessiveness. "Now that you remember, we can be happy again. Just you and me, like it always should have been."

Y/n was trapped. He had to play along, at least for now. But a small seed of defiance bloomed in his heart. He had to find a way out of this twisted game of love and fear.

As Wonyoung linked her arm through his, her perfect smile masking the darkness within, Y/n knew this was just the beginning of a terrifyingly sweet nightmare. Sleep became a stranger, replaced by the constant vigilance of not upsetting the delicate balance of Wonyoung's affection.

Nights were filled with whispered threats disguised as promises, and days a suffocating routine of Wonyoung orchestrating every aspect of their lives. Yet, amidst the terror, a strange realization dawned on Y/n. Wonyoung, for all her twisted devotion, cared for him deeply, in her own warped way.

One stormy night, as Wonyoung held him close, her grip tighter than usual, Y/n decided he couldn't live like this anymore. He had to take a chance.

"Wonyoung," he said, his voice barely a whisper. She looked at him, her eyes filled with a manic adoration that sent shivers down his spine. "Yes, Y/n?"

"I… I know you care about me," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "But this, us being like this… it's not healthy. It scares me."

Wonyoung's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing her features before it was masked by a pout. "Why does it scare you, Y/n? Don't you trust me?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," he said, taking a deep breath. "It's just that… I don't think this is love. This isn't the way friends treat each other."

The words hung heavy in the air, a challenge to the twisted reality Wonyoung had constructed. A tear rolled down her cheek, this one seemingly genuine. "But I love you, Y/n. I always have."

"And I care about you too, Wonyoung," he said, reaching out to gently wipe away her tear. "More than you know. But maybe… maybe our love can be something normal. We can be friends again, the way we used to be."

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Y/n braced himself for another outburst, for the possessiveness to resurface. But instead, Wonyoung surprised him.

A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Do you think… do you think that's possible?"

Y/n saw a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, a glimpse of the girl he used to know, hidden beneath the layers of possessiveness. He squeezed her hand gently. "It won't be easy, Wonyoung. You have to trust me."

A long moment passed, filled with unspoken emotions. Finally, a small smile bloomed on Wonyoung's face, hesitant at first, then widening. It wasn't the chilling, calculated smile he was used to. This was a genuine smile, filled with a newfound hope.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I trust you."

The road to normalcy was long and arduous. Therapy sessions became a regular part of their routine, Wonyoung slowly learning to manage her obsessive tendencies. The fear that had crippled Y/n gradually receded, replaced by a cautious trust.

The childhood games they used to play took on a new meaning. Hide-and-seek became a playful chase, not a test of dominance. Truth-or-dare became a bridge to rebuild their fragile friendship.

It wasn't always sunshine and rainbows. There were arguments, relapses, and moments where the old darkness threatened to resurface. But through it all, they held onto the fragile thread of trust they had built.

Years passed, and their relationship blossomed into something beautiful and unexpected. The possessiveness morphed into a fierce loyalty, the obsessive need to control transformed into a supportive partnership.

One day, under the shade of the same tree where they used to play as children, Y/n knelt before Wonyoung. In his hand, a simple silver ring sparkled in the sunlight.

"Wonyoung," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "we've come a long way. You're no longer just my childhood friend, you're the strongest, most amazing person I know. Will you marry me?"

Wonyoung's eyes welled up with tears, this time tears of genuine joy. A thousand emotions flooded through her – fear, doubt, and a happiness so profound it took her breath away.

She looked at the ring, then back at Y/n, her childhood friend, now the love of her life. With a shaky breath and a smile that could rival the sun, she whispered, "Yes, Y/n. Of course I will."

Their wedding wasn't a grand affair, just a small gathering of close friends and family. But the love that filled the air was more potent than any fireworks display. Wonyoung, no longer the yandere schoolgirl, stood beside Y/n, a woman who had conquered her darkness and found love in the most unexpected of places.

[urwifebabes]

A/N: I’m still doin requests, just wanted to make this at the moment

“THE DEVIL HIMSELF?”

relationship(s): ink demon x Joey drew!daughter

Warning(s): smut, stalking (abit)

drip. drip, drop. that’s all you could hear. over and over. why couldn’t you see? what’s going on? you finally opened your eyes to find yourself in a bed, but not your bed. where were you? you sat up and felt your head, god, you had a massive headache.

you thought over what could’ve possibly happened before you fell asleep and then you remembered. you had came back to your fathers abandoned workshop to visit bendy and the others. you had grown quite a lot but you believed they would still remember you. you were 10 when they last saw you.

you were now 21 , only 11 years? not too long you hope. you had gotten out the bed and began to creep out the door. you seen a black dog/wolf. Boris! you went over and hugged him. he looked at you and pulled you off softly. “ma’am? who are you?” you were shocked for a moment before you uttered the words that stopped Boris in his tracks.

“Y/N Drew.”

he hugged you tightly, sniffling. “Y/N, we missed you so much!!” you hugged him back and shook your head at his words, feeling little tears build at the corner of your eyes to. he quickly sat you at the table before he pulled out some type of soup, asking if you were hungry. you quickly shook your head, you didn’t wanna be rude but you already knew it was probably very very veryyyyy old. I mean they can drink it of course, but you’d probably get sick.

“so.. how’s Joey?” you shrugged “fine, he’s doing fine..” Boris looked at you. “why say it like that, hun?” you looked at him. “I guess.. I never quite got over how he left you guys..” he nodded, not saying anything more. you quickly got up, realizing something.

“Where’s Bendy?!.. where’s Alice?!”

he looked at you and sighed. “they are.. not who they used to be. they fell apart after everyone abandoned us.” “.. what happened?” “they turned demonic and empowered.. that’s why I’ve been hiding here.”

“oh.”

you had left the little hiding place with Boris and was now walking around the warehouse. you felt so bad watching the once shiny and glimmering walls now filled with thick ink. you looked around high and low, finding tapes of your fathers coworkers.

you ran across Alice’s territory and she stopped you, asking you to be her little ‘errand girl’. you denied but you didn’t have much of a choice. she began to give you instructions as you did it, no questions asked. you just.. you just wanted to know and see your friends again.

Alice had instructed you to the deepest darkest part of the warehouse to find the ‘devil himself’ so she could rule this place. by herself. you wondered who the devil was. you just knew it wasn’t your sweet innocent Bendy. that cute little devil. you walked through the thick ink, cringing at the feeling of the ink on your legs.

you had came to a door and this.. this thing came out the ink and tried to grab you. you screamed and ran while you heard it hurriedly following you. you ran and ran, more and more of those things were popping out of little things of ink of the ground. they ran you straight into the room where the ink demon sustained himself in. he wasn’t in there at the moment though.. not like you even knew that was his room. great.

you took a breath, not knowing where you had gotten yourself into. what room was this? who’s room was this? questions filled your head so quickly. it was to ‘inky’ for you to tell. you could see a bed though. atleast it looked comfortable.

you took a seat on the bed. you looked over yourself, noticed how you were almost completely covered in ink. you grimaced as you attempted to wipe it off your face. seems like those things were afraid to come in here. you rolled your eyes as you thought over you situation. you haven’t even found Bendy yet and Alice is still waiting on you to find the ‘Devil himself’ - the Ink Demon.

“fuck, one of those things scratched my leg!” you seethed before you got up and went out the room. you looked around and sighed with relief. no fucking monsters. you slowly walked to the infirmary. it took you awhile to get there since the gash on your leg was pretty bad. you finally got there and sat, putting a towel in your mouth as you grabbed the alcohol and bandages.

you wiped the tears off your cheek as you got off the infirmary bed, you headed back to the task at hand. finding the devil himself. you walked around the ink filled rooms with no sign of horns at all. you sighed as your got tired of walking. you found a halfway decent room and sat down. just then, you saw eyes watching you.

you quickly sat up as they began to move around. you followed the eyes, only to see it was one of those monsters, watching. you wondered why he didn’t attack? maybe he was ordered not to by Alice. you quickly followed the little monster and hid behind a wall as he walked right in front of a tall horrific .. demon. you couldn’t help but think that was the devil.

you sat there and watched as Bendy listened to the groans and grunts of the monster, seemingly understanding. you had moved your foot which made the ink slosh. the demon instantly looking up at you. your heart stopped. you guys locked eyes for a few moments(even though you couldn’t see his eyes) before you snapped out of it and began to run, scared. he was scarier than Alice!

you ran, the hard pitter patter, being heard through the murky ‘water’. you heard his minions following you rather then himself. pussy. you thought as you ran a corner, knocking straight into a rock hard chest. your heart stopped. you slowly looked up to see him, smiling over you.

you gulped as you backed up abit. “Bendyyy..! hi, buddy, remember me?” you asked as he looked at you - no, stared at you. he came close and his hand slowly landed on your face as his gruff voice came out. “Y/N?..” you quickly nodded. “yea, yes, bends, it’s me!”

before you guys could begin to talk, he was carrying you, bridal style. you came inside that room you were in earlier with that bed. ah, so this was his room. he dropped you on his bed, before he wanted no time, ripping off your clothes. your eyes widened as you covered yourself. “What are you doing?!”

he quickly shut you up though. his head inbetween your soft plush like thighs as he ate you out. his slimy black tongue trailing between your clit and your unused hole. he kissed your inner thighs before his mouth came right back to your dripping core, sucking your swollen bud. he deemed you wet enough after awhile.

he took his achy cock out. the tip gray, swollen, with a bit of pre-cum, already licking. you sat up abit as you seen it. it had to be atleast 11 inches! he took a look at you and seen your growing nerves as he stroked his lengthy cock. “shhh.. be a good girl and atleast try, okay?”

you reached between the two of you and stroked his cock a few times causing a growl to escape his lips. from him already slicking you up, he pushed inside, no problem… until he tried to thrust more inside. you held onto his arms, the ink beginning to drip down your hands. you took a sigh and Bendy chickled before he pushed himself deeper into your soaked hole. you let out a whimper as you looked up at him, desperately.

his cock was swallowed by your tight hole. he growled as he fucked into you like you were some rag doll he had found. his hard cock finally pushed all the way inside, you choked out a sob as your gummy walls stretched to accommodate him. you moaned out his name as he started moving faster, his tail rubbing your clit deliciously. making you squirm.

your pussy was quivering as you had squirted on his cock and chest about 3 times already while he hadn’t cum twice. he switched your position, flipping you on your stomach as he slid into you once more, making rough and passionate love to your hole. his hands came up to your tit and squeezed. loving the feeling of the flesh between his ungodly hands. you moaned loudly as he bit into your shoulder, cumming into your womb.

you took deep breaths as your vision began to blacken and you faintly saw Bendys shadow walking out the room after covering you. after that, you were out far too soon.

TAGS : @2faced-fairy @alyssalololol

[blehrbie-blog]

Neteyam x Reader story

Sooo, I haven't written anything in genuine years. But after watching Avatar:TWOW I've become hyperfixated and have been scrolling and refreshing the Neteyam x Reader tag basically since the movie came out. As a consequence I've had this idea in the back of my mind that I thought was very sweet and cute (something we all need after that movie) so I decided to sit down and give it a go and see what comes out of my brain. So here it is. I haven't properly edited it and it's pretty much a 1000 words of word vomit and a bunch of time skips but it made me happy to write so I'm sharing it.

Oh, BTW SPOILERS!! but also I don't stick to the event's of the movie so idk I'm just putting it out there in case someone hasn't watched the trailer.

So the idea is our girl meets Neteyam informally for the first time when they're 9. She gets cornered in the jungle by a Palulukan and Neteyam helps her run away from it. She had always known who he is being the firstborn son of the Toruk Makto. She remembers her mom telling her about the big ceremony the Tribe had when he was first born. Everyone knew him.

- You shouldn't go into Palulukan territory without being careful - he says, looking a bit unsure about her now that there's no imminent danger.

- I didn't know I was in its territory

 - Don't wander off too far on your own then.

___________________________

After this meeting, you get closer and become friends, which means as a consequence you occasionally hang out with the rest of Neteyam's family. However, as he gets older and his Dad starts preparing him to be a warrior and later on Lo'ak as well you don't have as much time to spend as you once did laughing and roaming around in the jungle exploring thick forests and shallow pools of water. It's not like you have nothing to do with your life, you do! You've been thinking of taking up lessons from the Tsahik, to see how you can use the spirit of Eywa and nature to help people who are hurting. It just so happens that the Tsahik is Neteyam's grandmother so you sometimes end up seeing him come back from a mission with his father and you share sweet smiles from across the camp.

When the tribe moves to the floating rocks, you are required by the Tsahik to help those injured from the journey and the ones getting used to the new terrain. So you're even more often in the same circles. As you're working one day about to go over to help Ninat with her sprained ankle, someone taps you on the shoulder

-You seem busy with work. - says Neteyam smiling sweetly at you

-Oh! Yes, I was just about to start. How's your training going?

You hadn't spoken in a while, just a quick wave or nod when crossing paths throughout the day. You hadn't noticed but he towers over you by a couple inches now. He nods towards his dad who's speaking with Neytiri at the edge of their tent.

-You know, just the usual responsibilities of carrying on the legacy. - His eyes gaze into you softly, like he's memorizing your face after not seeing it for long. He shakes it off and looks down - Have you got many tasks today?

-Not too much actually, just need to check up on Ninat and prepare some medicinal salves.

- I want to see you later – He looks back up into your eyes and smiles – Maybe we can go on one of our expeditions like before.

You chuckle – Sure, I'd love that.

With a final nod of approval, he stalks away to his parent's side.

When you meet later towards sunset he's waiting patiently with his Ikran by the vines connecting the Hallelujah Mountains to the Jungle below.

-We won't go too far out into the jungle so we have time to come back before sunrise. - He says as he connects his Queue with the Ikran and gazes at you expectantly – Hop on.

Can I trust that I'll come back alive from this flight? - you raise a skeptical eyebrow. He only went through his Iknimaya ritual not too long ago.

He reaches out a hand to help you up onto the animal – I don't think Eywa would forgive me if I wasted you on a simple flight.

You smile warmly into his shoulder as you hold tight onto him feeling the powerful animal shift under you as you fly out.

Roughly 10 years later

____________________________

When he comes back from the Mitkayina islands. He's taller and broader and his hair is much longer pulled into a loose braid around his Queue. You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you first see him. He's magnificent and commanding in his presence. The tribe has gathered all around to accept him and Jake back with a warm welcome. And even though you're hidden by your fellow Na'vi, his eyes immediately find you in the crowd and issue an eager and warm smile on his face.

As soon as he has settled the greetings with the current Olo'eyktan and the Tsahik, he finds you – walking to your sleeping pod. You would have gone to say hello and see him up close but, honestly, you were a bit intimidated. What you now knew was a childhood infatuation with him all those years ago still couldn't handle seeing him all of a sudden in all his... perfect glory. You were a little intimidated. But that doesn't stop him from reaching out for you. You see him jog over with a grin. He grabs you by the shoulders about to pull you into a hug but stops himself at the last moment. His eyes roam you over from head to toe and he looks up with glistening eyes -You've grown! - His tone sounds almost unbelieving

-That tends to happen as time passes, yes – you chuckle, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. His strong arms.

-I'm not too sure what I expected you to look like but you're... way beyond any expectation – He sounds so awe-struck as he's still taking you in, that you start to feel a little embarrassed.

-I can say the exact same thing – You say as you meet his gaze again. As you do his face softens and he brings you into his arms finally.

-I missed you, my friend.

Your hand caresses his hair gently – I missed you too.

You break apart and you decide to go for some late food with him abandoning your plans of sleep.

_______________________

Months later, when they have their first kiss. It's a slow thing. He will say something dry-humoured in his soft voice and she'll forget to laugh too busy staring at him, realizing how in love she is. And has been all these years. And when he notices that she hasn't replied he'll look at her and know immediately. That she's realized, at last. And he'll come to hold her like she's the most precious thing in his world. He'll thread his fingers through her hair bringing her face close to his. Forehead pressed to hers, patiently waiting for her to join him in the reality he has been living. Where they have loved each other for a while, longed and missed unbelievably because of it, and are finally able to bask in it. The warm smiles and looks, the casual closeness that not being apart allows. The things he has been dreaming of. He looks at her lips and back at her eyes, pulling back slightly to give her some space. Maybe she's not entirely understanding his feelings, maybe she's too caught up in her own to recognize his signs, he thinks, ready to give her all the time- When she grabs his neck and drags him back to her. - Neteyam... – her eyes are glossy like she's about to cry. So he caresses her cheeks gently and finally presses their lips sweetly together. And he can not compare it to any other feeling he has ever experienced. It's not like loving her, that's easy and at the same time overwhelming. It has brought him to the point that he is ready to lay down his life and all of his family's expectations to travel back to the tribe just to see her. To be reunited. But this feeling, this kiss is like knowing, that he won't be alone in his love and he can give her his all, his soul. They stay there, lost in the sweetness of being together like never before until the sun has long set and the moon has long risen.

_______________________

That is it! I do realise I keep skipping between tenses, I apologise if anyone finds it annoying and hope you enjoyed!

Edit: I thought it might be useful to put a link to part 2 down here so: Next

[ataraxiaspainting]

Star.

Yan Kafka x F Reader.

Synopsis: Kafka is waiting for a supernova to appear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, implied future kidnapping, not SFW implications, and stalking.

Word Count: 1k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Lust for a Vampyr by I Monster

Living Dead Girl by Rob Zombie

Merry-Go-Round of Life - from ‘Howl’s Moving Castle’ by Joe Hisaishi

Stalker’s Tango by Autoheart

The Four Seasons - Winter in F Minor, RV. 296: I. Allegro non molto by Antonio Vivaldi

BLOODMONEY by Poppy

Fight of the Crows by Jhariah

Bernadette by IAMX

Smells Blood by Kensuke Ushio

Enemies to Lovers by Joshua Kyan Aalampour

“She's a Killer Queen; gunpowder, gelatin; dynamite with a laser beam; guaranteed to blow your mind (anytime).” – Queen, Killer Queen

*~*~*~*

“Hey, I like them!” You huff, grasping the bouquet of spider lilies closer to your chest, making the paper wrinkle up. At your response, Aina crosses her arms and sighs, looking at the other flower arrangements sitting on the shelves behind you.

“Those are too expensive.” Aina rebuts. She points, and you turn around to follow it, and in turn frown. 

Because of the low supply, the price of spider lily bouquets has increased to 700 credits per arrangement.

Kafka, pretending to look at the roses in the corner not facing the two of you, does not try to hide her smile and slight chuckle as you gasp at the sign’s words. “Cute…” 

Once more, you exhale with a mix of frustration and disappointment, forcefully planting your foot on the ground. Gradually, your stance transforms into that of a despondent balloon losing its air.

Utterly adorable.

“Why seven hundred? Flowers grow from the ground and they take hardly any effort to bundle up!” Aina puts her thumb and pointer finger on her temples, rubbing them like your question and exclamation just gave her the biggest headache in all of existence. She sighs.

You sigh too, grasping onto the spider lilies even harder.

“Spider lilies also represent bad luck.” She says, almost groaning. 

Neither of you know if you can be reasonable enough to let Aina be your impulse control as she always has been. “The red shade is really pretty and the tendrils are pretty too!”

“Please put them back, it is a bad financial investment.” You shake your head. “Please. [First]. [First], please. We still have to go and buy ingredients for dinner tonight. If it makes you feel better I can also help you bake dessert.”

Kafka already knows what you are going to make tonight. Pasta with bechamel sauce along with apple cake. 

“[First], at least choose a less expensive bouquet. That way we can afford everything. Plus we maybe can get something else small that is not on our grocery list.” Aina tries her best to put on a more gentle smile. “Please.”

Kafka moves to near the entrance of the food section of the store, waiting for this little trifle to be over with. She pretends to be looking at the meat aisle as that is the area closest to the flowers, ironically enough. 

“Sigh…” She purrs, imagining your hair loose and gently wrapped around her fingertips. “I wonder if you would prefer blush or velvet… maybe burgundy?” 

She imagines the way you will place your lips on hers and slowly but surely… move down.

She will do the same to you with her own.

“Maybe white.” She muses, thinking of different types of fabric to put on you. “Or perhaps black.”

Kafka wonders what you would choose if she brought you to a boutique rather than going by herself.

“Hm…” She murmurs, her mind going through many, many possibilities of the future ahead.

Then, she hears your triumphant laugh and then turns around to see you hugging Aina with the bouquet in tow. “I love you!”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Aina mutters, crossing her arms and looking away from your happy face with a blush. “Just put them in the basket. We’ve used enough time here as it is.” You kiss her cheek, and her face only gets redder. “L-Let’s just go already.”

You only hug her tighter.

“Sir, yes, sir!” You exclaim, saluting, and Aina rolls her eyes.

Kafka’s smile falters.

“Tsk. Young love, I suppose.”

Of all the future possibilities, none of them will result in full success if Aina is still in the picture.

“Juliets.”

At the sight of you kissing Aina’s cheek again, Kafka resists the urge to bite her lip.

“But with great risk… comes great reward.”

She imagines how you would look under her.

Aina eventually manages to pry you off of her. “Alright, that’s enough, you’re praising me like I just saved your life or something.”

“You did!” You pout, almost cooing and still laughing joyfully. “This bouquet is the only medicine that can ever heal me of what ails me!”

Both Kafka and Aina sigh at the same time but for entirely different reasons.

But Kafka is the one who also licks her lips afterward. “I think perhaps a chemise would suit you best.”

“Let’s go to the fruits first!” You exclaim, pulling Aina along by the hand while she holds the basket.

“Which type of apple?” Aina asks, but Kafka already knows the answer. “Be sure to not get the very expensive ones this time.”

You two go past Kafka.

She takes out her phone for a split second and clicks the button.

It has been the closest you have ever been to her while you were conscious. But she hopes that soon, you will be even closer.

Wait, no. She knows that you will.

“Cute.” She whispers, booping the picture of you’s nose.

This has already become a favorite amongst the many, many photos she has of you.

Where you go, she follows. “Cute.” Surely, eventually, when you know of her, you will know that all too well. “So cute.”

She sees you pointing to the apples with a pinkish tint. Rose apples. Quite rare, if Kafka remembers correctly.

As Aina reads the sign next to them, she immediately shakes her head. “Way too expensive.”

Due to the cost of importation/exportation as well as the rarity of this species, the value of this type of product is quite high. One apple is worth 1600 credits.

You surprisingly show agreement this time, promptly diverting your attention to the assortment of apple varieties, accompanied by a hint of nervous laughter.

You end up choosing the Honeycrisps. They are good for baking cakes, you tell Aina as Kafka eavesdrops as she always does.

She imagines you baking for her and sitting on her lap.

It was only a matter of time because regardless of who is with you, one thing about you never changes; your naivety.

“All that is left is to be patient.”

[jujutsukatsuki]

Ghostface!Bakugou! <3

This was a script I found through a porn audio and I just had to use it to write smut 💀💀💀 I did change some things so it’s not a copy paste but it follows the same formula!

18+ || Minors and Ageless blogs DNI

Warnings: Dubcon, ghostface kink, knife usage, blood, little bit of yandere!bakugou, voyeurism, phone sex, stalking

Blood curdling screams come from your tv as you watch Halloween. You hug the pillow that sits on your lap as you watch someone get killed. It was the night before Halloween.

The sudden ringing of the home phone your parents insisted on having startled you. You were currently house sitting for them while they took a vacation. A glance to the caller ID shows unknown. You choose to ignore it, thinking if it was important they’d call again or leave a voice mail.

Ring. Ring. You look. Still the same thing. You decide to answer it, thinking maybe it is actually important.

“Hello?” You hum into the phone. A deep gruff voice breathes down the line.

“Guess who.” Your blood runs cold. You had someone stalking you for the last few months. Leaving you random calls, notes at your door, flowers on your coffee table. In the last week, they had seemingly disappeared which you took as they finally got bored and left you alone.

“Aw did the pretty baby think I left her alone? That’s real cute. Miss me?”

You immediately hang up the phone and close your eyes, hoping that when you open them, this will be a dream.

The phone rings and you answer it again, knowing he won’t stop.

“Baby, that’s not very nice of you.”

“Leave me alone.” You can feel the tears brewing in your eyes.

“Those shorts you got on are cute, sweetheart. Looks real good on you.”

You look at the pajama shorts you have on. Your brain isn’t comprehending that he’s watching you. Fear is kicking in and nothing makes sense.

“W-what..” you swallow thickly as you shift uncomfortably on the couch.

“What do I want from you? I wanna talk to you for a bit.” His voice is calm, cool, collected. Everything you aren’t.

“I’m.. I’m gonna call the police. My boyfriend is pro hero.” Your voice shakes as the stalker laughs again. The pro hero boyfriend isn’t exactly a lie. You had been going on a couple dates with Dynamite, but you two weren’t boyfriend girlfriend level.

“Call’em. You know that they can’t trace my calls, princess.” He hums softly, you can hear the sinister grin in his voice.

“Saw you watching Halloween. Such a classic. Do you always like killers in white masks with big knives?” You swallow again as you realize he’s watching you. You just don’t know from where. The words get trapped in your throat as he exposes a secret kink of yours.

“Baby, talk. I want to hear your pretty voice.”

“Are.. are you going to kill me?” A tear falls down your cheek. He laughs again, this time in disbelief.

“Kill you? Aw princess, I’m not gonna kill you. I want to play with you.” You chew on your bottom lip as his voice takes a darker route as he speaks again.

“I know you watch those slasher moves cause you wanna be a whore and get fucked by them. Why don’t I come out and show you what’s it’s like to get fucked?”

You feel sick as your cunt clenches around nothing. Your stomach churns but youre not sure if it’s fear or being turned on. Maybe both.

“Can you handle me baby? Huh? Want my sharp knife to your neck?” Your thighs squeeze together as another tear falls, your teeth dig deeper into your bottom lip.

“You liked that! You sick fuck!” He laughs like a man gone mad. Your cheeks feel warm as he laughs as you, his laugh makes the tight feeling in your abdomen grow tighter.

“Did I make my baby girl blush? That’s cute.” He chuckles again.

“Hmm. I want you to take those pretty shorts off. Lemme see what’s under them.” You’re hesitant as your thumbs hook into your waistband, phone pinned between your shoulder and ear.

His tone turns to one of anger.

“Do it or I’ll come in there and gut you!” You let out a small whimper, you’re sure there’s a wet spot on your panties. You take your shorts off and kick them somewhere. He hums softly with approval.

“Now, spread your legs, show me how wet you are.”

You do as he asks, panties are sticking to you with how wet you are. You can hear his breathing catch in his throat as he sees how the white of your panties has turned slightly see through.

“Good girl. God, you’re soaked, aren't ya? Is that all for me?” You nod along with his words, waiting for his next command.

“Say it.” He grins

“I’m so wet for you daddy.” You whisper into the receiver.

“Now get rid of that shirt. I know you don't have on a bra underneath.” You set the phone down with it on speaker and pull your shirt off, nipples getting hard from the cold air.

“So pretty. Now, rub that pretty clit for me. Over your panties.”

You listen to his orders and whine as you put a bit of pressure against your clit through your wet panties. With slow movements you start to rub tight circles.

“God. Gonna make me come out and wrap my hand around your throat.” You let out a moan at his words, free hand brushing against your throat.

“Oh you liked that? Fuck, you really are a freak.” He laughs, you buck your hips against your fingers as his laugh sends a jolt to your cunt.

There’s a sound of rustling on the other end before you hear it. His deep, gravely moan as his hand is wrapped around his cock. Tip leaking pre cum as his gloved hand glides up and down his cock.

He chokes back a moan and talks with a clenched jaw.

“I can't wait to fill you up with my cock. I'm gonna rearrange your guts. Is that what you want, you little slut?” You nod and whimper as you speed up your movements on your clit.

“I knew you would. Shove those panties aside. I wanna see that pussy. Don't stop rubbing yourself.”

You push your panties to the side, cold air against your pussy that’s sticky with arousal. You start to rub your clit again, whining and bucking your hips into your hand.

“Are ya close, sweetheart?” His voice is taunting, you can hear the sinister grin again.

“Y-yes!” You whimper. His laughs and for a moment you’re confused.

“I'm close too. But not in the way you think. Hang up and turn around.” He hangs up on you, you suddenly feel it. The ominous presence behind you. Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you slowly turn behind you, eyes gliding up the dark robe before you see the white screaming ghost mask behind you.

“Boo!” He laughs, his voice is slightly muffled through the fabric of the mask, but he sounds the same in person as he did moments ago on the house phone.

The silver knife catches your eye as he pulls it out. He presses it to your collarbone. You can feel the blade press into your skin.

He leans down and whispers in your ear

“Don't move. You wouldn't want to slip and get cut, would you?” You shake your head, slowly rubbing your clit

“Are you scared?” You nod

“Do you like being scared?” You hesitantly nod, cheeks turning pink. His free hand slides down your body, ghosting over your nipples and then your stomach before he’s rubbing your clit for you.

“How about when I rub your pussy while my knife is pressed into you?”

He can hear the gulp as you swallow and nod. You gasp and whine as the knife pricks your skin.

“Aw, am I hurting you, pretty girl? Your blood looks so nice, I just can't help myself.” He chuckles as he mocks you, you can’t help how wet you are at this point.

“I think you need a matching one right here on your other collarbone. What do you think?” He switches the blade to his other hand and uses the other to rub your clit. The black glove feels cold against your cunt.

You still haven’t answered his question. He gets annoyed and smacks your pussy causing you to yelp and let a few tears loose.

“Look at that blood running down your tits. That's perfect. Don't move. Smile for me.” He hums as the blood reaches the valley between your tits. The knife gets set next to you on the couch as he holds out a camera and takes photos of you.

“Bend over the couch.” He orders and pulls back from you. You move quickly to bend over the arm of the couch.

“Good girl. I got somethin for ya.” He pulls out his cock and let’s it rest against your ass. He’s huge. The idea of him stretching you out is driving you crazy, your pussy is dripping. He smears pre cum on your skin, making you sticky.

“Do you think you can take all of this in that tight little pussy?” You whimper and nod as you wiggle your hips. He drags his cock over your ass and down to your clit before going back up to your cunt.

“What was that? You want me to fuck you?” He pushes the tip of his cock in before pulling it out.

“Beg for it.” He grins from behind the mask as you’re dumb with horniness and he hasn’t even put his cock in you.

You beg him and whine for his cock. He teases you a few more times before he lines up his cock and slams into you in one fluid motion. The grunt that leaves his mouth makes you want to cum already.

The smugness in his tone is evident as he pulls out to just the tip before slamming his his back into your ass

“Look at that, I fit all the way in.” You moan and claw at the couch as he starts to thrust in and out of you.

Yeah, you like that, baby? Tell me you like it. Tell me you like being fucked by your stalker. I wanna hear it. Tell me you don’t want anyone else’s cock, ever!” He grabs your hair in his free hand and pulls your back to his chest.

You do try and tell him what he wants to hear but you’re so fucked out already, everything blurs together.

“You're such a whore. Taking my cock so good.” He looks down to the creamy white ring that’s forming at the base of his cock.

“You gonna cum, doll?” You nod as tears fall down your face.

“Huh? I asked you a question!” He wraps his hand tight around your neck, you can feel the airflow cut off and make your brain dizzy.

“Scream, you little slut!” He scolds, you scream as you squirt all over his cock and sob. His hips stutter as he holds your hips down on his cock. A gasp leaves your mouth as you’re now full of his cum.

“Damn, that really did it for you, huh? You're a dirty girl for cumming from being choked half to death.” He chuckles and pulls out. You whimper as some cum is leaking out. He grabs his camera and takes a photo before taking another one of him shoving his gloved fingers into you to shove his cum in you.

You slowly turn to face him before reaching for the mask. He grabs your wrist before he lets go. You take it off revealing Katsuki. You smile as the scene is completed now. You stroke his cheek gently, bits of his blonde hair is matted to his forehead

“You okay princess?” He asks as he kisses your palm. You nod.

This took about a week of planning. After your third date with katsuki, you told him about the little ghost face fantasy you had and let him do what he wanted.

“Did so good. Can’t believe you let me breed you.” He hummed and put a hand on your stomach.

“Wanna shower.” You yawn softly.

“Okay babe.” He picks you up and carried you to the shower.

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | Xll

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kreese begins slithering his way into Cobra Kai and you're not so sure about it. It only makes matters worse when your friend gets hurt and your boyfriend can't be there for him.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, slight bullying, mentions of assault and battery, mentions of stitches, play fighting, sparring, mention of a dick pic

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is when things start getting good!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“You gotta understand, the Mogadishu in the ‘90s was a hellhole,” Kreese explained. “Warlords controlled whole swaths in the city. My team and I were charged with cleaning the place up.”

You sucked in a breath, only imagining the hell Kreese went through while in the military.

“How many warlords did you kill?” Eli asked, smiling as he took interest in the conversation.

“You keep track of every ant you stomp on?” Kreese questioned.

“Woah,” you and Aisha said at the same time.

“Badass,” Eli grinned.

Kreese began another story, your attention span dwindling as you couldn’t picture where Kreese was as he listed other countries.

“They were outgunned, we were outmanned. I tell ya, Rwanda was no joke,” he sighed.

“Don’t you mean Somalia?” Miguel stood up. “Mogadishu’s in Somalia, Rwanda’s a whole other country,” he pointed out the man’s mistake.

“Of course, Somalia. I spend so much time in the sandbox, it all just bleeds together,” he said, cautiously stepping around his next words.

You nodded, attempting to understand.

“Listen up!” Sensei ordered, drawing your attention to him. “I see we got some new recruits,” he scanned over the crowd. “Everybody fall in. In neat rows and lines,” he said.

You caught his elaboration, a big step up from your first day. You face forward, face slack but you were giddy inside, already catching a few girls in the class.

Sensei stalked between the students until he paused, talking to someone. 

You heard an older voice and turned your head to see a grown man was present. He wanted to learn karate. You sent a glance at Eli, interest piquing you.

“I thought my last group was pathetic but if you do what I tell you to do you’ll at least have a chance of becoming a fighter,” Sensei boomed. “But to do that, you gotta fight. So who has the balls to take on the champ?”

Silence filled the room. 

“I’ll take him on,” a girl’s voice spoke up. 

You turned around to see a blonde with brunette roots stand in the back, her aura radiated power and dominance. You already liked her.

“I saw your little demo at Valley Fest. You guys put on a good show, but can you actually fight?” She smirked.

Oh, you definitely liked her.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Sensei said, taking a few steps closer to her.

“I like a challenge,” she responded.

Your smile grew, glancing at Aisha who shared the same sentiment.

“Mr. Diaz, show Little Miss Hotshot here what Cobra Kai is all about,” Sensei ordered, turning around and walking back to the front.

Miguel nodded but hesitated when he approached her. “Look, are you sure you wanna-,” he didn’t get the chance to respond when she charged toward him, kicking him square in the chest. He chuckled before he got serious. “Game on.”

They began fighting, Miguel having to block most hits. This girl was intense and she managed to stay even with him. 

You could also sense the heavy tension between them. 

It was cute. 

She body-slammed him onto the mat before he swept her legs out from under her. He stood up, offering a hand. “My name’s Miguel.” 

“Tory,” she breathed, grabbing his hand before she flipped him over, pinning his head to the mat. “With a y,” she said.

You snickered, impressed.

After class, you were in the mini-mart, getting some snacks before you headed off for a date with Eli. Aisha sighed behind you, staring at her phone. 

“Let me guess, dick pic?” Tory walked passed her.

You laughed, grabbing your favorite candy from the shelf before you joined both of them. 

“No, my mom wants me to go to the beach club with her,” Aisha sighed.

You and Tory stared at each other before laughing. 

“That sounds so miserable,” Tory mocked. 

“It’s not that,” Aisha smiled. “This girl Sam’s gonna be there and she and I are not on good terms,” she said. “Anyway, I’m Aisha, this is Y/N,” she jutted towards you.

“Tory,” she smiled at you two.

“That’s a cool bracelet,” you pointed at the spikey one. 

She smirked. “This? It’s not just for show. Some creepy guy at the mall tried to grab me once, but I managed to block him and give him a gift he won’t ever regret,” she jabbed her arm.

“Absolute badass,” you said, amazed. 

“You seem like you know how to kick ass pretty well, why did you join Cobra Kai?” 

“I’ve taken a few kickboxing lessons but I always wanted to smash boards blindfolded,” she mocked. 

You laughed. 

“The secret is poking little holes in the blindfolds,” Aisha whispered. 

“Cool,” Tory said. She walked towards the front of the store before Aisha stopped her.

“You guys wouldn’t mind joining me at the beach club? It’d be nice to have some backup,” she said.

“I’d love to, but Eli is taking me out on a date,” you smiled.

“Eli?” Tory furrowed her brows.

“Mohawk,” you said.

“You’re dating him?” She was surprised by it. “Seems intense,” she joked.

“Keeps me on my feet,” you responded.

“Well I guess I can suffer through a day at the beach,” Tory smiled, turning to Aisha.

“Have fun you guys, but we should all hang out together soon, it’s nice to have another girl on the team,” you grinned at Tory. You left the two, paying for your snacks before walking out.

Eli was leaning against the pillar outside, putting his phone away as you approached, talking to Miguel about something that clearly wasn’t making the other boy happy. 

“What’s going on?” You asked enthusiastically, glancing between the two boys. 

They glanced at each other, Miguel sending Eli a look that was only understood between them.

“Just talking about Kreese,” Miguel sighed. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted. 

Understanding, you nodded, patting Miguel on the shoulder. “Hopefully he doesn’t stick around much longer.”

Miguel agreed before he walked back inside the dojo, leaving you with Eli.

He kissed you on the lips, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before making his way to his car.

~

“Tory can kick ass, she proves girls are stronger than boys,” you snickered, ducking under a tree branch. 

The weather was sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. It wasn’t windy so it wasn’t that hot. It encouraged a good mood that your conversation drifted into one in which sex was stronger. 

“Sure she beat Miguel, doesn’t mean shit,” Eli retorted.

“I can beat your ass any day of the week,” you scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. 

He was pulled back by your resistance, his brows furrowed at your words. “In your dreams, babe, I’m stronger than you, it’s okay to admit it,” he sucked in a breath, tugging on your hand to pull you along. 

The dock on the lake came into view and you were glad no one was around. This made this moment even more perfect.

“You’re on,” you pulled away, shrugging your backpack off.

He looked at you confused before he realized. “Winner gets bragging rights?” He smirked

“Definitely,” you grinned, raising your fists. 

He did the same but you didn’t even give him a chance until you were swinging your first punch. He blocked it, swiping your arms out before he aimed for a kick to your stomach.

You reacted, blocking him easily. You threw another punch, distracting him and managing to sweep his legs from under him. 

The leaves rustled under him and as he rolled onto his back, you swung your leg over, hovering over him. He was taken aback, visibly gulping. 

“Told ya,” you hummed, hands pressed onto his chest. The shit-eating look you had in your eyes was swiped the instant he flipped you over, a yelp escaping you.

“Wouldn’t call a victory that soon,” he grinned, hands holding him up on either side of your head. “Better luck next time, babe,” he smirked, moving off you and offering a hand.

You frowned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Does the loser get a kiss?” You grabbed onto his hand, your other wrapping around his forearm as you brought him close. 

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you but the next second, you grabbed him, throwing him over your shoulder and flipping him onto his back. He hissed in pain. 

You laughed. “Pucker up, loser gets a kiss,” you smirked, still holding onto his hand. 

A few minutes later you were now enjoying a tranquil day out on the dock, your leg crossed underneath you while the other dangled over the ledge.

Your stomach fluttered as Eli’s hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he kissed you. Your hand rested on his wrist, the other pressed against his chest. No matter how many times you kissed him, you grew giddy, your face growing hot. It was a feeling you didn’t want to go away. 

“I think if we keep kissing, our lips are gonna fall off,” you snickered.

“Shh, I’ll take that risk,” he smirked against you, pulling you closer. 

The moment was beautiful but was cut short when your phone buzzed. This was the fifth time in the last ten minutes and you grew worried about who it was.

“Hang on,” you paused, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“Just ignore it,” he brushed off, chasing your lips. 

“It’s Demitri,” you said, growing worried, knowing he only called for emergencies. 

Reading the messages he sent previously helped you relax, but seeing his urgency told you it was important.

“He’s probably only calling to bitch about something,” Eli scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist to stop you but you pushed a hand against his chest. 

“Stop it,” you furrowed your brows, straightening and facing out onto the lake as you answered. “Are you okay?” You asked your friend.

“Eli didn’t tell you?” He asked.

“No, tell me what?” You furrowed your brows, sending your boyfriend a look.

“Your new Sensei attacked me in the dojo the other day, I had to get stitches,” he explained.

Your eyes widened. “He what?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” he said. “I thought Eli would’ve told you, but I guess I was wrong,” he sighed. “I wanted to let you know.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stop by when I can, do you need anything?” You chewed on your lip, a feeling bubbling in your chest.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he said before hanging up.

“I told him to let it go,” Eli spoke up.

“Eli, our friend got hurt!” You exclaimed. “I knew Kreese had something off about him,” you said, thinking back to his slip-up at the dojo today. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve been checking on Demitri like good friends instead of coming out here,” you gestured around you.

His brows furrowed. “Demitri will be fine. Besides, why would you put him over me? I thought our dates were important,” he argued.

“They are but things happen, he’s our best friend,” your voice cracked. “You should’ve told me,” you stood up, walking towards your backpack.

“Why are you acting like this? He’s the one acting like a bitch,” he sneered, standing up and following you. 

You couldn’t believe what he had said. “No, he’s not!” You turned around to look at him. “You’re the one acting so insecure! I’m not choosing him over you and it hurts that you’d say that,” you huffed.

You hated that you were arguing again. It’d been a while since the tournament but you hoped you were past it.

“Babe, stop,” he reached for your wrist, pulling you back. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed. 

“I don’t want to fight about this,” you breathed. “I just want to see Demitri and make sure he’s okay,” you gulped. 

He was reluctant but after a beat, he agreed. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

~

Disappointment filled you when Eli didn’t want to come inside to visit Demitri. First, it was the “nerd shit” stuff at the victory party but being so insensitive when he was assaulted?! 

You were trying to understand why Eli was losing himself. It hurt you in more ways than you could imagine.

After his mother let you in, you made your way to his room. You found him sitting at his desk, playing a game and when you knocked on the door, he turned around, showing you the bandage on his nose.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” you went over and hugged him. “And I’m sorry for how Eli reacted, I didn’t think he’d be defensive about it.” 

He nodded, patting your shoulders as he moved to sit on his bed. “It’s not your fault, at least one of my best friends still cares about me,” he shrugged.

Your gaze dropped, knowing you couldn’t even argue it. 

“I’ll talk to him,” you said. 

“Didn’t you already?” He looked at you. “It’s obvious he won’t change his mind. I’m just a big pussy according to him,” he sighed, licking his lips. 

“I think Kreese is getting into his head. He hasn’t been around long but he’s already slithering his way into Cobra Kai. I gotta be honest when I say I don’t like it,” you frowned. 

Valley Fest was his idea, he punched Demitri, and now your boyfriend is getting swooped up into his ideologies. Sure, he was Sensei’s sensei, but you had a feeling he was trying to revert Cobra Kai to its original state. 

“At least you’re not getting assaulted because of it,” he spoke.

“I know,” you nodded. “I guess you’re not joining Cobra Kai then,” you stated the obvious.

He shook his head. “I’m thinking of joining Miyagi-Do,” he confessed.

Your brows raised in surprise. You knew if Eli heard of this or anyone from Cobra Kai did, they’d be pissed but all you could find yourself doing was feeling proud of him. 

“Their demonstration did seem pretty cool,” you smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in,” you beamed. “And I promise I won’t say anything to Eli.”

“Thanks,” he sighed out in relief. “What about you?” He asked.

“What about me?” Your face scrunched in confusion. 

“Isn’t Kreese one of your sensei’s now? Don’t you want to get out before it’s too late for you too?” His voice was filled with so much concern. 

“He’s not my sensei,” you shook your head. “I don’t agree with what he believes,” you said. “Besides, someone needs to watch Eli, right?” Your tone was playful. 

He agreed. “Sure, I guess. Until he turns completely toxic and takes it out on you,” he warned. 

“I’m strong enough to not let that happen,” you cocked a brow. “Miyagi-Do will make you strong, so don’t worry about Eli, I’m proud, okay?”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled.

Later, he offered for you to stay for dinner, which you accepted. It was a nice distraction from the worry you held when it came to your boyfriend. You just hoped he’d change once you talk to him.

~

The next day at the dojo, practice ran like usual.

“The back thrust kick works like this,” Sensei demonstrated. 

“What about if your opponent attacks you from behind?” Eli asked.

“Excellent question,” Sensei pointed. “Sensei Kreese, you wanna take this one?” 

You frowned slightly, eyeing the older man. Where were you when he was appointed as a sensei? You weren’t sure about this.

“Certainly Sensei Lawrence,” Kreese said, uncrossing his arms and making his way to the front.

“The key to making this move is to trick your enemy into thinking you’re retreating,” he began. “But just as they’re letting their guard down, that’s when you strike the hardest,” he demonstrated the kick. 

You took in the lesson, but the glance you shared with Miguel told you all you needed to know.

[heartsoji]

ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh can I have nishinoya x reader who gets kinda insecure when she sees how pretty kiyoko is and nishinoya is like “what no your perfect :(“

nishinoya with an s/o who gets insecure around kiyoko

a/n: friendly reminder not to compare urself with others bcs ur perfect just the way u r!!

shimizu kiyoko, class 3-2, manager of the karasuno boys' volleyball team. she had become quite the idol among the 2nd years, whether she was aware of it or not. she had dark, silky hair, pretty eyes, an oddly sexy mole on her chin, and was dignified and elegant. she unknowingly set an example for what karasuno's girls should be like.

enter you, a 2nd year in class 5 who's sole redeeming trait was your academic intelligence. you weren't like her. your hair was dry. your eyes were empty. you were clumsy and insecure. you were never going to be someone like shimizu kiyoko, a natural beauty.

somehow, despite this, you had managed to snag yourself a boyfriend. a loving, energetic, cute, athletic, hardworking (at the things he actually likes), boyfriend. nishinoya yu, class 2-3, a sweet ball of energy and the sole libero for the karasuno boys' volleyball team. you'd been dating for around 4 months now, and honestly, aside from his lack of height and slight academic stupidity, (neither of those bothered you in the slightest) he was the most perfect boyfriend. told you he loved you everyday. bought you flowers. spent time with you. cared about you. checked in on you. said good morning everyday. basically, he was a walking green flag.

but despite him telling you that you're the most beautiful person in the world and he loves you every single day of the week without fail, you were still insecure in the relationship. you knew from stalking collecting background info on him pre-relationship that he was, like every other boy in the school, obsessed with shimizu kiyoko.

and to be honest, you didn't blame him at all. why wouldn't he be? she was the most beautiful girl you'd ever laid eyes on.

however, now, he no longer told kiyoko that she was beautiful, nor did he tell her that he wanted to "be with her forever." he now just treated her like any other girl.

so, you knew that he loved you. you knew that he was doing everything he could to make sure you knew that. you felt guilty, to say the least. you just felt so.. bad. you felt bad that he was doing so much for you and all you could do was think about a pretty older girl. you felt bad that he gave you so much love and affection and told you how beautiful you were all the time just for you to look in the mirror and compare yourself to his previous crush. to be honest, you knew that you wouldn't be so conscious and aware of kiyoko if noya didn't use to like her. you felt like such a pick-me and a total selfish brat who didn't appreciate others' efforts. still, no amount of words or feelings could stop you from staring in both admiration and envy at shimizu kiyoko whenever she walked by.

one night, you and noya were hanging out. he was studying at your insistence, and you were chilling on your phone beside him.

at some point, you were on insta and saw an aesthetic post of a picnic that she went on with her underclassman co-manager. it showed the beautiful set-up and a few pics of her posing modestly yet prettily. she wasn't trying to make a super hot model face/pose, just sitting there smiling. yet somehow, she just looked so elegant and pretty, and you couldn't help but start to tear up.

you felt so stupid. why were you crying? well, you knew why. because you were comparing yourself to her, and the fact that she was so far away just left you feeling so sad and incompetent.

you tried to hide your tears, but unfortunately, noya noticed almost immediately. he dropped everything he was doing and immediately cupped your face and wiped your tears.

"hey.. what's wrong?" he asked, concerned.

"it's nothing.. sorry." you mumbled, averting your eyes.

"hey."

you looked at him.

he held you firmly. "nothing that ever makes you feel sad will ever be 'nothing' to me, and it shouldn't be to you, either." he said firmly.

he stroked your face lovingly. "now.. mind telling me why there are tears littering my girl's pretty face?"

for whatever reason, that just made you cry more. something about the way he loved you and made you feel special made you feel wonderful, but also guilty. what you were crying about was so insignificant, yet he was taking it so seriously. still, you mumbled and blubbered about how you were comparing yourself to kiyoko and how you felt so guilty about how much he loved you when you could never be as good to him as he was to you. you went on and on and on on a sort of rant as he just listened patiently, not saying a word.

when you were done, he embraced you gently and held you to his chest. as he stroked your back, he whispered gently into your ear, "you are the most beautiful girl in the world. and while i won't deny that i used to be obsessed with kiyoko-san, im no longer because i have a gorgeous girlfriend now in my life that i wouldn't trade for the world. and i know that me saying so makes you feel guilty, but let me just say this: you are so good to me. us two express love in different ways, and i happen to be more upfront about it. you express love to me by bringing me food when i forget mine, or helping me study when i put it off. sure, they're different, but that doesn't mean that you aren't so good to me. and honestly, even if you didn't do any of those things and more, just having you by my side would be more than enough."

his words made you cry harder, and you both squeezed each other tightly. you knew that this issue would persist for a while, but that was ok. yes, kiyoko will always be drop-dead gorgeous. yes, noya will always make you feel like the most special girl in the world. yes, you may continue to feel incompetent for a while. however, there is nothing (and i mean nothing) that he won't help you go through. after all, he loves you, and you are far less incompetent than you think you are.

[checkingoutforheroes]

B.A.B.Y PROTOCOL

Part 3.

Avengers x fem!reader

Words: 2160

Synopsis: This takes place in Avengers: Age of Ultron. When The Avengers were at the rock bottom, Nick Fury and advised by Maria Hill, to initiate the B.A.B.Y Protocol. Will a young, damaged and broke girl agree to this initiative and help a team to save this planet earth?

Part 2. 

Main Masterlist.

Everyone go on their separate ways after dinner. Clint hit the gym, stretching some muscle for tomorrow. Steve and Thor are planning or finding any possible ways on how take down the talking machine. Wanda probably taking a shower, Tony and Bruce are still arguing in the lab about something that only they know while I’m singing, doing a little dance heading to Natasha’s room.

I about to knock the door when I hear a woman voice. “It’s open.” Natasha said without looking at the door but still acknowledge your present. “Sorry I don’t have any cute animal or flower pajamas for you kid.”

             “How do you know it’s me?” Sure she’s a master spy or assassin but still, you need to learn that one from her. She just smiling and sit on her bed, patting a space for you to sit next to her. “I can hear your singing and footsteps you know. You can do better than that.”

             “In my defense, I wasn’t going to stalk you, or on a mission to be quiet.”

“So, you’re not here for the pj’s.”

             “I’m too old for pj’s.”

“Tony still wears one.” She smirks.

             “He is Tony. He even has his own pj’s brand. I sleep in my donut uniform. I’m pretty sure everyone of you guys have your own pj’s. It’s quite some time since we talk.”

             “Yeah.” She’s looking at you one hand rubs your head down to your shoulder. “How’ve you been Y/n?”

             “I’ve been, okay. I guess.” You just shrug.

 “You’ll get used to it. All you need is time and diversion. We kind of have a similar past. It’s just something that we have to do. Those who are innocents, are collateral damaged. You can’t change that. Every time we want to do the right thing, good thing or making things right again, there will definitely someone or something that will be sacrificed.”

             “I never told you my past.”

“Where do you think I’ve been on my free time? Clint and I do know what you’ve been up to.”

             “All of them?”

She smiles. “Not all though. Maybe once, twice a year. We see that you handle it pretty well for someone your age. The fire on that baby formula factory, impressive.” She laughing while your face is turning red, embarrassed on that occasion.

             “Oh god. Can we not talk about that factory? It was embarrassing.”

She keeps on teasing you. “Yeah? Like that bread store?”

             “Hey, they deserve it. They’re processing drugs. I’m just helped them fasten their operations. That’s all.”

             Natasha looks down at you. “By burning them?”

“That’s the only fast option that I had! Don’t point it at me. We both had a thing with fires and explosions. You know that.” We laugh a little bit, remembering those memories. “Hey. You be careful tomorrow okay? I want to be in but Maria told me to sit this one out first.”

She nods. “Yeah, I got that information Maria send it earlier. It’s okay, we can handle this. I hope. If something goes wrong, you’re the best backup we ever have. You’re young. You still have a long life journey ahead, don’t waste it, sis.”

You mumble something under your breath. “If I can life that long.” Natasha tilt her head to you and frowning. “Why did you say that?”

You feel so damn stupid and panic right now. You need to do something to change the topic. Being stupid, you held up her widow bites. “Hey, is that new?!”

             “Y/n. You know that is widow bite.” She watches you strangely.

“Really? I already know that? Oh yeah. Of course I know. Duh.”

             “What are you hiding?”

“Its not made to kill right? Just knock them off.”

             “I suggest you put it back down and tell me, what are you hiding.” Natasha said calmly but that doesn’t help your panic. Of course you’re not listening to her and do something stupid again by bringing it close to your face.

“True or false? This thing is no-“ You feel your body has been jolted and electrified. You can’t think of anything but you do feel the pain and electric moves through your veins straight to your heart. Yes, that is so much worse than lying to your big sister figure.

             “Great. Y/n!!” Natasha didn’t catch you while you are falling because the electric can be transfer to her to if she catches you. She grabs and toss her widow bite away from you and calling your name a few times when your body hit her carpet. If it was on normal person, that person will wake up in 10 or 20 seconds so while she waited, she grabs her leather suit and rub it on your body to diffuse the shock. Natasha calls you again. “Y/n, Baby. Wake up. Hey, you can wake up now, it’s okay. You’re okay. Y/n? Y/N??!!” She keeps on rubbing her suit on your skin. “It’s not funny Baby. Why are you-?”

She hears something beeping. The source not coming from her phone or her suit. She hears it again and she looks at you. Natasha bring her ear close to your abdomen and stop at you left chest. Then it clicks her. Its coming from your heart. Now, she’s a little bit more panic. She unbuttons two button from the shirt you’re wearing to see what exactly happening and she see medical scar and it’s a little bit bulging on the area. Natasha pick you up while Jarvis already alert the whole team when it senses someone heart rate in the team is on dangerous level.

Tony and Bruce are the first one arrive at the medical area since they’re just in their lab, next to it. Clint sees Natasha running, halfway to the medical area, he takes you from her arm and keep on running without asking a single question. Steve and Wanda follow close behind. “What happened?” Steve ask while running and Natasha didn’t even answer him and keep running.

Clint put you on the table. Electrocardiography or Holter monitor and Defibrillator are on standby. “Her heart beeping. Been unconscious around 4 minutes.” Natasha told Tony and Bruce. “Take off her shirts. Jarvis, run full diagnostic and internal image on left chest area, stat.” Jarvis do everything that Tony asked. “Right away sir. Full diagnostic running, I suggest that everybody leave the room for a moment until the CT Scan is done.”

Thor is the las one arrive and he meet them outside the room. “Who’s sick?” Wanda answer him because Tony, Bruce, Natasha and Clint busy discussing something. “Baby. Something about her heart.” Thor ask her again. “Can you read her?” She shaking her head. “No. I can’t if I didn’t touch or being near her.” “Jarvis still running diagnostic and examine her.”

Meanwhile with the other four. Clint asking Natasha the whole story and she tells them. “She shot herself?” Bruce asked. “Unintended. She panicked about something after when I said something about long life journey. To keep from blowing up her secrets, she took my widow bite to create a diversion. Change the topic about our conversation.”

Bruce takes off his glasses. “It’s not radiation. Palladium?” Tony shake his head. “I don’t think so either.” “Allergies?” Clint ask and all eyes on him. “You know that kid doesn’t have allergies. She ate everything what’s given to her.” Clint agree on Natasha’s statement and nodding. “Right, right. Should we call Hill?” “I think it’s better wait and see if we can figure it out.” Steve suggested and ask Natasha. “That widow bite. What did it do?” “It provides electric shock enough to make a person unconscious. Usually it takes 10 to 20 seconds for someone to gain their consciousness but she took longer than that. Then, I heard the silence beeping.

“She need that again.” Thor said and all eye are on him, he continues “Your electric bullets equal to a small lightning right? She’s sick because of that right?” “Yes. So what’s your point big guy? Blame me even more that I did to myself?” Natasha’s tone is now changing at Thor’s question while he’s thinking how to explain it to them. This whole earth thing is still new to him but he understands of what happen.

             “How do I explain this? A’ha! Okay. Like this place, this building goes dark. Then Tony will find that switch on the big box or that disembodied voice do something to bring it back on. Got it?” He happily told them then one by one of them gets it.

             “Bulging and beeping…” Natasha recalled.

“Widow’s bite…” Tony added.

             “Recharge.” Bruce pointing at Thor for his explanation earlier. “Battery!!” Natasha and Tony stated. “Tony, do you have-“ Tony beats Natasha’s sentence and running out and thank Thor “I’m going to take it! Good job Point Break!!” “Glad to help.” He smiling proudly and playfully punch Steve’s bicep. Wanda still processing their conversation. “What he’s going to take?” “Back up power source.” Thor’s smiling and Steve ask for confirmation “A generator?”

They both earns a glare from Natasha. “Defibrillator device or something.” She said.

Bruce try to correct her. “It’s an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator (ICD). Its specialized designed to-“ 

“Oh hush! I’m not a doctor.” Natasha grumbled and walking back inside the room when Jarvis said it was clear to enter.  

Three hours later, you are awake and the first person you see is Natasha. Sitting on a chair next to your left side. She notices your head moving and stand to have a better look at you. “You alright?” You remember what happened earlier before and try to joke about it but she did not find it funny. “Damn, that thing sting. You should name it widow zap!” She furrows her eyebrow. “That thing only zap on who have a heart condition. Normal people doesn’t have to go on surgery. I’ll tell Maria what happened and you are not going in any mission.”

“But I’m here to help.”

“That’s because they don’t know! We don’t know!”

“I’m doing whatever I can to help this earth.”

“Don’t you understand? You could get yourself kill! Clint and I agree. You sit this one out and we’ll send you home. We’ll find the best doctor for your treatment.”

“Now you care?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t get to make a decision for me Nat. You and Clint both! Not after left me alone without a damn note!” Your eyes starting to tear.

“Took down The Red Room and kill Dreykov was the final step in my defection to S.H.I.E.L.D! Free the others. They can do whatever they want or how to live on their own.”

“It’s 2006. I was 13!!” You shout at her. “Bold of you assume they all live. He doesn’t let a single soul of widow breathing since you take off. I consider myself one of lucky bastard. My age was too young to go through the experimentation. The rest, either success or dispose the fail subject. And you’ve been missing.”

“I, I didn’t know.” She sits on the edge of your bed.

“No notes, no massage, no letter, nothing! I look for you everywhere I can. Two years later I found out you work for S.H.I.E.L.D. You know how happy I am when they took me in? To finally be close to you. Work with the same organization. You are the only person that I know for my whole life.” You’re smiling. Remembering that day. “We met at the academy, you introduced me to Clint. He’s a nice guy. When I feel like whole again, you two left.” Your smile fades.

Natasha wipes a single tear that falling on her cheek. “I didn’t know.”

You softly look at her and hold her hand. “But it’s you Nat. You always know. You always have plans. I tried to figure it out. Think what is in our mind, what’s the plan? I can’t.”

“Maybe I don’t always have plans.”

You trying to lighten up the mood. “Different people, different path. Yeah, you’re young too. That time.” You smirking and see her reaction. “Why are you smirking? Are you saying that I’m old?” Jarvis voice echoing the medical room. “Miss Romanoff, Captain Rogers require your presents at the hanger 30 minutes before take-off.”

“I guess that’s your call. I’m going to take a nap.” You sadly said, knowing she have to leave again.

She hugs and rubs your back. “I wish we had more time. You, don’t do anything stupid. Have a lot of rest. When I’m back, we’ll discuss about finding your doctor.” You smiling hearing someone said that to you. “You know I’m not a kid, right? I’ve survived before.”

“I’m gonna make it up to you. So shut up and sleep.” She pushes your head down to the pillow and tuck you in.

“Nat?”

“Ehmm?”

“Don’t die.”

“You too. We’ll see you when we’re back.”

[euphoricdreamsidreamabout]

In the dark

Warnings:Fluff,curse words, mentions of death(very small)

Pairings: Peter Parker X fem!reader

Summary: You just wanted a sandwich, but the night took a complete turn and you ended up being stuck in the dark with a certain stranger.

—

Peter heard the thump followed by him throwing his bag on the concrete floor. He got out of his suit and wore the change of clothes he had in the bag. Pulling down his hoodie he felt his stomach grumble. Gosh he was hungry.

He walked through the streets of the city. The moon shined over the buildings. He could hear the distant city life buzzing, away from this part of Queens.

Peter was always fond of quiet walks but sometimes he dreamt of having these walks with another person. Though those wouldn't be quiet since he'll obviously bore them with his random facts but he didn't care.

He reached one of his favourite places in queens: Delmar's.

The bell rung as he walked in,"Hey Mr Delmar, how are you? And i can't forget you, murph" he said scratching behind the cat's ears.

"Oh just the same kid. Want the regular? "

"Yeah and can you press th-"

"The pickles really flat. I know"Delmar teased.

Peter smiled embarrassingly and started looking around.

Y/N POV:

I looked through the menu again for the nth time. This is hard.

"Look kid you gotta choose something, I got other people to attend to. " The man behind the counter said.

"I know I'm sorry everything seems so good. It's hard to decide, Mr delmar" You said as you read his name tag.

You heard the bell ring as you looked at the menu again. "Hey Mr Delmar, how are you? And i can't forget you, murph" You heard a boy say. You glanced at him and saw him pet the owners cat. The cat purred bringing a smile on your face.The brown curly haired boy started talking with Mr Delmar again. He looked about your age and was pretty cute.

“So you done selecting yet?” Delmar said looking annoyed.

“Uh yeah just a minute.”You said embarrassed.

Peter POV:

I looked around the place, watching the people go by on the street through the window, looking at the other closed shops , looked at the beauty in front of me. Woah she’s beautiful. Ok she’s the one I’m gonna have my quiet not quiet walks with. I can already see it.

The girl looked at me and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry , I know I’m taking a long time, I just can’t decide what to pick.”

“Oh number five’s pretty good.” I suggested not knowing where the confidence came from.

“Ok well can I get a number five Mr Delmar, recommended by this kind stranger”She said and looked at me smiling.

I chuckled embarrassingly “And I-“ I was cut off by a weird beeping noise and soon the lights went out.

“Oh señor, the generators turning old. You kids be alright eh? I’ll be back in five.”Mr Delmar sighed.

Peter waited patiently for a minute before he heard you sigh.

“Uh hey stranger , do you have your phone on you, mine’s battery just ran out?.”

“Uh nope, i mean im sorry no I don’t have a phone. Left it back at home”I stammered.

“Ok guess we are stuck in the dark.”

“Hey do you guys see a red dot . There’s a lever under it you just have to flick that till I’m fixing this guy over here”Mr Delmar yelled from the back.

“Do you see a red light?”I asked.

“No but I do see a weird thing in the corner, it’s staring at me , it’s creeping me out”the girl said. I tried to look closely and concentrated on her features.

“Ok all we have to do, is stick together. I mean going through a small shop in the dark can’t be that bad right?”I nervously chuckled.

“Your making it sound bad, stranger.”

“Ok where are you?”I asked and put my hands forward.

“In front of you.”

Something brushed my shoulder.”You’re mixing your prepositions you’re beside me.”

“No I’m right here”A small hand wrapped around my outstretched arms.”See?”

“Then what touched me?”

“It’s that thing from the corner , it’s stalking us”she whined.

“We should start moving , if we wanna survive.”I said and started moving forward with her.

“I mean I don’t mind dieing among packets of potato chips.” she said.

“This is serious, can I know your name by the way?” I asked and took the situationship between us to a next level.

“Oh so that’s serious” she replied sarcastically. “It’s Y/-Aaaah. Something touched me! Something touched me!”she screamed and backed into me.

“What? What?What touched you?” “Something”

“Well there’s nothing there.”I freaked out.

“I’m telling you someone or something is following us.”

“You wait here, I’ll go see what touched you” I said bravely.

“You can’t leave me alone! You’re the one who told us to stick together.”she reasoned.

“That’s a good point, but I’m only going two steps in front of you.”

“Ok but please be safe”She said concerned.

Her worrying about me made my heart flutter. She sounded pretty cute when she’s scared. Is that weird? That’s probably weird.But what can I say I love her voice.

By now my eyes had adjusted to the dark but I still couldn’t make out the objects.I stretched my hands again and started walking slowly back to the place where she freaked out.

“I still didn’t get your name.” I said trying to calm her down.

“Name after, first what touched me!”

“Right,Right I’m checking”I said in defence.

Ok Peter calm down, why aren’t your Peter tingles working, they should be working, this is their purpose. During all my rambling I didn’t realise I walked into something. I felt all around it and chuckled.

“The thing that touched you was a pile of boxes.” I said amused.

“Are you fucking kidding me I freaked out because of a bunch of a boxes.I wanna fucking get out of here.Ok Y/N calm down 1….2…3”

“Your name’s Y/N, that’s a pretty name.”

Y/N POV:

I felt myself blush at that. I walked back to him and held his hand.

“Ok , you’re tall can you see a red light.?”I asked.

“I’m not taller than the aisles.”

“Well maybe we should walk alongside them, we won’t get lost then.” “That’s a good point.C’mon” he said.

We both walked alongside the aisles in a pattern , front , left, front, right. I have a feeling we are going to get nowhere at this pace. I tugged the strangers sleeves and whispered “Maybe we should walk alongside the walls.”

“You’re seriously telling me this right now.” ”Well you could’ve also come up with that idea, but I did, so give me some credit dude”I argued.

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’m just kind of frustrated and wanna get out of here.”

“It’s ok, I’m the same.”

During this whole ordeal I forgot how close I was to him, I could hear his breath, I could feel my heart hammering and felt my stomach grumble. Shit, I want that number five so badly.

“You should seriously get your Sandwich after this.”

“How did you know I was hungry?”

“I heard your stomach grumble Y/N.” he chuckled.

I slapped his chest lightly at that.

“Who knew flicking a lever was gonna be this hard?” I mumbled.

“Well at least we’re together and not alo-“Wait did you hear that?” You cut him off.

“I thought that was your stomach”

“No that was a growl, a very clear growl matter of factly”

“Oh fuck.”he said.

“Yeah oh fuck is right.” I said.

“To calm you down or to scare you, I got two news, good news and bad news. Which one first?”

“Uh bad news, I guess”

“I saw something move.”

“Shut up stranger please.” I whined, scared out of my fucking mind.“What’s the good news?”

“I see the red light.” He said.

“ Wait really!” I gasped. “Then why aren’t we moving?”I asked excitedly.

There was no response from him.

“Stranger?”

“Uh nothing let’s go.”

We both jogged towards it and even though I saw something move in my peripheral view, I kept going.

Finally we reached the wall and flicked the lever.The light turned green.

“Well?, why aren’t the lights turning on?”I asked nervously. I do not want to stay in this fucking place anymore.

“I have no idea.”

“Please, don’t tell me we have to go fix the generator now” I whined and slid down the wall. I pulled my knees towards my face and tried to breathe deeply.

“We spent so long here and I keep seeing things and hearing things”I rambled.

“Uh Y/N?”

“Yes stranger?” I asked frustrated.

“The lights are on” he chuckled.

I looked up so fast I was scared that I was gonna get a whiplash. Wait the light are on. The lights are on.I jumped to my feet and hugged the boy tightly.

“I can’t believe we did it and we are alive! Ok maybe that’s too dramatic but that was scary.”I said with my arms around his neck and his around my waist.

“I’m Peter by the way, Peter Parker.”

“Oh I like stranger more, just kidding.I’m gonna call you Parker from now on”I teased him and chuckled.

I looked around the the store and saw how small it actually was.

“Wait it’s only been 20 minutes! That felt like hours” I heard Peter say.

—

After getting our sandwiches and welcoming Delmar we both walked out of the store.

“Hey can I get your number?” Peter asked.

“My phone doesn’t work and you don’t have it, do you have a pen?” I asked.

“I forgot about that”he said after giving me a pen.

“Here, text me.” I smiled at him

“Cool, is your house nearby?”

“It’s just a bit far.”

“Ok then I’ll walk with you.”Peter said smiling at you.

You chuckled and walked for a few minutes.

“Wait what was that thing that was moving?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“Well it could have been a ghost, but logically I think it was Murph.”

[wildbornsiren]

Kinktober Day 8: Pegging || Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace/Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Pegging Summary: Phoenix gives Bob something he’s been craving.  1636 words Natasha “Phoenix” Trace/Robert “Bob” Floyd.  Warnings: EXPLICIT MINORS DNI anal sex, pegging, use of a strap on Notes: For #kinktober2022. Reminder that these will not have part twos, or continuations. Please follow @wbslibrary​ since tag lists are gone. (I appreciate ya’ll so much but it was stressing me out, and I was worried I’d miss someone). Comments and sharing let me know you love me, likes are appreciated. Thank you so very much for reading. It’s so appreciated and means the most.

There's a buzzing under his skin, an itch in his hands that he can't quite soothe. He hadn't been sleeping well, surviving on bitter black coffee and energy drinks. Robert knew, he knew what would quell the creeping sense of impending doom. However, here, at Miramar there was no way he could find someone to keep it quiet. So here, he sat in his dorm room, once again glad that he had a solo space.

He rubs his hands against his thighs, the touch only sending electric shocks running through him, only compounding the frustration he felt. He aches, needing the stretch and fullness of being taken. He groans, rubbing the back of his neck.

The frustration had spilled over into his work life, snarling openly at Hangman. The worst of it was getting into it verbally with Phoenix. His free hand curls horrified that he had nearly shoved her out of his way. The person he trusted more than anyone in the world.

Guilt had made the bile rise in his throat when he realized she had braced for the shove. Instead, he turned and stalked off toward the locker room.

There's a knock at the door and he starts. Bob gets to his feet, shuffling over to it. He blinks owlishly when he sees Natasha standing on the other side. She pushes past him, taking a seat at his desk. He closes the door and turns to look at her.

"What's going on Floyd?"

He winces, arms crossed as he leans against the door.

"It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, mouth in a tense line. "Bob, I depend on you up there. I need to know if there's something that's going on."

"I'll take care of it." Bob says softly. He could look for something a couple hours away. That would work.

She gets off the chair, staking toward him. Her hand reaches up, cupping his cheek. His eyes close leaning into the touch. His chest is tight, lips parted a soft needy sound escaping from the back of his throat.

"Bob?" Her fingers trace his cheekbone, his jaw. Her thumb brushing his lower lip. He chases the digit with his tongue.

"I'm sorry." He knows that desperation has brought out his accent, the vowels are round and full in his mouth.

"I know it's not me, so what do you need?" There's nothing but gentleness in those dark eyes that pierce through him.

"I switch." He licks his lips. He had come out as bi to Natasha soon after they had started flying together. He had been her wingman when she had gone on a date with a cute townie girl.

Realization fluttered across her face. "Grindr?"

He clears his throat, "Can't risk it."

"Oh Bobby," she says softly.  "I-I could help you out." There's a flush on her cheeks, her breathing a little shallower than before.

"I thought about it. But I can't ask you-- that's beyond..."

Phoenix's hand presses against his mouth. "Be quiet." Her weight shifts and she pressed him against the door. "Nod or shake your head."

He nods.

"You need someone to rail that tight ass." She says, he nods. "Face down?"

Bob nods again.

"Do you want me to touch you?"

He hesitates, shrugs.

"You can let me know if you need it." He nods.

"I'm going to go get what you need. You get undressed and lay down. I'll get you ready." She leans up on her toes whispering into his ear. "I'll fuck you good Bobby. Give you what you need sweet boy." Bob steps aside when she jerks her head toward the bed. It was easier to breathe when she let the door closed behind her. It takes a few minutes for his heart to get back to a regular pace. He runs his hands through his hair, exhaling forcefully through his nose. The distance from where he stood to the bed seemed too large, even as he shed his shirt, placing it on the dresser. He shoves his sweats down, stepping out of them, putting them on the dresser as well. Bob’s hand shook as he placed his glasses on the nightstand, digging out a bottle of lube and a condom. He stretches out on the bed, resting his head in his arms, focusing on his breathing. There’s a soft knock, a few moments pass before the door opens and closes, the lock clicking. His eyes close when gentle hands land on his calf. “How long has it been?” “Months,” he feels his shoulders relax as her touch lingers on his calves, rubbing at taut muscles. “I can normally handle it myself… I haven’t been able to.” She sighs, “I’m sorry. I understand how hard it is.” The massage continues up to his thighs. He’s vaguely aware of the heat rising on his face, and it spreads down his neck. The way she touched, the way she was talking to him. She was doing this for him even though there was no attraction between the two of them. The bed shifts, the soft cotton of Natasha’s shirt, brushed against his back. She reaches over him, before she’s settling further up on the bed next to him. “I’ve got you,” she says simply. One of her legs slides between his, pulling them apart. Natasha settles between his thighs. “I’ll stop at anytime if this gets to be too much.” “I know,” Bob says quickly, probably too quickly. His shivers at the first pass of a slick finger, a whimper passing his lips. Natasha works him open, and by the time she’s two fingers deep, he’s rocking against the mattress. “Feels good.” He mutters. “Feels really good.” He’s so hard he’s nearly cross-eyed, his cock smearing against his stomach. Her hand slides under him, and he lifts himself, resting his weight on his arms. “Good boy,” Natasha mutters, the words ghosting against his back. “You take it so well,” her fingers twist and his voice breaks in a sob. Her fingers continue to drag over his prostate until he’s trembling. “Please?” His hands clutch at the blankets, head bowed, lower lip caught between his teeth. “You ready for it?” Natasha eases her fingers from him. He hears the slick sound of her lubing her strap. She nudges his legs further apart, her hand sliding up his back, resting between his shoulder blades, pressing his upper body against the mattress. “Breathe for me,” She whispers. The stretch is immediate, and he moans wordlessly. She doesn’t stop until she’s bottomed out, her hips flush against his ass. He nods slightly and Natasha starts to move, fucking into him with an easy pace letting him get used to the feeling of the strap. “Go on Bobby, let go.” Her hand grips the back of his neck, and he shivers. His hips rock back, meeting her thrusts. Her praise urges him on, and he fucks himself on her strap whining when she angles her hips, thrusting deeper into him. Her weight drops against his back, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head realizing that she had put on a binder for him. Giving him the feeling of someone that she wasn’t. She’s not as broad as who he wants to have against his back, but the way Natasha fucks him made up for it. The ache, the longing, replaced with mind-numbing pleasure. Bob groans softly, feels the pieces of himself coming back together. Nat’s hands urge him up to his knees, the angle of her thrusts even deeper than before. Her arm circles his torso, pressing herself fully to him. Bob feels himself arch back when he wraps his hand around his cock, stroking himself. Natasha grunts softly, but keeps a tight hold of him, fucking into him harder. “Who are you thinking about?” Her voice is hoarse, strained. “I won’t say anything.” He whimpers softly, the man’s name spilling past parted lips, grip tightening around his cock as he strokes. “Come for him Bobby, come for him.” His breath hitches, his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. Eyes closed, stroking his cock, slow, dragging his hand up and down his shaft. His hand is sticky with precum, his cock twitching when Natasha continues to thrust over that spot that makes him see stars. “Gonna cum.” Her touch moves, hands settling on his hips, holding him as she continues to fuck him. He comes hard, his cum splattering on his chest and stomach. Natasha’s thrusts slow and she laughs softly, throatily. “That was incredible.” She gently pulls out, and Bob nearly falls forward, catching himself on his hands. “Are you okay?” He nods, licking his lips. “Yeah.” He takes a breath, feeling the pain in his chest subside for the first time in a few weeks. “Natasha…” Her hand smooths down his back. “It’s alright.” Her voice is so soft, but the warmth and gentleness that he’s grown to recognize that was just her came through. “Let me get cleaned up, you get cleaned up, and I’ll come back and snuggle.” “You want to snuggle me?” Bob can’t help but chuckle. “Bobby I just fucked your brains out. That was intense. I’m not just going to leave you.” He rolls over, and sits up, watching as she wiggled out of her harness, pulling on a pair of loose sweatpants. “Are we okay?” She nods, “Still totally not interested in men.” She winks playfully at him. “I also much prefer someone softer and curvier under me. You’re bony.” Natasha tucks the strap and harness into a bag. “Get cleaned up. I’ll be back.” 

She’s halfway to the door, when she glances over her shoulder. “You know, you really should talk to him. I’m sure Rooster would fuck you better than I can.”

[sugarakis-p2]

Happy Birthday from Tenko!

Shigaraki just wants to get back to the hideout when he bumps into his old crush. His babysitter from when he was Tenko. You feel so familiar, so friendly to him, as you chat about your upcoming birthday, even though he can't remember you he wants you. You recognizes him right away but he appears to be dating a teen. Shigaraki is not going to let you walk out of his life.

Warning: Non/con stalking Shigaraki. Chubby darling, cake eating, tit licking, size kink, deflowering, older woman/younger man, bad words, specific mc body type, etc. too tired

“Pllllleeeeeaaaaaaasssseee, Tomura-Kun,” Toga begged.

“No! It’s early, no money, and nothing is open. Quit bothering me,” Shigaraki growled at Toga. He hated being alone with her. She’s like an annoying little sister.

“But I’m hangry. Oh, I can get us money,” She said, skipping off after a guy. Shigaraki didn’t notice until she ran up beside him, short of breath with a fistful of bloody yen. He stares at the little psycho. 

“What? I didn’t like him enough to kill him. Now can we get something to eat?” Toga whined until he agreed. The only place open was a bakery. Even this early, there was still a customer taking their sweet time. He really hated this. Toga shoved the wade of bloody money in his pocket and ran to wash up.

While waiting for the customer to stop jabbering, he looked at her plump round ass. He was almost hypnotized by it. He was starting to have lewd thoughts about biting and smacking it. Her hair is long and silken. He isn’t the type to hold back, but even he was surprised when he thought there was something familiar about her and leaned in close.

“I got the order, miss. Does your boyfriend want anything?” The cashier asked.

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?” She turned to see Shigaraki holding a lock of hair to his nose, pressing the silken dark chocolate strands to his cracked lips, inhaling deeply with hooded lids. She smells like sunshine and warm fresh linen. She yelps and jerks away. Freezing when she gets a good look at his face.

“T-t-t-tenko? Tenko Shimura? Is that you?” She asked suddenly near his face on tiptoe. Close enough to kiss those pretty lips. Her large doe eyes roam over him, warm and brown, before giving him the broadest brilliant smile he has ever seen. Her soft features made his heart race. She is an earthen goddess, very exotic, and she only has eyes for him at this moment. 

His eyes can’t help but dart down to her small perky chest. He bet he could fit a whole one in his mouth. Her voluminous soft round curves. He wanted to touch her tanned skin. Something about her felt so familiar. Tenko is not a name he has heard in a long time. He vaguely remembers a young girl like you saying it.

“Have we met?” He wonders aloud.

“It's me! Your old babysitter. Oh my, you’ve really grown. Look how tall you’ve gotten. Your eyes and hair are a different color,” You nervously tittered as he loomed. Devouring you with his gaze. God, he wants to rail you so bad. You are so cute and soft looking, chubby and curvy in all the right ways. He wants to sink into you and get lost.

“It’s me, Tenko. What have you been up to?” He attempts awkward conversation. What he really wants to know is where you live. He feels like a predator that has locked onto prey and wants an easy hunt. Catch you relaxed and vulnerable. You chuckled and flipped your hair.

“I haven’t seen you since I was ten. Wow, Tenko. Well, I worked aboard for the past three years, but I’m back now. Oh, I’ve been back for about four months, just in time for my birthday in a week. That’s one of the things I was doing here, ordering my birthday cake while I picked up the office’s coffee order. By the way, what are you doing in the nex-,” You were saying. Talking to him casually like an old friend when Toga walked up.

“What are we ordering? Did you order?” Toga asked him. He saw it on your face, the puzzled, repulsed expression as your eyes darted from Toga back to him. You were about to invite him to your birthday, he just knows it, and Toga ruined it. He was itching to decay Toga. She ordered for them making it worse, “Two coffees. And a dozen honey almond cookies with green tea frosting.”

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” You asked him. Your voice dripping with disgust.

“What this? Hell no,” he says, quickly shoving Toga away from him.  

“Hey, what the hell TS? You need extra sugar in your coffee. See if it makes you sweeter, meanie,” Toga whined, sticking her tongue out at him.

“So, how do you two know each other?” You asked with a cocked brow.

“Coworker!”

“Big brothers club!” They answered at once. He is going to choke Toga. Your face fell more. He could feel it. A wall had just been bricked up between the two of you.  

“Right. Well, it was nice seeing you again. I should get this order to work,” you said flatly.

“Wait, we should exchange num-fuck!” he rasped as you hurriedly walked out of his life. He gave Toga a death stare while he paid with the bloody crumpled Yen dropped on the counter in front of the cashier.

“I get nose bleeds,” Toga says flatly.

“Yeah, gushers,” Shigaraki gravels. The cashier looked disturbed but took the money and told them to have a nice day. Shigaraki turns to leave with his coffee, enraged he can’t see you on the street. The sun is coming up, and soon it will be too crowded for them. Toga follows cheerfully, sipping coffee. He is about to unleash his fury on her when she giggles at him.

“You are so obvious Tomura-Kun. So, that’s your type, huh? I bribed the cashier. Here’s the receipt. She paid with the company card and picks up coffee for the office at the same time daily,” Toga smirks. He snatches the receipt, shoving it in his pocket, he'll get the address off it later. He desperately wanted to look at it, but they needed to get going.

“Good job, you creepy little stalker. Give me a cookie,” he demands.   

The following week you are plagued with bad luck. You just feel this menacing vibe that you are constantly being watched. It got to the point you are thinking about getting an exorcism. Things in your house seemed to move around. Has your food been missing? Where is all your underwear? It doesn’t matter, you won’t need them for tonight.

You have a special birthday date with Fujisawa-san. He is so handsome and has been asking you out for months. You finally decided to grace him with your presence. You’re going to a fancy sushi place, drink sake, fuck his brains out and eat cake.

You look at yourself in the mirror. Admiring how this dress highlights all the right parts. When you get older, you don’t need a huge party. You are the party. You are going to get rid of your virginity. It wasn’t like you were saving it for anything special. It just never seemed to happen. The guys you picked turned out to be jerks, or you felt too nervous about being naked in front of them. Fujisawa-san seemed nice, and it’s not like you’re getting younger. Might as well say fuck it and enjoy yourself. You put on your lipstick and make your way to the restaurant.

A dark figure with a bag unlocks the back door as you leave through the front. He has been watching you for a week for this moment. Shigaraki tosses his bag under your bed. That’s going to be a part of his birthday present for you. Nothing irks him more than the thought that you were going to ask him on a date but changed your mind because of Toga. Shigaraki has some time. He goes through his rituals. Shifting and sniffing through your dirty underwear and pocketing his favorite.

Rooting through your frig. Hoping there is something you have taken a bite of. Shigaraki saw the box for your small personal cake. He takes a quick peek. The scent of spring peaches and natural vanilla makes his mouth water. He is going to have so many peaches in his mouth today. He licks your clit stimulators. Disappointed you clean them every time.

He moves on to your makeup. Pulling out the shade you used. Popping off the top to lick it and kiss the stick that has touched your lips. He swears he tastes a little of you on it. He shudders and sighs in longing. This indirect kiss isn’t enough. Shigaraki’s cell pings. He checks it. He better start getting ready. Turns out your date ended early.

You sat across from Fujisawa-san and wondered what the hell happened to him. He was not acting the same. Fujisawa immediately sat down and started eating. It was like he hit his head because he was rude and insulting. 

“Are you feeling ok?” you asked after a half hour of awkward conversation and only received head nods or grunts.

“Yeah, fine. Is something wrong with you?” Fujisawa snapped back. Oh boy, you must have been mistaken about Fujisawa. You drank all the sake. When you both reached for the last piece of sushi, he leaned forward and whispered, “Don’t you think you’ve had enough? You gained weight, haven’t you?”

The smack you landed on his cheek rang out in the restaurant. You will not be humiliated on your birthday like this. You thought he was a good man, but he taught you a lesson. You feel like crying as you hail a cab. Across the street, Mr. Compress texts Shigaraki letting him know Toga did a perfect job.

“Seems like a lot of work to get the creeper laid,” Dabi saws watching your date crumble into ash.

“Normally, I would agree. However, Toga and Shigaraki have hobbies. Indulging them keeps them stable with us. I enjoyed performing that sleight of hand and lifting her keys,” Compress response. Dabi lights a cigarette with a corpse and shakes his head.

Shigaraki waited for you to come home in the bedroom closet shirtless. He didn’t have to wait long before he heard you stomp into your apartment. Tossing your purse across the room. Snatching up a pillow and screaming in it. Red face and full of fury.

A beautiful sight to him. But just about anything you do that makes you wiggle provocatively, he likes. You yank off the dress and toss that too. Damn, Toga must have really let loose. No panties as you go into the bathroom to wipe off your makeup.

You wear your oversized nightshirt, turn off the lights and crawl onto your bed. This is perfect. He is about to slip out when a buzzing sound fills the room. He stops and watches, letting his eyes adjust. He sees your hand working a vibrator over your clit.

Shigaraki’s red eyes are transfixed, watching your plump lips wrap around the toy, your clit engorged. Your sweet little noises mix with the buzz. He’s growing painfully hard as he watches your pussy get sloppy wet, glistening with juices that start to drip on the blankets. Your eyes are closed as your head lolls to the side, rocking with your body as you hump the toy.

Shigaraki is at his damn limit. He slips out and slowly pulls his bag out. You are so busy you don't notice him until you feel the bed sink under his weight. Your eyes shoot open, and you open your mouth to scream, only to have some fabric violently shoved past your lips with a large hand clamped over your mouth. You flail, trying to kick and hit. There is a metal click around one wrist and then a forceful capture of your other wrist. Handcuffing you to your headboard.

“Behave yourself,” a voice gravels above you, eerily calm. Three fingers digging harshly into your cheeks. You stop struggling when you recognize the voice. It takes you a moment to focus on the face. But it’s him, Tenko.

“Temo?” you mumble. His feral manic expression softens.

“Yeah, it’s me. Happy birthday, birthday girl. You left before I could get your number. That was rude. But I still found you so I'll forgive you. I will take my hand away, but you have to promise not to scream. If you scream, I will hurt you,” he says. Playing with your chest over your shirt, tweaking your nipple before gripping your front with all five fingers. You jerked and squeaked when it turned to dust. He brushes the remains of the shirt away with the back of his hand. He had practiced this move just for this moment. One of his many gifts to you.

“Do you believe me?” he asks coldly. You nod your head frantically. He pulls your panties out of your mouth and pockets them again, “I want to give you a birthday present. I’m going to help you finish what you were doing.”

You whimper as he shifts, leaning over the bed to pick up something. You start to struggle again to no avail. You don't want his present. But the handcuffs are sturdy. He pulls the cake up from under the bed and places it between your legs. You tremble, your heart pounding so hard it’s impossible to think. You can taste the saltiness of your tears as they trickle down and dance on your tongue. Shigaraki dips his fingers in the frosting with an evil smile. His eyes dance with wicked thoughts as he watches you squirm.

“T-t-tenko, please don’t. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I-I-I,” you start to say when you flinch at his touch. Spreading frosting on your nipples while ignoring what your saying. In a panic, you blurt out, “What will your girlfriend think?”

Smile faltering, he moved the cake aside and shook his head.

“I told you she wasn’t my girlfriend. We’re criminals. I couldn’t say she’s my killing buddy, now could I? See, you are giving me that pretty wide-eyed look of fear. If you had done that in the bakery, I would have bent you over the counter and ravaged this tasty body,” he growled, looming over you with his tongue lolling. You squealed and tried to squirm from his mouth, aggressively coming towards your chest.

He found this game amusing. Like you could escape, it was adorable and pathetic, just how he likes you.  

“Nom!” he snorts when he captures your breast. Attempting to suck the whole thing in his mouth. You shriek in terror. He growls like a rabid dog, threatening to bite it off like an apple if you shriek again, grazing with his teeth to be sure you understood. You understand and shake in terror as he slurps and sucks at your breasts. Cock rubbing on your thigh. It's hot and heavy, scary even through the pants. 

Kneading them like dough, cautious with his fingers while he played with your tits. He licks all the frosting off, moving to the other breast. Tweaking and pinching your nipples until they peek and pebble under his tongue. When he is done, he sits up and licks the rest of the frost from his fingers.

“Peaches and cream. Mmmm, soft and warm,” he beams. He watches you as he frees his beast of a cock. Letting it hit your belly. You yelp in fear, jerking and trying to back away. It’s hot, huge, and keeps growing the longer you look at it. You think of it as a monster that could easily terrorize a village of virgins. It’s too big for the first time. The thought of it going inside you makes you sob.

“Open for me,” he barks, gripping your thighs and pulling you back to him.

“No! No! Please, I’m still a virgin, and that’s too big. You will never fit, Ten,” you cry.

“Virgin? Never had a virgin before. Calm down. I’ve watched enough porn to know this will fit. You are already wet, but since it’s your birthday, I can push the petals open more,” he rasps. Roughly forcing your legs open. Cruelly shoving a saliva-coated finger in. Crying out at the painful invasion, you tremble and clench to push him out.

“Wow, one finger is a lot for you. So, tight,” he chuckles. His finger is longer and thicker than anything put in you before.

“Please…..no….Ten, it hurts,” you mewl. He slowly pumps his finger in and out.  

“Careful with that name, birthday girl. Knowing it is what got you in trouble in the first place. No one calls me that anymore and that’s how we are going to keep it. Can’t have you running around using that name, getting yourself into trouble. Fuck, you are tight. Need to spread you more,” he says more to himself, adding another finger and scissoring.

All of his attention focused on your warm slick cunt glistening with juices. How your muscly walls are resistive to his touch. He reaches in deeper, to his knuckles, and rubs a soft spot. You shudder and mewl. This may not have been a waste of time. He just found your sweet spot.

“It hurts. You won’t fit. Please! We can do something else,” you weep. Your pussy twitches on his fingers. You glance at his cock again. It's rubbing and leaking all over you. Thick and sagging under its own weight. It looked angry as the red tip dribbled. He smirks when he notices where your eyes are at.

“It's ok, you can look as much as you want. Do something else. On your birthday! That would just be selfish of me. Just relax. It’s ok. There, there, breathe. Come on, you’re alright. I'll do most of the work. You just rest. You feel so damn hot and wet. I will be nice,” he soothed. Stroking your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t,” you whine. Your cute blush and whimpers are pushing Shigaraki to his limit. Your pussy flutters as his fingers send shivers of pleasure through you.

“Oh, don’t tighten up. Are you close? So, damn pretty. Your little pussy is quivering. I think it’s about time,” Shigaraki announces. Pulling out his fingers and licking them clean, “Mmmm…peaches, and cream.”

“You are so lewd. Don't look. It's embarrassing,” you flustered when he spread you wide. You squirmed under his filthy gaze at your sex, straining to close your legs. He doesn't let you. He looked like a happy kid. He looked like Tenko again, which made you even more ashamed. He drags his cock over your pussy with a happy hum. Mixing your slick with his, the leaking head rubbing between your folds.

“N-n-n-no way is that going to fit!” You shout as he lines himself up to your little hole, notching and gripping your waist.

“It will be ok. Don’t worry. It will fit,” he snarls with a harsh thrust. You shrieked again as his head pushed past your hymen. It stings on your insides. A deep burning pain. His cock stretches you past your limits. 

“It huuuuurrts,” you groan. He looks at you with a moment of surprise. He grinds hard, his length demanding more, and you whimper in pain.

“Huh, it’s not going in at all. It’s only the head, and already you are still too tight. Relax. Shhhh. Calm down and spread yourself wider. It will stop hurting after a while,” he comforts, with more petting and kisses. He lightly bucks his hips to ease in slower.

“No, I can’t,” you wail with your eyes squeezed tight.

“There, there, it already went in a little bit further than before.”

“Really? Then we’re all done?”

“You’re cute. One last big thrust should do it. I’ll make it quick. Better than drawing out your suffering. Here we go,” he says, gripping your hips harshly to hold you in place. Before you can scream no, he pushes hard into your tight cunt with one severe snap of his hips.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow,” you cry at the sudden burning fullness. It feels like he is rearranging your innards just for him.

“It went in all the way. See! You did so well,” he praises with a kiss. This one to your lips. He tastes like tang, cigarettes, vanilla, and sweet peaches. His tongue licking at yours. His rough, cracked lips lightly scrape against your soft ones. He pulls away and encourages you to look where you are connected.

“It did go in all the way,” you say, shocked. The whole thing went in! Your mind reels. You thought he would be worse, but he has been surprisingly gentle while he violates you against your will.

“Alright, now that I’ve let you adjust and open up that flower, it’s time for the main event.”

“What? That wasn’t the end?”

“You are a cutie. No, my dick went in, is all. I will be gentle with my first virgin. My special birthday girl…..at first,” he smirks.

“Huh?” It was hard to think, but you squealed when his cock began to slowly move back and forth in the center of your core. He nuzzles the side of your head, holding you close, planting kisses between praising you for being a good birthday girl.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you being cruel and kind?”

He stills, lifting out of his embrace enough to look at you, his crimson eyes studying your hurt expression. You can feel him growing harder in you.

“That’s an odd question. Because I want to and your special. After all my changes physically and mentally, you still recognized me all these years later, so you must have thought about me. You’re luscious, caring, and your body delicious. You’re not like me, and I want to corrupt you. Yeah, I like the thought. I'm going to be your first and shape you to me…..I can be rougher if that’s what you want?”

“No, please,” you beg. Shigaraki embraces you again, whispering in the cone of your ear.

“Then stop asking stupid questions and take every inch and drop of my gift to you,” he hissed. You whimper in fear that you opened your mouth too much. But Shigaraki continued with his delicate, even pace, working your cunt to him. 

“Ah-oh-oh-ah,” you moaned. His hot panting mixes with the sounds of the wet slaps of your flesh. Your mind starts to feel like it’s going numb as you adjust to the pain. It no longer burns. It just stings as his length pumps in you, grinding against your cervix. A while later, it’s a sharp sting followed by a pleasant tingle as he rubs against a sweet spot in you. Slowly his hips buck harder, his pants picking up with his pace, the jerking of his hips becomes sporadic, and then a hot warmth spreads in your middle. His cock twitches in you, then it feels….nice.

He lifts with a grin looking at your quivering pussy. Your shaking body, lust-blown eyes, heaving chest. His cock still squirting hot jets of cum in you.

“Do virgins normally bleed this much? Why do you have such a pained expression?” he asks.  

 “I don’t know. It hurts. Are we done?”

“Not yet. Your pussy is really tight. Felt like my cock was being crushed for the first half. Hard to keep control like that. You should be fine after you cum. Flip on your knees,” he instructs. He grabs your ankle and helps you while staying inside. You shriek again. He pulls a glove on he had in his pants. Licks his two middle fingers, hunches over you, and wedges his hand between your thighs to press on your clit.

This time he is so deep and harsh that you cry out with each rough rut. He humps hard and fast. Not bothering to be gentle. Now he is whispering filthy possessive things in your ear.

“All mine. My tight virgin pussy. You are gripping and clenching down so hard. This is how you like it, huh? You turned into my little slut real quick. I can feel you are about to cum. What a good birthday, girl. Cum on my dick,” he growls.

Hot shudders of pleasure rack through you. Shigaraki works his cum in deeper with each hump. He is like the beast you initially suspected he was. Your clit pulses as he rubs tight circles. Oh god, you are going to cum. You can feel it is building and cresting quickly.

“No! I don’t want to! No! I'm cumming. I don't want to!”

“Too bad,” he growls. Bucking faster until you both scream. Shivering and shaking as tingles up ecstasy shoot through you. You came! You came hard on Tenko! You came at the same time!  You feel so good and ashamed. His cock twitches relentlessly. More hot jets of cum spread in you. It’s the same wonderful sensation of hot coco warming you from the inside on a cold winter night. You gasp for breath. Shigaraki’s eyes roll in the back of his head as he grits his teeth. It feels like you are one person for an infinite moment until he pulls away.

Unlocking your cuffs and holding you to his steaming body. You are so foggy; you can hear him mumbling sweet nothings to you in the background of your mind.

Next thing you know, he is feeding you cake. Sharing the same spoon and holding you like a lover.

“Happy birthday. I already made a copy of your key. Don’t bother going to work tomorrow. Your present is all of me. But to collect, you must be with me. You're mine from now on. I won't have my girl trying to escape. Not after I made you blossom and opened up your pussy,” Shigaraki rasped.

You wearily nod your head. What choice do you have? He's going to keep you, and you both know it. Slumping against him, dripping cum form your sore used pussy. He kisses you.

“Good girl,” he grins deviously, “Mmmm…peaches, and cream.”   

 

[writers notes: This is a gift, with a specific MC body type. Don't be a jerk and complain about how you don't have small tits, or long hair, etc. It's nice that they are willing to share so be kind, rewind and chill]

[rinbowaman]

A Blank Canvas

Warnings: Yandere content, obsessive behavior/thoughts, hints of kidnapping without directing mentioning as such, stalk-ish behaviors, mentions of a private investigator.

For my beloved fellow writer, creator, and friend, @ateliertale. Take this as an early birthday present. ❤️

I lay wide awake, her face is so youthful and vibrant, like the fresh green blooming's of spring. Her eyes dazzle like lustrous granite, and are as wide as the sky above. Her hair is all natural, and graces over her petite shoulders, further complimenting her rather small structure. I chuckle at her height, or the lack thereof. She is so small, so tiny, yet her personality is larger than life. 

“Heh…adorable.”

I chuckle every time I look at her. She is so perfect…so cute and pretty, so tamed and wild. She has become my everything, my one and only. I've seen her face over a thousand times and I never get tired of staring... I dream of her so often that it has become a nightly ritual every time I lay my head to rest.

It drives me crazy, the way I fantasize about her. The first time I witnessed the glories of true and effortless beauty, was when I saw her passing by at one of our fan signs. It’s not normal for something to distract me so easily; I’ve held hands with every Lune in the continent, and shared sweet words to feed their delusional desires…empty words. I used to think that the words I spoke to these girls were meaningless and shallow, all of which were expressed with a certain amount of gratitude, but taken with a grain of salt. It is a part of my job, after all. Yet the moment I saw her walking by, linking arms with her friend, I realized that there is meaning behind those words…my actions…and those feelings, there definitely is…just not with them…only with her. 

I used to grow angry and frustrated whenever I dreamt of her. It was as if she was haunting me with her delicate smile, and taunting me with that sweet laugh. I wanted to catch her...but she was always too far from my reach. I'd wake up, empty handed with only her face permanently ingrained in my brain. That's when it all dawned on me...It is something that I hadn’t symbolized until recently, and now that I have, I finally understand what the universe is telling me….

“We belong….we are in love.” 

Yes, we are in love. She may not realize it fully…yet. But the way she flipped her hair and glanced my way, I could see it in her eyes that she was meant to be mine. Her soft smile as she issued a small nod, acknowledging my presence as I smiled back and waved. Of course the fan before me was definitely not happy, but who cares. Is there even a point of me doing lives anymore? When all I can see…all I can hear…all I can think is…

“Kei? Are you ready to go?”

“Hm? Oh…yeah.”

“Laying and staring at the ceiling again? Isn’t that boring?”

“Yeah it is.”

“Then why do you do it so often?”

“Because I’m not looking at the ceiling…I’m seeing something beyond beauty and comfort.”

“....oooookay…well, stop staring at it and let's go eat. I’m starving.” 

The abysmal stain of eggshell and crumble that smoothes the entire ceiling. It may appear dull and lifeless to everyone, but to me, it is the most treasured vision that I look forward to seeing each day. A blank canvas that allows me to paint the perfect picture of her features, without any color or object to interfere with the details of her face and smile. It’s been months since the fan sign, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see her again, especially when–

“Kei?”

“Yeah?”

“Forgot to mention...did you hire a private investigator for something?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, he dropped by while you were doing a live, and left a message.” 

I’m handed a business card of the investigator's name and number, with a small handwritten note on the back. He was an elusive fellow, very committed and good at his job…I only hire the best. Looks like my money and patience is paying off, I can’t help but smile widely when I read his message…

“Found the girl.” 

Oh fuck…I feel like the world is spinning. Finally, I’ll be able to see her…to hear her….and to take her.

Yes, take her away from it all…to keep her all to myself…to tell her all about the dreams I’ve had of her…of our life….of our children and our happiness. The same dreams that drove me crazy and caused me to yearn for her more and more….it was all the universe’s way in showing me that we belong. I can’t wait to show her the poems and songs I wrote for her…the line of feminine fragrances and satin dresses that I bought for her. I cannot wait. 

My thumb swipes up at the message, and off to the corner was hidden beneath the pad of my finger. I would have missed it had I not moved…but now I am glad. Soon, the blank canvas above me will be nothing more than a distant memory. Soon, I will have the real thing before me....oh the feeling I get whenever I imagine how supple and soft her skin will feel beneath my fingertips. How delightful her voice will sound when I squeeze her and hold her tightly against my chest, caving over her much smaller frame. Soon...my happiness will be more than what my eyes paint on the blank canvas that is my bedroom ceiling. My happiness will be real and within my grasp.

I silently read off the letters, trailing the delicate characters that make up her name. 

“Yuan…”