#and put him in HIS bed to take care of him

[eden-axe]

Wrong Sparks p1

Summary: During an argument with Eddie, Volt gets upset with you and kicks you out of the bar, unknowingly hurting you.

Part 2

Eddie/Volt x gn!reader

Warnings: Yelling, electrocution, mentions of falling down stairs, Volt being possessive, minor violence.

Word Count: 1,727

After closing hours at the Breaker Box arguing could be heard to anyone who passed by Dorian, who was unlucky enough to have heard all of it for the past hour.

From inside the club you and Eddie were having, what you both would consider a ‘causal argument.’ Though to those who did not, your dynamic would think it would put Harper & Dirk's shouting matches to shame. Though every argument you had with Eddie had one thing in common: it came from a place of genuine concern and love; but paired with both of your stubborn ways, it looked more violent than you intended.

"Do I seriously have to ban you for a week so you can just cool down?" Eddie was growing tired from trying to get you to stay put at the bar for the past hour. You have been trying to help with maintenance, but he denied your offer every time since you sprained your wrist.

You knew his threat was empty, but with your mind growing just as tired, you believed him. You huffed, “Fine, then maybe I'll go be a regular at Bev's!”

Eddie reeled back at your very real threat. You did it before and didn't come to the Breaker Box for two days. All because Eddie wanted to stop serving you after you got drunk once & almost fell down the stairs; And if it weren't for Dorian pulling you into your room and getting you to bed safely. After Eddie learned what happened, you got into another argument, to which you went to Beverley's and slept next to Koa that night. You knew Eddie would blow a fuse that night out of concern if he saw you go up the stairs after getting drunk at Bev's.

When you realize you stepped out of line due to Eddie's silence, you shuffle your feet, thinking of what to say, but he beats you to it, "You can stay... but you can't help.

That comment sparks the fire of the argument in you again, "That's how we got here in the first place!"

Eddie sighs and pinches his nose, “Oh god, not this again" Eddie sighs & pinches his nose.

Your argument picks up again, possibly even louder now. The reason for the fight? You had recently sprained your wrist & cramped your hand from taking on a part time job from home while in ‘labor limbo’ and going around the house helping everyone else. Due to your exhaustion you didn't help much with repairs at the bar, but just sat at the bar and chatted with Eddie.

Eddie was there when you realized how bad your hands were; You were drying dishes while he washed, when you turned the glass & dropped it clutching your hand.

After a quick trip to Farya, she wrapped and iced your hand and told you to take it easy on physical labor. You listened to her for a few days; you stopped helping people around the house, and only took time in keeping pleasant conversation, and even took time off work. But now you feel guilty. Eddie had fallen further behind on work since you would stay after house at the Breaker Box for a chat. Now he was stretching himself thin to take care of you and the bar. When you didn’t come to the bar, Eddie would always come to find you and make sure you were resting… Which brings you back to now...

"I can handle it! Let me help!”

"No, you need rest. I've got it handled." The lights were starting to flicker as Eddie just wanted to get back to work and let you rest.

You scoffed, “Oh yeah, because working alone got you really far last time!"

You both paused as a bulb burst from above you. You look at Eddie, shocked at your own words. You start to move to him when a large hand grips your shoulder, painfully so.

“Volt—” Eddie starts, but doesn't get to finish.

Volt's skin, an inhuman shade of blue, stares coldly down at you, “You’re cut off for the day. Get. Out”

"Volt” You grab his wrist, about to beg him to hear you out, when he suddenly grabs your injured wrist.

Eddie tries to reach Volt seeing you hold back a pained yell, but Volt already has you out the door. "Stay away from Eddie." "Volt doesn't even look at you as he slams the door.

You bang on the door yelling for Volt to let you in, when a small current comes through the door. That small spark finally allows you to feel the pain in your arm, it's excruciating. Volt, whether knowingly or not, had electrocuted your arm. You let out an ear piercing scream, only muffled when someone pulled you into their chest & everything went dark.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When you wake up you notice Farya and Betty right by your sides. Betty was petting your head as Farya was checking up on your arm. Her poking and prodding didn’t bother you, but you were confused why she was here.

“What happened?” You look around, but Betty keeps you lying down.

Curt and Rod appear from the end of your bed. Curt starts off the explanation, “It was crazy. Dorian bursts into the room carrying your.”

“And you were practically dead. Limp. The whole dramatics.”

“Yup. Farya entered not long after, and you were messed up real bad. Whoever you fought, they got you good.”

“They singed your arm bad. Farya considered cutting it off.”

Your heart started sped up as your breathing became uneven.

“They are just messing around. That was never even an option cutie.” Betty reassured you. Her warmth helped a bit, but the second you calmed down, you shot back up.

“Eddie!” You leapt from the bed before anyone could stop you. You raced to the door, but before you could even touch the handle Dorian grabbed your hand.

You look at him, but he shakes his head, “You need rest. Not to go mingling about with them.”

“Dorian, he didn’t mean to,” Your legs gave out, and he picked you up. When he put you back on the bed, you grabbed his hand, “Can you at least check if they are alright, especially Eddie.”

When Dorian doesn’t respond, you resort to puppy eyes and beg, “Please?”

Dorian sighs and squeezes your hand, “Your heart is too big from them, luv’.”

You thank him, and tell him you’ll go rest. You go to turn the lamp off, but when you make contact with the switch it shocks you. You go to pull your hand back, but Farya is already checking your fingers, lightly touching them.

“Does it hurt?”

You look at your shaking hands being touched by her steady one, then look at her, “I- I can’t feel anything.”

She releases your hand which begins to shake even more violently. Curt and Rod get up and head to the door.

“Oh those two really have their wires crossed.”

“Ain’t nobody mess with our friend.”

When they reach Dorian, he blocks their path, and before they could protest he gives them a look that shuts them up, “Look fellas, I know emotions are high but please, stay here with em’. I’ll handle them, I swear.”

Curt and Rod nod and go back to your bed, Curt pulling out cards they had kept themselves busy with before you woke up.

Rod dealt the deck as Dorian closed the door behind him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Breaker Box had been closed for a few days after the incident with you and Volt. Eddie was against the idea, but Volt wanted him to rest and get the repairs done in a timely manner; it also gave Volt time to cool down.

Volt had regretted how rough he handled you that day, but when he saw Eddie blow a fuse he got overprotective. It was a rare thing for both of them, especially now that you joined them. When Volt got too overprotective, he boiled over to controlling and possessive, and this was the first time you had seen it. His blue flared side was something Eddie had told him to reel in, and Volt swears he’s been working on it.

Now Eddie was ignoring him as Volt refused to let him leave to check up on you. So now Volt is in the front cleaning up, while Eddie sits backstage. A loud banging on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“We’re closed.”

“Not here for a drink.”

Volt stood up straighter and opened the door when he heard Dorian’s voice. Volt invited him in and put on his warm host persona.

“How can I help you Dorian? You rarely come here, even when I personally invite you.”

Dorian glances around the room, “Where’s Eddie? I need to speak with both of you.”

Volt felt his protective nature boil up again, but Eddie’s voice carried from across the room, “What do you want? We’re busy right now.”

“Look I don’t want to be here either, but I need to know,” Dorian glares at the two of them, “Which one of you blokes messed with the power.”

“I beg your pardon? We’ve been here fixing the breaker.” Volt puffs out his chest as Eddie stands by his side.

“Look,” Dorian closes his eyes, “I know you lot had an argument the other day, but what you did was too far.”

Eddie moved his hand to his hip, “What was too far?”

“Ah… alrighty then.” Without warning Dorian reels back and punches Volt, sending him to the ground. Eddie rushes to Volt’s side and opens his mouth to yell.

“Look, if you want answers, ask your mate here. And please do stay away from the human unless you both have a proper apology. And I’ll think of letting you see them once they recover from your little stunt.” Dorian gives Volt a pointed look before taking off.

Volt sits up and looks at Eddie confused, “What does he mean ‘recover?’ Our live wire got hurt?”

Eddie looked at the door of the bar, “Yeah, they sprained their hand earlier. The one you grabbed, rather roughly.”

Volt looked down, the guilt finally catching up to him.

“We’ll go apologize to them tomorrow, for now let's deal with your face.” Eddie helps Volt up and takes him to the back to ice his face.

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Note: I will be making a part 2, so if you want to be tagged send me a dm or ask and I'll make sure you're notified when it drops. Please know it may take me a week or so to get it done. Any comments, feedback, or support is appreciated.

Also requests are open, please check pin to check out who I write for!

[rafeys-angel13]

taking care of rafe

- request a fic - masterlist -

— ⋆·˚ ༘ * requested! -

you had been out on the boat all day. you loved rafe’s boat so much, it was always fun when you took it out for the day.

you sunbathed and talked about the most random things. you swam for a while too. you only noticed rafe looking pale and quiet when you guys got back to his house.

he immediately lay down on the bed and sighed deeply.

“you okay, baby?” you set your stuff down and walk over, sitting on the side of the bed. he nods and rests his hand on your thigh, giving you a small squeeze.

“yeah, i’m fine” he forces a small smile. you feel his forehead with the back of your hand.

“no you’re not… you feel sick or anything?” you tilt your head, looking over his face.

“i feel a little dizzy… maybe a little nauseous…” he admits, reluctantly.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you sigh and stroke his sunburnt cheek. “— did you even put any sunscreen on?” you scold, knowing he didn’t.

“i never wear sunscreen.” he scoffs and turns onto his side.

you get up and go downstairs, grabbing him a water bottle and some pain killers. when you get back upstairs he rolls his eyes.

“i don’t need that…” he huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. side eyeing you.

“yes you do, sit up.” you grab his arm and he reluctantly sits up. you unscrew the cap off the bottle and hold the bottle to his lips, he tilts his head back and sips it. “— you need to make sure you’re drinking enough…” you tell him, looking him in the eyes to let him know you’re serious.

you make him take the pain killers with the water, he does it but he’s definitely not happy about it.

he pulls you into him, making you lay down next to him. he lays on you and rests his head on your chest, exhaling softly through his nose. his hands gently grip your waist as his thumbs caress your stomach softly.

“maybe i do feel like shit..” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. you chuckle and run a hand over his hair.

“i thought so…” you respond with a small smile. he nuzzles his face into your chest, groaning softly. this is gonna be a long night.

[nanamisweetgirl]

🜼 ⋆ piercer!geto sucks on your tits as a ‘well done for taking care of them’ after he pierced your nipples.

“they’re healed already?” he murmurs, crouched in front of you on the edge of his bed, dark eyes focused, lips barely parted.

you nod, proud of yourself—his shirt draped over your shoulders, half unbuttoned, just enough for him to see the swell of your chest, the glint of metal where your nipples poke through soft skin. “mhmm. no crust, no pain. i cleaned them like you said.”

he smiles. not the soft kind. not the sweet one he gives strangers.

no—this one is filthy. slow. the kind of grin that says you did good, so now i’m gonna ruin you for fun.

“atta girl,” he praises, reaching up to run his thumb just beneath one of the piercings, careful but firm. “you followed instructions so well. can’t have my favorite girl walking around with infected jewelry. what would people think of my work?”

you shiver as his fingers skate higher—palming your breast, his thumb brushing the ring with almost reverence. he watches your reaction closely.

“still tender?”

“no,” you breathe. “feels good now.”

he hums. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

and then his mouth is on you—hot, slow, greedy.

he doesn’t go fast. he lingers. sucks your nipple into his mouth with a low groan, like he’s waited weeks for this. his tongue flicks over the barbell, teases the metal, makes it jingle slightly before he closes his lips around it and suckles.

you gasp. your hips twitch.

his hand presses gently on your waist, keeping you still. “mm-mm,” he murmurs, lips still latched. “let me take my time. been dreamin’ about this since the day i pierced you.”

he kisses the underside of your tit, then trails to the other one—hands cupping you up like you’re a luxury he saved just for himself.

“look at you. so proud of your pretty piercings. showing up here all healed just so i’d put my mouth on them?”

you don’t even answer—you can’t. his mouth wraps around the other nipple, tongue circling, teeth grazing just enough to make your thighs squeeze together.

he pulls off with a pop, then looks up at you, mouth glossy, voice husky.

“these belong to me, don’t they?” he asks, hands squeezing your tits together just to press a kiss to both at once.

you nod, eyes glassy, lips parted. “yes, sugu…”

he smirks again. “good. because now that they’re healed, baby…”

he leans in, brushing his nose against your chest, lips ghosting over both rings.

“i’m gonna ruin them all over again.”

[deepspace-scenarios]

[scenario/drabble] Not Like That

Summary: LIs react when you hum a breakup song around them, getting worried when they pick up on the lyrics about an unhappy relationship. You comfort them when you realise they misunderstood and got spooked. It all ends well <3 (based on a submitted prompt)

Genre: Fluff (mild hurt/comfort bc the men got terrified)

SYLUS

You hum the chorus while folding laundry, oblivious- until Sylus’s hand stops yours. “Interesting choice of lyrics.” His tone is light, but his crimson eyes are sharp. “Care to explain why you’re singing about replacing me?”

Your stomach drops. Oh, shit- the lyrics. “Wait- I just like the melody-”

He takes a step closer. “Because I hear you singing about... needing someone ‘inside’,”

His lips brush the shell of your ear. “And if that's your wish, I’ll ruin you until you forget your own name.”

His words send a flurry of flashbacks to the night before- him carrying you from the living room to the bed, with you already kissed breathless at that point. And what happened after you got to the bed still brings a fresh wave of heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks.

“You’re thinking loudly again, kitten.”

“Yeah, of you.” You tiptoe, draping your arms on his shoulder to look into his eyes. “Only you,” you murmur, kissing him softly when he leans down, “You’re all I ever want and need, Sylus. I mean it.”

He nips your lip. “Mm. Why don't you say that again?”

You slap his chest lightly, “Don’t push your luck,”

His hands find your hips as he holds you against the dresser, closing the space between you. “Hm. But you owe me a proper apology, sweetie.”

Sylus never pouts, but this is the closest expression he’s ever made. And you see it- just barely hidden by his calm facade- is an earnest longing for reassurance. As if you'd ever, ever need anybody else when he is standing right in front of you. It tugs at your heartstrings.

You brush your thumb along his ear. “I’m sorry for scaring you, baby. I’ll make it up to you,”

His chest rumbles with a satisfied hum as he brings you closer to him.

_____

ZAYNE

Zayne pauses mid-sip of tea as you sing "He gives what he can~" under your breath, pouring yourself a second cup. His hazel-green eyes narrow. “Are you… unhappy?” The question is calm, but his knuckles tighten around his mug.

You open your mouth to explain, but he cuts you off. “I’d rather you tell me than sing it to a playlist.”

His bluntness speaks volumes- while he could be curt and straightforward, it’s rare for him to speak like this on lazy weekend mornings. You feel your heart sink when you see him watching you with unmasked concern. You hurriedly set the teapot down on the coffee table, turning to him.

You place your hands around his, guiding him to put his mug down. “Oh, Zaynie- I’m- it’s not that,”

He blinks, then exhales, gazing at his hands enclosed by yours. Only then, do you move closer to cup his face. “It’s just a random song. I promise. You make me happier than anything.”

He nods, pulling you into his chest. “... Please choose one that doesn’t make my pulse spike.”

You think of the cutest, cheesiest love ballad from animated movies- then you start singing, serenading him. You barely get to the pre-chorus when you see him struggle to fight off a growing smile, and you poke his cheeks, continuing to sing.

“Thank you,” He whispers when you stop, his smile gentle.

You tackle him in a hug, “Don’t thank me, you silly, beautiful man I love you so, so much”

_____

XAVIER

The last of the night’s dishes are cleared away from the table and stacked near the sink. Xavier’s blue eyes widen as you sing "Softer, harder, in between" while rinsing soap off some dishes he hands you.

“You- want that?” His voice cracks.

“Huh?” You freeze when realization hits- you’ve been singing for a while now, and the lyrics are hardly anything suitable for a cosy night in. It’s about intimacy, sure- but also about heartbreak, cheating, and things that you won’t ever relate to. “No! It’s just catchy!”

He steps closer, rinsing his hands under the tap and using the front of his shirt to dry them hastily. Fingers trembling as they brush your waist. “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, or something I’m not doing… whatever you need. Just let me know.”

Pain squeezes your heart. “Xavier, you’re my everything. There’s nothing wrong with us, it’s just a song.”

With a shaky sigh, he buries his face in your neck. “My starlight, please don’t scare me like that. I don't think I can bear the thought of... whatever you were singing about,"

You wrap your arms around him, reaching up to stroke his hair. “Xavi- I shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry, I really am,”

You feel him press a kiss to the side of your neck. “It's ‘kay,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing your skin as he speaks.

"I should've given you context-" you continue, but he shakes his head as he pulls away to look at you, his blue eyes as calm as ever.

His hands on your waist are steady now- firm, even. “There is only one context that matters. Which one are you requesting for tonight? Softer… or harder?”

_____

RAFAYEL

Rafayel drops his paintbrush when you murmur the lyrics "He is stable, you are deep."

“Excuse me? I’m the boring one?!” His eyes flash as whirls around, bristling with indignance.

You try to backtrack, but he’s already draping himself over you. “I’ll drown you in ‘deep,’” he huffs, covering your face in kisses as he nuzzles against you like a disgruntled cat marking his owner. As much as he hates cats, he does act like one in times like these.

“Raf, I'm sorry! It really mmmph–” he smothers you with another kiss, “it's just a song- I'm not-”

You get cut off by a flurry of kisses pressed to your cheeks, the corner of your lips, then your mouth.

You cup his face and squeeze his cheeks likely. “My love, I'm trying to apologize to you!”

He frowns, “And stable is not in my vocabulary. Glub glub,”

(He kisses you senseless, and only then does a satisfied smile return to grace his features.)

_____

CALEB

Caleb’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as you absentmindedly sing a tune that's been on your playlist for the past week.

When you get to the lyrics "Oh yeah, baby, touch me”, he stops you, voice quietly cutting through the cabin. “…Who.”

It’s not a question. You panic when understanding dawns on you. “Wait- it's not- It’s just a song, Caleb!”

He lets out a sharp exhale, keeping his eyes straight ahead and drives until you exit the highway.

He pulls over.

“Then why does it sound like a confession of sorts? Are we having a falling-out?” He grits out.

You gently place your hand over his white-knuckles, brushing your fingers over his. “This song's just been on my playlist… it means nothing to me. I promise, Caleb.”

He sighs, flexing his fingers to release his grip on the steering wheel. He catches your wrist softly, then presses a kiss onto your palm. “Just… tell me if there's something wrong, yeah? You can take it out on me, but just- just don't sing breakup songs like that,”

The desperate tinge in his voice makes your heart sink, and you pull him close to peck his cheek, then his lips. His shoulders loosen, yet his violet eyes glimmer with depths of unspoken fears.

“Okay,” you nod, then tap the tip of his nose lightly. “Mr Colonel, I'm guilty of making you worried, so- you can deal with me as you see fit when we get home,”

He breathes a shaky laugh, raking his fingers through his hair. “God damn, pips. You're really trying to give me cardiac arrest today,”

Note: This came from a submitted prompt <3 It was a little tricky to write bc i couldnt fully imagine how they'd react in that situation ngl?? Lmk what yall think :') also I have a few WIPS but atm my brain is playing kpdh songs all day and its a bit hard to think and write i keep wanting to write lads men as the saja boys ANYWAYS THANKS YALL FOR READING <33 Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated <3

✨️

[salesmancarddd]

Squid game characters x INJURED!Reader

╰┈➤ SPOILERS! some parts includes season 3

✶ Characters: Gi-hun, Nam-gyu, Cho Hyun-ju, Cho Sang-woo, Masked Officer

TW: Toxic-ish relationship (if I missed any tags remind me)

A/N: I'm genuinely speechless after watching season 3, but ngl it was so worth it Ive seen my husband holding a fish on the photo 😭💔 he absolutely looks so stupid

MASTERLIST

GI-HUN

✦ During a games he'll always make sure you're near him in case something goes wrong, he knows you can be on your own but he doesn't let it.

✦ After the failed rebellion, watching his friends die in front of him he was numbed, being chained to bed like a animal for wanting to die, the only relief he got that you're okay (it was a good call he didn't brinf you along with him, but leaving you behind was harder he didn't know if he would see you again)

✦ During a hide and seek, you got a blue team, he wanted you to switch him but you refused being stubborn, the only way he can make sure you're safe is finding you and protecting you, you were the only one he had to keep going

✦ When he wasn't able to find you he started to panic hearing all those screams reminded him of you, in panic he kept running around tyring to find you (this happens after he killed Dae-ho)

✦ In desperation he came across you but someone was attack you in that. moment he didn't even hesitate he immediately pushed him off which other dude was confused on what he was doing

✦ After what happened he realised you were badly injured there's no way for you to even get up and walk

"It's going to be okay" he said that while kept looking at the injury, your eyes were trying not to be in tears but it was hard, he knew that.

in that moment he just picked up and and kept looking for safer place for you to rest untill the game ends

"Just focus on me, alright?" He had you in bride pose while carrying you, he didn't look at you but kept looking ahead, when he found a safer place he put you on the ground, he took off his tracksuit wrapping it around your leg, during this time he didn't talk to much but inside he was panicking.

✦ He definitely felt guilty for not finding you sooner and finding you in this state, you could've died there if he didn't come across you

NAM-GYU

✦ He genuinely didn't care at first when Thanos was alive, you were just fun to them like any person was, having you in group which lead to be made fun mosly Nam-gyu did that.

✦ During a mingle game the team needed to be in two Thanos picked someone else, Nam-gyu just stood there not knowing who to pick, neither did you you accepted your fate, in brief moment he just picked you and dragged you in the room closing the door behind

"What the fuck were you standing there for?" he said in angry tone while trying to mock her, she didn't speak to him back instead she looked a tthe ground.

"Now what are you gonna cry because I yelled?" there was a silence between them before he spoke up again

"Cat got your tongue?" He tilted his head to the side with a smirk on his lips. "Or maybe you're just used to being treated like a doormat." another silence

"Shit you aren't fun" he laughed.

✦ After the game was over he kept he's eyes on you, you didn't even eat when food was given you kept staring it like a doll, your eyes were dollish to him

He couldn't help but smirk at your blank expression. Seeing you like this somehow made him feel in control, like he could do whatever he wanted with you and you won't fight back.

✦ During a hide and seek game he kept looking for you hoping he'll come across you, nobody couldn't kill you untill he decide to

But once he noticed you were wounded and bleeding, he felt a satisfaction but also some type of consern. Of course, he wasn't too sure why he was feeling this way, but that didn't stop him from kneeling in front of you and taking a look at your wounds.

"Found you." He said, his voice a low, menacing tone. He walked towards you slowly, his knife gleaming in the dim lighting. "You didn't think you could hide from me, did you?"

"Nam-gyu.. please.." she spoke Nam-gyu's smirk faded for a moment as he saw the pleading look in your eyes. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze locking with yours.

"Please what?" He asked, his grip on his knife loosening slightly. even in drug influence he stopped and listening just by hearing her say his name, the only person who said his name right.

"Please..please don't.. kill me" her voice sounded so destroyed, tears in her eyes.

Nam-gyu's expression softened ever so slightly, though his gaze remained intense. He took a few breaths before he spoke again. "And why shouldn't I?" He asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"I-.." She was speechless looking at him, fear in her eyes Nam-gyu's eyes narrowed as he watched you struggle to find the words. He could sense the fear in your voice and the way your body was trembling.

He took a step closer to you, his knife still in hand, but his grip on it loosened even more. "Come on, dollface. Say something." He said, his voice taking a slightly more gentle tone but also mockery way.

"please.. help me.." there was a long pause, before she spoke up again "Please Nam-gyu.." Nam-gyu knelt down in front of her, his gaze moving over your body. He noticed the way you were holding yourself, obviously in pain.

He gently reached out, his hand touching your arm. "shit show me where you're hurt, hurry up" he didn't even countine killing other people instead he stayed there and tried to help her.

✦ After that game he started to lose control without drug he couldn't focus or do anything, you tried keeping him calm and speaking to him, which on some part it helped

CHO HYUN-JU

✦ The first time she met you was during red light, green light, when she seen you struggling to stay calm.

✦ After the game was over she she couldn't help but notice you sitting alone, struggling to keep your composure she slowly approaches, her footsteps silent as she takes a seat beside you. For a moment, she simply gazes at you.

"You're quite shaken up."

Her voice is low, but surprisingly soft. She takes in your distressed state, the tension in your shoulders, the way your hands tremble ever so slightly.

"I guess so" she spoke up, Hyun-ju lets the silence linger for a moment before speaking again, her tone even and cautious.

"It's normal to feel on edge after that game. Everyone's just... trying to survive."

✦ After a small talk between you two, you became closer to her, you weren't sure if she even wanted you to be with her, the conversation were awkward.

✦ The spinning platform slowly begins to move, the lights and sounds around them a dizzying blur. The robotic voice announces, "Three."

Hyun-ju's grip on your arm tightens just a fraction, her eyes darting around the room, assessing the other players. When she was able to find one more player to join in that's when she lost you in crowd in panic she kept calling out your name while there was a countdown.

✦ When she found you, your arm was injured apparently someone grabbed your arm while you weren't looking and dragged you

✦ Her protective instincts kick in, and her mind zeroes in on you

Ignoring the ongoing countdown, she quickly rushes to your side, her face etched with concern. "Are you okay?"

She gently tries to move your arm, testing the range of motion.

"The countdown" You spoke up Hyun-ju's head snaps up as the robotic voice announces the countdown, reminding them that the time to reach safety is running out.

Hyun-ju: "Damnit..." in brief moment she picked you up and carried you to safer room

✦ After the game was over she checked your injury trying to help

CHO SANG-WOO

✦ You two didn't talk at all the first time you two met, the only reason you tow know each other existence is because of Gihun

✦ Over time, you and Sangwoo grew distant from each other, but you still occasionally talked. Sangwoo mostly agreed with what you said, as he often shared the same views.

✦ During a glass bridge game he seen you being more nervous it's like you were afraid of the height or dying either way he didn't pay attention to it to much, but he still kept he's eyes on you.

He could tell you were getting nervous even without looking at how your hand was tightly gripping on your shirt, how you were shaking ever so slightly. He sighed quietly, not turning around but talking behind.

"The more you look down, the more your mind spirals in panic." he said in gentle voice

"I'm trying" the panic in her tone

"Take deep breaths. Inhale, hold, and exhale. Focus on my voice, nothing else." he said while jumping on the glass

✦ Time was running out, the countdown nearing the zero mark and Sang-Woo watched as you hastily moved forward. Time seemed to slow down, his eyes locked with yours.

✦ Next, glass was shattered and pieces were flying through the air. Sang-Woo's eyes widened in alarm as a piece of glass made huge scar on your cheek

He approached you hastily, his hand gently hovering over the injure

"Let me see," He said, a bit demanding. His fingers lightly grabbed your chin and turned your head to get a better look at the cut.

"It okay it's not that big deal" she tried to crack a joke with it Sang Woo scoffed

"Not that big of a deal?" He repeated, his grip on your chin slightly tightening. "It's bleeding."

"It's just a little cut, cmon on let's go" Sang-Woo rolled his eyes, irritation starting to brew at your stubborn attitude but let it go

✦ Over some time he seemed to be more over sligly protective over you, he still didn't speak with you that much but he kept he's eyes on you

MASKED OFFICER

✦ When you first time joined it was all eyes on you but not in good way, since you were younger the rest of them you were fully a target to anyone

✦ Masked Officer kept a good eye on you seeing you different then others, you weren't following his rules always which lead to many calls into office giving her warning for her behavior, it was something he got used to it

✦ During the rebellion, you were sent along with other guards to shoot the rioters. In a brief moment, as you were firing, a bullet struck your arm, causing a loud gasp that made you fall to the ground.

✦ As the masked officer watched the cameras on the TV screen, he realized you were likely there as well. In a moment of urgency, he grabbed a Walkie-talkie and called out to you, but there was no response. He then began contacting other nearby guards to assess the situation.

✦ When the guard mentioned how many guards were injured, he paused and then said, "Guard 020." He continued listening intently. In a cold tone, he ordered any guard to bring her to his office. Hesitant, the guard obeyed his order, escorting her there bleeding from her arm, half passed out, half awake. The other gaurd left them alone leaving the room.

"Why the hell were you there!?" he asked, a hint of irritation and concern barely masking his tone. "I told you to stay where you were, and you can't even follow that." He took a sip of whiskey, glancing at you on the ground, then let out a long sigh.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" he said as he approached, kneeling down to her level. His voice was a mix of gentleness and anger. "Let me see your arm." You didn’t speak the entire time, only kept looking at him.

[scarletttries]

I don't even play CoD or write Ghost but something about this set up is absolutely living in my mind right now. 👻

After a couple of weeks of 'practicing' you let Johnny know you're ready for him to set you up with his cute friend in the ghost mask, and surely enough Ghost's more than happy to meet you at a bar just outside of the base. You two barely finish your first drink before you suggest heading back to your place for the next one and suddenly your nails are digging into his biceps as he carries you across to your bed, not letting his bare chest leave yours for even a second as he climbs on top of you. His mask is pulled up just enough for his lips to cascade hungry kisses from your open lips down your torso, and then your underwear is gone and his tongue is frantically lapping at your core, bringing you to the edge before you can even get his pants down.

The way he's groaning and panting between your thighs makes it hard to remember why you brought him here, but you're not about to waste all your efforts training with that dildo so the next time he makes you see stars you drag his covered face back to your lips, his tongue quickly diving between your lips as you start undoing his belt, the intimidating bulge in his pants twitching as your fingers work against his buckle. You can feel Ghost tense up, start trying to pull himself away from your sweet kiss so he can manage your expectations about what's about to happen.

"It's - uh-" he's not sure he can conjure up the words as you nip at the exposed parts of his neck and gently roll him onto his back so you can finish getting the rest of his clothes out of the way. He's surprised at how little you react to his size as it springs free, your face nothing but determination and beaming joy as you pump him in your hand, moving to straddle his thighs as he watches helplessly. "Sorry - it's" he tries again, using his bulging biceps to sit himself up so he can look you in the eye to explain. You look so pleased and warm as you plant a soft kiss against his lips and start to line his length up with your entrance, taking your time to run his tip over your wet folds and throbbing clit.

"Don't worry Simon, I knew you'd be big. So I've been practicing." You say the words like he should know what they mean, his eyes glazing over behind his mask as you start to slowly slide the head of his cock inside you, moving with soft, careful bounces that pull the air right out of the usually composed soldier's lungs.

"Practicing?" He splutters out the words with a moan, gripping your thighs with all his strength just to try and keep his composure as he watches himself disappear inside you at a tortuously slow pace.

"Yeah, someone told me how big you were so I got this a toy your size and I've been practicing fitting it inside me. It's been pretty fun, and I've been thinking of you a lot." The confession came with the same wide eyed innocence with which you might admit to put a note in someone's locker, Simon's swimming head barely able to comprehend the mental image of you fantasising about this moment. As he stared at you, mouth agape, you brought his hands gently to your chest where they began obediently kneading at your breasts and grazing your sensitive nipples. Just about regaining the ability to form a sentence, he has to hear you say it again,

"So you're saying you've been fucking yourself on a toy this big, and making yourself cum thinking about me, so you could go out with me?" He sounds drunk as the words spill from his lips, the feeling of your tight walls slowly lowering around him as you arch your back into his touch almost enough to finish him off right there. You look so perfect as you sink down on his lap, nails digging into his shoulders as your lips slowly part into a blissful smile.

"Well yeah - I like you Simon." It's too much for him as you take in his final aching inch and look him in the eyes and smile so sweetly, his name sounding wonderfully familiar in your saccharine confession. He's been in countless dangerous situations, but Ghost's sure he's never felt quite as unprepared as he does right now. He doesn't know what he possibly could have done to deserve this, but he knows he's going to do everything he can to make sure you feel his appreciation. He's still groping your chest needily so you don't move yet, watching the gears turn in his head as his aching heart implores him to say the words back. In one swift move his mask is dragged off his face and thrown halfway across the room, your smile only growing as you lean in closer to appreciate every new detail of his expression.

"I like you too, love." The words are quieter than he intended them to be, but his lips are so close to yours that you hear them clearly, then suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and his hips are bucking up into you and his fingers are playing with nipples when they aren't rubbing soft circles over your clit. You may have practiced fitting his enormous cock inside you, but nothing could have prepared you for the overwhelming pleasure of bouncing in Ghost's lap while he does everything he can to thank you for taking a chance on him.

You make an offhand comment to ur friend Johnny abt how hot that guy hes always hanging out with is. Yknow, the behemoth of a man who makes hilariously dark jokes and wears a mask? Yeah that one.

Its said in passing, and ur pretty sure Johnny forgets abt it entirely, until late one night he sends u a link to a dildo??? And its like, big, right? Much bigger than anything u go for. Johnny knows this, bc who doesnt discuss their sex life with their bestie? So u reply back "Johnny wtf u know thats not my thing, its huge lol."

His response? "Well I'd start practicin' if you wanna take on my 'hot friend'. Its to scale ;)"

...you add the dildo to ur cart.

[lilbitt]

What are Brothers For?

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore X Annie

A/N: Sooo, Hi! I write a lil bit, but I’ve never written fan fiction a day in my life and I blame this entirely on Michael and Wumni for shooting that scene the way they did. And I blame Ryan too, for leaving it like that. My brain wouldn’t let me rest until I got these words out on a google doc and I figured I’d post it, cause why not. Lol enjoy, or don’t idk. May not be that amazing but EYE was cheesing while writing it. Also, this is damn near 9k words. I, honest to God, tried to end it at 5k, then 6, then 7 and Stack and Annie? Yea, those mfs were NOT letting me. I do not take responsibility for this length. It ended when they were done 👐🏾

C/W: A lil angst, SMUT, cursing, a beginner in writing southern dialect 🥹, MDI

She should have felt it. As soon as she opened her eyes and dragged herself out of bed. If not then, while she prayed and tended to her alter. If not then, while she washed up and ate a quick breakfast. And if not then, while she opened up shop, despite the rare but heavy downpour that’d started, and that didn’t leave her anticipating many – if any – visitors. She shoulda’ felt that something was….off – something in the air that would make an ordinary Tuesday, unordinary. But she hadn’t.

She blamed it on her mood, on the nasty attitude she’d been tryin’, and failin’, to shake. It’d overtaken her senses. The persistent thrum of irritation buzzing under her skin. The annoyance that’d started off twisting low in her stomach, before slitherin’ its way up to her chest where it settled – heavy and uncomfortable. The anger that gripped at her throat – pointed, hot, unrelentin’ like the Mississippi heat. It was all too heavy, and all that heaviness was distractin’. 

Still, she tried to go on like business as usual. 

While rain pounded on the roof, Annie worked. Or she started to, taking some light inventory, and then staring into space as if orders filled themselves. As if enough doing nothing could clear her head, and settle her heart, and allow her to do the sacred work her people trusted her with. Truth was, she hadn’t felt clear – hadn’t felt at peace – in days. And maybe that was her fault. Keeping her thoughts to herself and not speakin’ the words she knew she should be mature enough to express. 

Words she felt she shouldn’t have to express. 

And that’s what really had her swallowin’ down the things that’d be better off spoken. Cause, before, they hadn’t needed words.  Annie and Smoke had put the work in, learned each other inside out – had energies so intertwined they could sense when everything was all good. Could sense when it was the opposite. And all it took was a look, a touch, a twitch of a lip to fill each other out and fix what was goin’ on. Even after he’d left for some years, chasing money she didn’t ask for and running behind a brother that would never sit still, their connection was still there. Hadn’t just disappeared. She could still read him better than any bones she threw. And he could still read her – should still be able to read her. Pick up on her moods. Fix what was wrong. But, Annie guessed to fix what was wrong – one had to notice somethin’ was wrong, and to notice somethin’ was wrong, one had to be around – and these days? His black ass never was. 

Between the Juke, and whateva’ the hell else he and Stack got up to, Annie didn’t see much difference between him being up north versus back here in the Delta. He was never around when he’d run off to Chicago, and he was hardly around now. 

Annie sucked her teeth, just thinkin’ about it. Why should she have to beg for a scrap of his attention after he’d left her? After she’d taken him back despite the pain he’d caused? The pain he was still causing? She wouldn’t do it. Shouldn’t have to do it. Not when he’d talked so much shit ‘bout how he loved her, and was sorry, and was ready ta’ pick up where they left off. It had all sounded good, but words anit mean nothin’ when the only time he cared to be around was when he was sleepin’. 

She was confused, and angry, and hurt, and neglected, and horny and it was fuckin’ wit her mojo. She was love and light, and he was bringin’ storm clouds.

Annie shook her head at herself, laughing, completely unamused. “Who else but the great Elijah Moore to get me outta character?” He made her sick. An’ she wanted him to fix it. 

A pounding, heavy like the rain, but louder and harsher on her ears, startled Annie out of her thoughts, and she jumped a little, head turning towards her door. The wood threatened to cave in, somebody was kockin’ so hard. 

“Now just who in the hell–?”

“Annie! Girl, open this do’. A nigga ‘bouta drown out here!” 

Her big brown eyes were rolling before Stack even finished speaking. This anit the Moore she’d asked for. Still, she padded across the room to answer, save he actually break her door down and she have to cut him as a result. She swung the door open, just as Stack, who stood protected from the rain on her porch, had raised his hand to ‘knock’ again. 

“You done lost yo mind bangin’ on my door like that? What’s wrong with you?” 

Stack’s thick lips split into a grin, arm dropping at his side. 

“Now, why you gotta greet a nigga like that Annie? I was just makin’ sure you heard me.” His dimple popped, gold caps glinting. “Now lemme in. It’s nasty out here girl. Hot as hell too.” 

And it was. Just cause it was raining in the Delta, didn’t mean it was cool in the Delta. The heat was still there. Now it was just wet heat – thick and humid and suffocating. Still, Annie didn’t move, crossing her arms under her heavy bosom instead. 

“What chu’ want Stack?”  

His shoulders rose then dropped, lips still curved up. “I was in the area.” 

Annie’s cheek didn’t even twitch. 

Stack wrinkled his nose playfully.

“You so mean sometimes,” he laughed. “Nah, you got me. I’m playin’ errand boy. Smoke sent me to check up on ya’. Figured it was gone start rainin’ and wanted to make sure you was good. Glad my ass left ‘fo it really started coming down.” 

Annie’s cheek twitched at that. But not cause she thought somethin’ was funny. Wasn’t shit funny bout what he’d just said actually. 

“‘Scuse me?” 

The heavy feeling that already sat in her chest grew heavier, distractin’ her and allowing Stack to slide inside, her feet shifting unconsciously to let him by. 

He walked in like he owned the place, eyes flitting over the herbs, and spices, and everything else she had lining the shelves in her shop. He didn’t know if he believed in all that – magic, and spells, and spirits. There was damn sure no magic present when he was growin’ up. No spirits watchin’ over him. No spells to make the bad go away. But shit, maybe it wasn’t like that for everybody – maybe some niggas had somebody on the other side lookin’ out. And maybe he’d had his brother, and his brother’d had him and that was all they’d needed to get through. 

“He sent you to what?” Stack turned around to face her.

“To check on you. Why you looking like that?” 

Annie didn’t know how she was looking. But she could guess. She felt her eyes squint further, like she could make sense of the words Stack was saying. Not that they were hard to comprehend, just that–

“Why he couldn’t bring his ass down here and check on me himself?” 

Stack blinked. Then smirked. 

“He holed up in his lil office, stressin’ bout numbers like always. What, you miss him? Yo man’ll be back tonight girl.” 

Annie laughed. Sharp, decisive, done.

“The hell he will,” Annie started walking, stompin’ really, deeper into the house, leaving the door wide open. “You can take yo’ happy ass right back down to that Juke Joint and tell ‘im I’m just fine. And tell that nigga to get comfortable down there while you at it, cause he anit comin back here. Run that errand.”

She entered her small kitchen, pacing back and forth to work out some of her energy. He’d been coming in after she’d already went to bed, rising before her eyes were open in the morning, and now he couldn’t be bothered to come out and check on her himself? 

Stack didn’t go back to the Juke. Instead, he closed the door, shutting them off from the rain that was coming down harder than before – as if it sensed the river of emotion welling up in Annie – and followed behind her.

“Uh,” his voice paused Annies pacing. She turned her head sharply in his direction, eyebrow arched like she dared him to say somethin’ stupid. “Y’all havin a lil lovers spat or somethin’?” 

“Or somethin’.” Her voice was flat. “I anit in the mood for you or yo brothers shit today. You can let yoself out.” It wasn’t Stack she was mad at. Not really. She loved Stack, not so much as a brother, but more so as an extension of Smoke. There wasn’t one without the other. Elijah wouldn’t be Elijah without Elias, and vice versa, so she’d made space for both men in her life when she committed to being with one. Right now though, she didn’t have space for either of them, especially Stacks childish ass.

“Now hol’ on,” he stepped further into the kitchen, voice light, lips tugging upwards like this was a game. “Why it gotta be all that? Big brotha’ fuckin’ up? What he do? Talk to Stacky Stack.” He pulled out a chair, plopping down and leaning back, spreading his legs wide like he had all the time in the world. Like Annie wasn’t spitting fire at him with her eyes. 

“You think this funny Stack?” She stood directly in front of him, lips twisting up. “You anit bout to come up in here, treating me like I’m a joke, cause you a child stuck in a grown man’s body, and can’t take nothin’ serious. Now I told you to leave.” 

His eyes got comically big, “Who said you was a joke??” 

She’d opened her mouth to respond, stepping forward threateningly, and he quickly cut her off. 

“Annie, swea’ fo’ God, I don’t think you a joke. I know better than that. My bad for playin’.” He raised his hands in surrender, dropping any smirk that’d lingered on his lips. “I just anit know y’all was fighting, is all. Anit like y’all.” 

Annie considered him for a moment, and then sighed, shoulders losing their defensive edge, and feet starting to pace again. 

“We ain’t fightin’,” she mumbled. “He gotta be around for us to fight.” She was talking moreso to herself, finally speaking the words that’d been tumbling ‘round in her brain the last few days. “Maybe I was mistakin’ thinkin’ we could pick up where we left off. Thinkin’  that spark was still there. Maybe things done changed too much. It gotta be that. Been waiting on him all this time, just for him to come back and treat me like this? It anit that much busy in the world.” 

Annie huffed, shaking her head. “Maybe I just need to cut my losses. Go be wit’ somebody that wonna wake up to me in the morning at least.” 

Those last words were spoken out of hurt, just her venting mostly, but Stack sat straight up, eyes narrowing on her with a seriousness that rivaled his brothers. 

“What chu’ mean?” 

Annie paused, blinking, and turning her head to face the younger twin like she’d just remembered he was there. 

He was watching her, posture stiff, muscles tensed in his collared shirt like he didn’t plan to exhale til she answered. 

Annie raised an eyebrow. She knew why he was looking like that, and she doubled down, purely out of spite. 

“I meant what I said. Maybe I needa’ find somebody new. Put all this old shit behind me.” 

There. Let him run back to the Juke and report that to Elijah. 

Stack studied her for a beat and then slowly, much to her amusement, shook his head. Like she’d just asked him for permission to move on. 

“Nah. We ain’t gone go and do that. The nigga been a lil busy – I’ll give you that. I’ll tell him start bringing his ass home earlier, but you know he love you. You anit gon’–”

“I anit gon’ what?” She cut him off, laughing. “Stack, I’ma grown ass woman and I’ma do whatever I please.” 

Her laughter stopped. “Just like he do whatever he please.” The anger that’d been gripping her throat, let go, and the words came pouring out her mouth like lava. “The nigga like a ghost. After leaving me for all these years, he come back, and he like a ghost. Always at that damn Juke Joint, and wherever else he be. Ain’ never got time for me. For the woman that prayed over him every day while he was gone. For the woman that prayed over his brother. 

“No. Its fuck me. And he anit even been doin’ that. So if I wonna be wit’ somebody who actually present – who don’t avoid me like I’m the klan – who wants to be around me, and talk to me, and touch me, I can do that and it anit a thang a Moore on this earth can do about it,” she looked pointedly at Stack. “Any Moore.” 

A boom of thunder rang out, loud, and deep, and damn near shaking the little shack. It was warning them of the storms to come. Warning them that the rain wouldn’t be stopping no time soon, and that the Delta better get ready for a flood.

Neither party in the kitchen flinched at the sound. Their eyes remained locked, Annie’s chest rising and falling in anger, Stack still unmoving, still tense. He broke eye contact first, ‘hmming’ in the back of his throat, eyes darting to the floor before jumping back to hers. He nodded once, like he’d just made a decision, and then sat back in the chair, legs spreading wide again, shoulders dropping in that low easy way of his. He tilted his head back a little, let his eyelids drop slightly.

“C’mere.”  

Annie blinked. 

“Boy what?” His tone had dropped, voice low and thick and sweet – like honey. A tone that probably worked on every other woman in the Delta. Annie just looked at him like he was crazy. 

“You heard me. C’mere.” 

She stayed where she was, arms crossing, and eye brow raising in warning. 

“Boy, if you don’t get up, go on somewhere, an’ stop playin’ wit me. I just told you, this anit a game.” 

“You right, it anit.” He let his eyes roam her lazily, cocking his head a little as he traced over the swell of her chest, the curve of her hips, the softness of her stomach. He let her see that he was looking, even as her eyes narrowed dangerously at his gaze. “It anit a game at all Annie,” he was still talking low. “You plannin’ on gettin’ some random niggas killed, all cause you a lil mad right now and that ain’t right girl.” 

Annie’s face screwed up.

“Cause I’m ma–”

He cut her off.

“You say Smoke anit takin’ care of business? I believe you. His drawers up his ass right now. The nigga done forgot what he got at home. That’s his bad. Lemme talk to ‘im. But you know anit gon’ be no other niggas Annie. Don’t even talk like that. 

“You say you needa’ be listened to? Needa’ be touched? Needa’ work out some of that pressure? I’ll handle allat right now, but don’t make ’im – make us – put some nigga six feet deep cause you wonna act out.” 

Her mouth parted, no words coming out, as she processed what he’d just said. 

“Now, c’mere.” He jerked his head lazily, signaling for her to step forward. 

The processing was done. 

She laughed. Not meanly. Not angrily. Genuinely laughed for what felt like the first time in forever. The sound that bubbled up out of her throat wasn’t light and airy and polite. She was damn near wheezing, hunched over like he’d just told the joke of the decade. The sheer audacity of the Moore men – of men in general – needed to be studied. She didn’t even think Stack was playin’. She believed he was dead serious and that made her laugh harder, right there in the kitchen in front of his face, paying no mind to the way his lips started frowning up – to the way his eyes narrowed. 

“What’s funny?” 

She wiped at her eyes, standing up straight, and trying to get her shoulders to stop shaking. 

“You Stack. You are what’s funny,” she looked him dead in the eyes, not phased by the look she saw on his face. She saw that same look on Smoke’s face all the time. The exact same look – literally. “You think you can ‘handle’ me and Smoke wouldn’t put you six feet deep? You think you, can tell me, what I can and cannot do? You think if I even let you touch me, you’d have the slightest idea of what to do wit’ all this?” She chortled. “Nigga please. Even if you did know what to do wit’ me, an’ you don’t, it anit gone fix what Smoke is doin’. You don’t know nothin’ bout this Stack.” 

Stack shook his head.

“Anit ‘bout fixin’ what he doin’. It’s ‘bout makin’ sure you good, til he fix what he doin. Makin’ sure you don’t make us drop no bodies cause you anit thinkin’ straight.” He wasn’t laughing wit her. But he was smirking now. Leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely. Even as his jaw jumped. He made himself focus on the other thing she’d said, letting that shit ‘bout not being able to handle her go unacknowledged. For now.

“You anit gotta worry bout me. This anit ‘bout me and Smoke anit puttin’ me six feet no where. Y’know it don’t work like that Annie. I am Smoke. Smoke is me. I’m bouta help my brother keep the best thing that ever happened to him. That ain’t the same as you havin’ some random nigga thinkin’ he can slide up in here and take what anit his.” He suddenly stood, and Annie instinctively took a step back, before remembering who she was and squaring her shoulders. 

“Now, you gone c’mere’ or you gon’ make me come over there?” 

Annie’s voice was more serious the next time she spoke. 

“Stack..” she warned. “Enough of yo games. Go ‘on somewhere–”

He was up on her. Two long strides is all it took to close the distance between them and he had his chest pressed to her titties, stomach flush with hers, one arm locked tight around her waist, before she could even startle. 

Annie’s arms instinctively went to push at him as she breathed, 

“Stack what the– mmmm,”

Her own words trailed off, dying on her tongue, when his other hand gently, but swiftly, tilted her face, and his fat tongue hit her neck. 

“Stop being ungrateful. I’m tryna’ look out.” 

There was no hesitation as he tongued her neck, and Annie’s brain clouded for a moment when he tongued at a particular spot, sucking gently and then harder, when he realized what he’d found on the first try. 

She wasn’t laughing, or sassing him, now. Now, she was being reminded of just how long it’d been since she’d had a man wrapped around her like this. Being reminded of how good it felt. She almost titled her head back to give Stack more room to work, fingers instinctively clenching at the fabric of his shirt – before she remembered this was indeed, Stack sucking on her neck like he had every right and all the time in the world. 

She resumed pushing at the solid frame in front of her. 

“Stack, c’mon now. Stop, hmm, stop playin’.” 

He gave one last hard suck on her spot, before pulling his head back to look at her. She was trying to look stern, lips pressed in a firm line, eyebrows furrowed. But them eyes – them big brown eyes, told it all. His gold caps glinted, hand rubbing at her lower back, right above where all that ass she had on her sat. 

“Who playin?” He licked his lips like he could still taste her skin. “Told you, I’m helpin’. You needa be touched?” His hands were suddenly gripping at her dress, pulling at the blue layers, raising the fabric. “I got chu’ Annie. You anit gotta get niggas killed cause you need some lovin’. I’ll get that anger worked out of ya.” 

Her hands dropped from his chest, down to her dress, pushing the fabric back down whenever he went to pull it up. Once. Twice. Thrice. His movements were lazy, consistent but unrushed, his deep brown eyes glittering with amusement and the beginning sparks of lust. Annie on the other hand, was fighting for her life. 

“Stack, I will put a root on yo’ ass!” The threat didn’t have the intended affect, cause her pupils were blown just a little too wide, nipples poking at her dress just a little to pointedly, voice coming out just a little too breathless. She couldn’t let him get that dress up. One, cause it was Stack and two, cause–

“Gahhh damn. This pussy always dripping like this, or that’s just cause of me?” Between their dance of pushing her dress up and down, one of his slick hands had managed to get underneath the fabric. He anit even waste time toying wit’ her, smoothly working his fingers into her drawers and between her fat, soft lips. Annie gasped, brain short circuiting for a moment as his thick digits slid up and down her vulva, not aiming for anything in particular just yet. Just feelin’ all that wet. Stack smirked sharply. 

“Why y’all women do that? This pussy needy as hell, and you tryna deny her. Mm, mm, mm,” his fingers fluttered over her hole and then slid right back up. Up and down, up and down. “This shit don’ even make no sense. I barely touched you.” He shook his head like it was a shame.

 “Yeah, Smoke fuckin’ up. You got every right to be mad girl. Wet ass pussy like this, you needa’ be taken care of every day. Shit.” The rain falling outside was no match to the fuckin’ tsunami he had his fingers sliding through right now. Stack wanted all that wet in his mouth. Around his fingers. Around his dick. When he got back to the Juke, he and Smoke was gon’ have words, cause that nigga was trippin’, letting all this slip through his fingers. 

Annie’s breath stuttered when his fingers just barely brushed her button, and then left it alone. Like he was teasing her. She choked back a noise that was rising in her throat at the loss, letting go of the useless hold she had on her dress and gripping his wrist instead. She just held it, like she didn’t know whether to pull his hand away or push it back upwards, under her hood where her clit had started to poke. While she contemplated, Stack’s fingers still leisurely explored. He felt her soft curls, her softer lips, that hard clit he was purposefully avoiding, and his mouth watered. Slowly, he worked his fingers back down, ignoring the way her hand tightened on his wrist and positioning his thick digits at her entrance.

“Stack, shit, Elias wait,” At the sound of his real name, Stack paused, eyes jumping back up to meet hers. Annie’s lips were parted, eyes low but still sharp, still working, like she was deciding on something. 

“What? You really ain’ bout to let me give this pussy what she want?” He asked, the playful edge in his voice not really that playful. 

They both felt the way her little hole had started twitching, like it could sense something wanted to enter and was glad to let it in. There was no denyin’ the juices that were running over his fingers and sticking to her thick thighs – no denyin’ the heady scent of her pussy that rested in the air between them, warm and spicy and enticing. 

Annie studied him. Face so much like Elijah’s, but so different – much like their personalities. She bit her lip, turned something over in her head, shook a memory from the past away and then made her decision. 

“If we do this, and you don’t leave this pussy ruined, you will walk outta here with a root on you.” And she halfway meant it. 

This wasn’t ‘bout Smoke, or whatever the hell was wrong wit’ him. Wasn’t ‘bout the past, or even Stack really. This was ‘bout Annie getting hers. After the way she’d been feelin’? She deserved. 

Stack’s head cocked, teeth flashing like a shark who’d just caught the scent of blood. His eyes shined mischievously, a “Be careful what you ask for,” dropping from his lips, like a promise and a warning, right before two thick digits buried themselves to the hilt in Annie’s soft channel. 

Her head fell back immediately, a whimpering, “Oh fuck,” falling from her lips. He was stretchin’ her, that tight pussy of hers locking down on his fingers like it was trying to stop the intrusion and make sure it never left at the same time. 

“Mmmm,” Stack kissed at the column of her throat, trying to pull his fingers out a little and smirking when he couldn’t. “You gotta lighten up. Let me work.” 

Annie wasn’t tryna hear that. 

“Either you know how to break in tight pussy, or you don’t.”

Stack had her laid flat on her kitchen table before she could exhale. Annie gasped, doe eyes bugging impossibly wider as she looked up at Stack. 

He’d yanked his fingers out of her heat, turned her big fine ass around, and laid her out like a Sunday dinner after church. 

“‘Thas’ like the third time you done talked to me like that. Like cause I’m tha’ lil brother, I’m a lil nigga.” He forced her legs open, forced her dress up and out his way, eyeing the damn near translucent gusset of her underwear. “Promise yah Annie, that’ll be tha’ last time you do that.” 

He ripped her drawers off her like they were made of paper, and before Annie could even hiss at the stingin’ feeling it’d left on her thighs, Stack was on his knees, fingers buried back in her tight heat, and tongue deep between her lips. He damn near put his whole face in the pussy and Annie’s hips shot up instinctively, running from that good feeling he suddenly had thrumming through her body. Stack wasn’t trippin’, he just followed. Like a dog with a bone. Flattening his wide tongue and licking through her sticky wetness long and slow, like he was gathering as much of her juice as he could on the way up to her clit. 

And when he got there? 

It was like music to his ears – mo’ beautiful than the blues even – the way she moaned his name. 

“Stack, oh my God.” 

It’d been so long since she had somebody on that spot. 

Stack locked his lips around her bud, eyes peering up at them big heaving titties and that pretty face he could barely see, as he circled his tongue clockwise, then counterclockwise, and back again around her bundle of her nerves. Her mouth was dropped open but her pussy was like a vice around his fat fingers, and this time he anit say nothin’ bout her needing to lighten up. He just forced her open. Just broke her in. He worked his fingers in and out of her gushy walls, fighting back against the tight snap of her hole over and over again. 

“Hmm, oh shiit.” Her eyes closed on their own accord, hands scratching at the table like she was looking for something to ground her. It felt like her pussy was alive the way it was pulsing – the way it was crying. Annie didn’t even know what to do with all the good she was feeling. Hadn’t expected to be seein’ stars like this. For as much as Stack played, he was takin’ this serious. Lapping at her clit like he was scared it would disappear, like he was delirious for her pussy, jaw be damned. On and on it went, licking all the way down to where his fingers were buried. Licking all the way back up to that special spot, and giving it the attention it was askin fo’. 

He let his teeth graze her button and Annie keened, hips finally dropping back on the table with a thud. 

“Fuck, Stack. Do that again.” It was just on the right side of too much. Toeing that line of pleasure and pain that made everything go fuzzy. 

He soothed her clit with his fat tongue, and for once, followed orders. Let his teeth, gold caps and all, graze her bundle of nerves again. And again. And again. Always soothing her in between. Always working his fingers in and out of her center, groaning into the pussy as her juices took over his senses. 

She matched him, groaning louder, hand finding the top of his head, as her hips rose again. Not running. But using. 

“Eat that fuckin pussy Stack. Eat that gushy fuckin pussy. This what I deserve.” 

She anit have to be on his face to ride his tongue. She was guiding him, movin’ his head where she wanted, hips rolling slow as they raised up, then dropping back down fast, lovin’ the way her fat clit felt against his tongue.   

“Ouuu, Stack.” She spit his name out, teeth clenched so hard that if she wasn’t careful, she’d break one. 

“Why are you eating it like that, fuck.” 

Stack fought the hold she had on his head, raising his face up for a second. His twinkling brown eyes looked dark as tar now. His facial hair dripping wit’ her essence. His voice guttural when he said, 

“Cause this how good pussy deserve to be eaten Annie.” 

And then he was back in it. Tongue hitting every spot she had down there. Fingers twisting up inside of her like he was searching for something hidden. Annie’s eyes rolled, body falling back on to the table for good as Stack thrummed her clit with his tongue like he was playin’ guitar. 

She was starting to feel achy down there. In a way that had her pushin’ at his head for him to stop, when what she really needed was for him to keep goin’. And he knew that. Stack brought his free hand up, locking his fingers with hers and keeping her out his way. 

Another boom of thunder sounded outside. Still warning of that flood that would surely be comin’ soon. 

“Stack. S-stack. You eating it too good. I can’t - I can’t–”

But she would. 

Stack lathered her clit in his spit. Pushed his fingers back inside her. Held ‘em there. Angled ‘em down. And then told all that sweet cream to come on, fingers curling up in a come hither motion. 

And Annie? 

Annie almost crossed to the other side before it was her time. 

She screamed, big thighs clamping around his head, stomach tightening viciously for a second and then completely deflating as her pussy gushed, releasing all that pint up juice she’d been holding. 

Stack let her smother him. He anit care. He’d die in the pussy, right between ha’ thick ass thighs if he had to. Long as she got what she needed. Long as it put her head back on straight. Smoke always cleaned up Stack’s messes, Stack was committed to returning the favor. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Stack!” 

Annie flooded his mouth. 

Stack drunk it all. 

Big tongue slurping at her nectar, trying to get up in her hole and get it from the source. He was greedy. And that trait remained firmly intact whether he was chasing money, or eating pussy.

Annie banged her hands on the table, hips turning every which way as Stack sucked her through her orgasm. 

Words fell from her mouth in a language he didn’t understand. He anit have to understand it though, to know she was sayin’ she felt good. 

By the time she was pushing at his head again, her sensitive center actually needed a break. The pussy was quiverin’, it was so overwhelmed. He obliged, pulling his face from between her thighs, lickin’ his lips and shakin’ his head like he hadn’t gotten enough of her. 

“Could bottle that shit and sell it girl. Fuck some herbs,” Stack flexed his jaw as he stood and stepped back, lookin’ down where she laid splayed out on the table. 

His dick was past solid. Hard like his head. And lookin’ at her, dress halfway up her stomach, legs spread wide and still trembling, rich dark skin that he now knew for a fact tasted as sweet as it looked – he was ready to give her what she really needed. Somethin’ to really work that anger out of her, till Smoke got his fuckin’ head on straight. His hands went to his slacks. 

Annie was still tryin’ to catch her breath, eyes still screwed shut, body still in another dimension. That was the type of mouth you did put a root on – just to keep it comin’ back. The tension she had been carryin’ in her body all day – all month damn near, had leaked right out of her body with the rest of the liquid she’d gushed out. Annie felt her lips tug up, head still far in the clouds and body still mostly mush. 

“Guess you don’t got that big ass mouth for no reason,” she teased. 

Stack let out a bark of laughter and she cracked her eyes open. 

 “I anit got this big ass dick for no reason neither.” 

Annie managed to prop herself up on her elbows, eyes dropping from Stack’s smirking face, down to the long thick dick he held in his hands. Annie blinked, her center clenching, like she hadn’t just came five seconds ago. She watched as Stack stroked himself, from root to tip, pearly white drops beading at his mushroom head. Pretty dick for a pretty nigga. She bit her lip, eyes jumping back to his face. 

He smirked, but it wasn’t playful. It was salacious. It made her center clench again. 

He stepped forward. 

“Before I give you this,” he stroked his dick, “I wonna’ say sorry.” 

Annie’s brows furrowed. 

“Nigga left all them years ago cause I convinced him to go.”

Annie felt her high fading fast. 

“Stack, I don’t want to–”

“Nah, lemme talk Annie,” he cut her off, taking his last step forward, lettin’ go of himself in favor of grippin’ her hips – pulling them closer to the edge of the table. 

Annie choked in surprise, gasping when Stack’s big hands went to the back of her thighs next, putting them in the air and making her legs fold in on themselves. She felt her pussy spread open, like a flower blossomin’, cause of the new position.

“Stack -”

“Maybe if we wouldn’t of never left, the nigga wouldn’t be actin’ so stupid right now. Shit wouldn’t be strained ‘tween y’all. He feelin’ like he don’t deserve yo forgiveness. Wouldn’t be nun’ to forgive, if he wouldn’t of never left wit’ me.” 

Annie disagreed. But she wasn’t ‘bout to talk about it right now. 

“Stack -”

He slapped his heavy dick down on all that wet, right between where her nether lips had spread, and both of their eyes fluttered. The next time he spoke, his teeth were clenched.

“I’m bouta fuck yah so good you forgive both a’ us,” his accent wrapped thickly around his words, like feeling all that gush against his dick was makin’ him lose it. “Bouta fuck yah so good, you forget all that hurt you was feelin’. Fuck yah so good, you know he sorry, befo’ he even say it. Fuck yah so good you know I’m sorry.” 

Annie was tryin’ to focus on his words, tryin’ to hold his gaze, but he’d started moving his hips as he spoke, sliding his member up and down between her soft folds, nudging her clit with his big head on every pass. Her eyes fluttered again, head dropping, a low “Ouuu”, slipping past her lips.

Stack watched her for a beat, sliding his dick through the mess she was making, once. Twice. Three times more. 

“We so sorry mama.” 

And then he slid in deep. 

Thunder clapped outside.

Annie’s breath left her body, fluttering eyes flying right back open, soft brown orbs gazing up at him like he’d just taken something from her. He bit back a curse, throat working as her tight heat enveloped him. Smoke was fuckin’ crazy.  

Stack gripped at her pillowy thighs – could already tell he was gone be the one that had to keep ‘em in the air – and let his signature smirk take over his face.

“Now what was that you said earlier? Bout how I anit know what to do wit all this? Wit’ you?” He tilted his head like he was thinking. 

“Stack..” Annie breathed, trying to sound stern through her panting. “Don’t go doing too much no-”

“Let’s test that out, Annie. See if you know me, as well as you know magic?” 

He slid out slow, all the way to the tip, making her feel every inch of what was stretching her wide. Annie’s toes flexed in her boots. They weren’t even undressed. She anit have to be naked for Stack to give her what she needed though. And Annie was ‘bout to get exactly that. 

“Sorry ‘bout this too,” he said, shrugging, eyes squinting playfully. “Cause you gon’ feel this shit.” 

Any quick witted response was derailed as a yelp tore from her throat instead. 

Stack had his pelvis pressed firmly against hers, every inch of that dick buried back inside her heat before she could blink.

Deep. 

He was so deep.

She could feel him in her chest where that annoyance had set. Could feel him under her skin, all over, where that irritation had thrummed. Could feel him everywhere, he was so deep.

Stack slid out, slowly like she was somethin’ precious. And then he slammed right back inside, thick length hitting every wall, every corner, every hidden spot in her pussy. And then he did it again. And again. 

Annie’s mouth formed a round O, hands clutching at her dress, thighs trembling in his hold. Stack wasn’t even giving her time to adjust. And it hurt so good.  

He trailed his eyes over her open mouth, her shaking hands. Snapped his hips forward harder.  

“What’s wrong wit’ chu? This what you wanted right? What you needed? What you was ‘bout to run off on my brother to get?” 

His fingers hadn’t done a damn thing to loosen her up. He had to bully her pussy open over and over again, had to force all that tight, to stretch.  It was like it couldn’t make up its mind – the way the pussy was leaking every where, hugging him like it never wanted him to leave one second, and then fighting him the next, tight hole locking back up every time he slid out to the head. 

“Oh my – ugh Stack!” She said his name like she was mad at him. If that was the case, she was only ‘bout to get madder. 

His narrow hips worked, pure bliss coursing through his body as he felt all that good surround his dick. All that slippery nectar. Them gushy walls. He changed his angle a lil bit, and then his eyes narrowed – jaw jumped, when Annie fought his hold on her thighs. Not to run. But to spread her legs wider.  

He was moving in her easier now, all that liquid she was leaking making it possible for him to slide in and out as he pleased. Annie was adjusting. Annie was feeling – none of the bad from this morning. This week. This month. No, Annie was feeling good and Annie was just getting started. 

He’d stroked inside her again, new angle hitting a spot, deep and hidden and one she could never reach on her own. One that had her slamming her feet down on the table, spreading her thighs wide, licking her full lips. 

“Again! Do that agai- ugh yesssss!” 

Stack leaned forward, hands coming down on the table on either side of her frame, gold making an appearance when he smirked down at her. 

“Do what again? This? Do this again?” 

He pulled out, immediately thrusting his hips forward into that soft spot she was talkin’ ‘bout. What felt like raw electricity shot through Annie’s body at the movement. 

“Yesssss, that’s what the fuck I’m talking ‘bout. That’s what I need.”

Stack obliged. Hips moving like the pussy was running away from him. In and out. Always going deep. Always hitting that spot. He watched her closely, lip tucked between his teeth. Tracked the little gasps that left her mouth every time he drove into her. The way her brows furrowed. The way her eyes fluttered. The way she fought to open them back up every time, meeting his stare head on. 

“Ouuuu Stack – my God!”   

Outside the rain kept comin’. In sheets. In droves. Weighing down the branches of trees. Turning dirt into mud. Creatin’ puddles now – and much worse later. Water was needed. To nourish, to clean, to grow. But the rain? The rain was an inconvenience. And it anit care. Still kept comin’. Pitter pattering against the windows. Falling from the sky. Unrelenting. Unforgiving. The Delta would just have to deal. 

Outside lighting flashed. Outside thunder roared. 

Inside? 

Inside, Annie cursed. And Stack cursed back.

“Fuck! Fuck this pussy! Fuck this pussy just like that! Don’ stop, Stack.” 

He grunted, talked right over the loud squelching noises that filled the room, “I anit stoppin’. I’m in this shit. Who can’t handle you? I’m in this shit, girl!” 

Annie’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, hips raising to meet his like he wasn’t droppin’ the dick fast enough, “Ouuuu, give me that dick Stack. Give it to me! I wonna feel it in my stomach. I feel it in my stomach!” 

Stack swiveled his hips while he was still buried deep, stirring all that wet. All that juice that was dripping down his dick. “I’m fuckin’ you good? Fuckin’ you how I said I would?” 

Her pussy pulsed in agreement with her, “Ouuu yes, yes, yes. You fuckin’ me so good, don’t stop.”

Stack went from holding himself up by his hands, down to his elbows, getting closer, boxing her in. His lips found that spot on her neck, sucking hard. Mouth came up to her ear, talkin’ shit. 

“Ain’ gon stop. Sayin’ sorry remember? Gotta fuck this good wet ass pussy tell she forgive me.” 

Annie moaned, hands coming up to grip at his strong arms. “She say she anit gone never forgive you. You gotta keep fuckin me, keep fuckin me, oh my god, Stack. I feel it!” 

Stack wanted to laugh at her words. Couldn’t. Cause he felt it too. The way that pussy was tightening up, getting impossibly wetter, jumping around his dick like it couldn’t wait to release something it’d been holding back. 

He swiveled his hips. Stroked her from root to tip and back again at an impossible speed. Fuckin’ into her like he had a point to prove. Like he had a relationship to save. Annie scratched at his arms, then rubbed, like she was soothing the sting. 

He clenched his jaw, feeling her pussy jump again, feeling that tight hole get tighter, “Pussy must be magick. You put some magick in this pussy girl? Huh? This fat pussy got some mutha fuckin magick in it?” 

Annie couldn’t speak. All she could do was whimper. Grip his arms tighter. Leak all over him. Brace herself for what she felt building inside of her. For what she felt about to snap loose. 

Stack pulled out, then slammed in, making Annie cry out in ecstasy. He gritted his teeth. Felt his balls start to tighten.

“All ‘dem years ago, sayin’ you anit want both uh’ us,”

He pulled out, then slammed in. 

“This make me think yah was lyin’ Annie.” 

Pulled out, then slammed in. 

“Cause the way this pussy talkin?” 

Pulled out, then slammed in. 

“Pussy sayin’ you shoulda been let me in.” 

He brought his face right above hers, roamed his eyes over all that pretty. All that strength. All that perfect. 

He pulled out again. 

“Pussy sayin’ she ‘ont ever want me leave Annie!” 

Then slammed in. 

Annie shattered. And Stack stilled, mushroom head pressed right into that gushy spot, unmoving, even as the rush of liquid that erupted from her pussy tried to force him out. 

“Oh my – Oh my – Elias – STACKKKK!” 

She wasn’t cumming. She was flooding. Pussy raining down on Stack, not unlike the rain outside. 

Pleasure. That’s what she felt. So consuming it ran from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes. It overwhelmed her. Annie ran for the first time, thighs trying to snap close, hips trying to jerk back, trying to get him to lay off that spot before she passed out. 

Stack anit care. Stayed on her. Stayed pressed into her even as his knees went a little weak at the feel of her walls choking his length. Her wet surrounding him. 

“Stop runnin’ from what you need,” he slid his arm between them, forced one thigh back open. “Jus’ take it. Get all that bad energy up out ya’.” 

Annie didn’t have no choice. She came tell her ears were ringing, tell her breath left her body, tell she didn’t even know what bad energy he was talking ‘bout. 

And Stack watched, head tilting almost in wander, eyes raking over her face like he’d never seen a prettier picture. His dick jerked just lookin’ at her, and his eyes snapped shut, willing himself not to nut. 

Annie was trying to get air back into her lungs, walls squeezing around Stack again – not on purpose, just on instinct, and it was enough to make him lose it.

“Shit,” he cursed, eyes still closed tight like that was the only thing keeping him sane. “You good if I move?” 

She blamed him. For how good he’d just made her feel. Blamed Smoke. For how long it’d been since he’d touched her. Blamed them both for what came out her mouth next, eyes cracking open slowly, voice coming out breathy, taunting.  

“You good if you move? Look tense. Can’t handle a little pussy? The little brother got little stamina?” 

His eyes flew open. Shock and indignation both clouding those dark orbs. He’d just fucked life back into her. They both knew it. And still Annie pushed. Because if he could give it? She wanted more. Honestly, who knew when she’d get loved down like this again? She was bein’ greedy, takin’ as much as she could while it was offered. She deserved to be greedy. 

Stack blinked above her, less focused on his urge to cum now, and more surprised by how much of a brat Annie was being. He’d never pegged her as that. Stack shook his head. Hell, maybe she normally wasn’t, but knowin’ how Smoke was actin’, it’d probably been good and long since she had the attitude fucked outta her. 

He watched her, watch him, and saw that gleam in her eyes. Like she couldn’t wait for his response – like she was hungry for it.

“You got a greedy pussy Annie,”  he pushed himself up, stood upright again between her spread thighs.

 So greedy you really need two niggas takin’ care of you on the regular.

Stack forced that thought out his head. Cause this shit wasn’t ‘bout him. It was ‘bout her and his dumbass brother. 

“You wanted more? Jus’ say that. Ain’ gotta hurt a nigga feelings. You know I’m sensitive, girl.” His tone was light. Too light.

“You want more? Say it.” Their eyes met, his prompting hers to speak, refusing to move until she did. 

She opened her mouth to do just that, to tell him what she wanted and how she wanted it. 

Stack never gave her the chance. Sliding out and proceeding to show her just how long his stamina could really be. 

They weren’t working out Annie’s built up pressure anymore. That had already been done. Now, they were just fucking. Rough, and nasty, and loud. The table was shaking, their voices were cracking, and the storm outside didn’t have shit on what was brewing between them. 

One second he had her by the hips, had the lower half of her body damn near in the air and was pulling that pussy up to him every time he fucked into her. 

“Pussy so fuckin’ good. This what you wanted? You gone take it then. Gone take all this dick tell yo’ ass can’t walk straight!” 

The next, she was flat on the table, moaning filth in his ear while he pressed his weight into her, digging deep in her guts. 

“Ouuuu I love that dick Elias. Love the way you fucking this pussy. You love this pussy? This pussy good?” 

They went back and forth. She matched him stroke for stroke, word for word, pushing when he pulled and pulling when he pushed. 

Strings of cream clung to his dick, pooled at his base. Her pussy was loud, talking like it wanted to join the conversation. He was fucking the love and light back into her. She was making him lose his goddamn mind. 

By the time they were approaching their peaks, they were nose to nose, bodies moving like they had a mind of their own. Annie’s hands gripping at his back, his arms, everywhere she could reach – eyes squeezed tight in bliss. Stack cupped her face, forced his brown orbs to stay open, to stay locked on her, as he panted in time with her breaths. 

The rain kept coming down outside. Fast, and loud, and dangerous. 

“I’m bout to cum Elias! Stack I’m bout to - it feel like so much – Elias!” 

“I feel it girl, I feel it – fuck! Me too, Annie, fuck!” 

If he wasn’t pinning her down, she would have levitated. 

If she was his, he would have shot his seed as deep as he could. Woulda hoped it took. 

They came in unison, the tension in their bodies snapping. Annie cried out loudly, core clamping down, rivers of that essence that made both Moore men crazy, pouring out of her sweet center. Stack cursed, yanking his hips out and up just in time, cumming so hard he would have collapsed if he wasn’t already damn near laid flat on top of her. His eyes shut on their own accord, stars appearing behind his closed lids. 

“Shit Annie!” 

Rain was funny sometimes. It could choose to wreck havoc – cause floods, displace homes, come down long enough and hard enough to drown entire communities if it so pleased. And…it could also choose to storm a little and then stop. Outside, the downpour lightened to a drizzle, seemingly out of nowhere. Inconsistent drops – light, unrushed, harmless. There would be some mess to clean up – the rain never left anything completely in tact – but it seemed the Delta had lucked out this time. The damage wouldn’t be irreparable. 

Inside Annie’s kitchen? 

There were no guarantees of such luck. 

The two caught their breath, gradually coming down from the peak they’d reached. And Elias felt wrong. Hot. Itchy. Like he was too big for his clothes. He frowned a little, not liking the discomfort. Not understandin’ where it was comin’ from. 

He opened his eyes. Damn near lost his breath again when he was faced with Annie’s searching gaze. Neither spoke. Until she did. 

“‘Lias?” 

He swallowed. Didn’t really know what was being asked. Knew and just didn’t know how to answer. How she wanted him to respond. Elias felt like a boy again. Elias felt like he wanted to fall into Annie and get the fuck away from her at the same time. Elias remembered his brother, remembered that he’d done this for him. For them – Smoke and Annie. 

Stack is who responded to her, smirk on his lips, eyes squinting, gold caps shining. 

“Annie.” He tilted his head playfully, made his tone light, kept it light, even when her eyes narrowed. “Surprised you can still talk. I worked all that attitude out huh?” He laughed. “I know I did. Now you and that big head nigga can work y’all shit out – no outside parties needed, girl.” 

“Elias–”

“And you anit gotta thank me, it was my pleasure, trust.” Stack winked. “Now lemme clean you up so I can get back down to this juke and talk to this nigga.” He let his dimple pop, ignored the look in her brown eyes. “Wouldn’t want all this to be for nothin’ right?” 

Annie watched him. For so long he damn near broke out into a sweat. And then she nodded. Slow. Reluctant. But she gave it to him. Let him run. “Right. Wouldn’t want this to be for nothing.” His dimple popped harder, smirk grew wider. Too wide. Forced. Uncomfortable. 

He let his eyes scan her face one more time - quick but thorough.

Nodded to himself. To her. 

“Right.”

♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎ ♡ ♥︎

So, Hi again! Omg y’all - that poor table. Lol if you made it to the end, I hope you enjoyedddd! Not gone lie, this was supposed to end on a much lighter note. And then, it just didn’t lol. I had a lot of fun exploring this and figuring out a circumstance where Annie and Stack would happen though, especially with Smoke on the same earth, anddd this what I came up with. Anyways, don’t know if I’ll be writing anything else. I would like to, cause this was fun, but I’m not gone force it. I just had to get this out my head before I went crazy! Let me know what you think if you feel so inclinedddd 🫶🏾🧡

[lazysoulwriter]

dial drunk, love sober - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: fluff overload, clingy drunk!reader, protective softie!pedro, phone call panic, established relationship, reader is a very dramatic lil mess

Pedro’s phone rings at 1:38 a.m. He’s already half-asleep, sprawled sideways on the couch with the TV on low volume, wrapped in the hoodie you keep stealing from him.

When he sees your name flash on the screen, he picks up immediately.

“Amor? Everything okay?”

He hears your voice before anything else. Loud. Slurred. Sniffling.

“Peeeeeedrooooo…”

His body goes rigid. “Mi amor, are you okay? Where are you? What’s happening?”

You hiccup. “I miss youuuu… I love you and I’m— I’m wearing your flannel and it smells like you and I think I might die about it.”

He’s already grabbing his keys. “Where are you, baby?”

“At Jess’s birthday,” you mumble, sniffling harder now. “But everyone is kissing and drunk and annoying and you’re not here and I’m so in love with you it’s like... offensive.”

Pedro stops cold in the middle of putting on a shoe. “…You’re not hurt?”

“What? No, I’m drunk. Devastated, but, like… emotionally.”

He exhales, almost falls over from the wave of relief that hits him, then starts laughing, because of course. Of course you called him sobbing because you miss him too much. You ridiculous, clingy little angel.

“I’m coming to get you,” he says, grabbing his jacket. “Do not move, stay exactly where you are. And keep your location on.”

“Pedrooo…” your voice breaks through the phone again, dramatic as hell. “I just want to go home. With you. Your chest is my bed now. Your hoodie is my identity.”

He’s laughing again, even as he jogs out the door. “Okay, okay, bebita, I’m on my way.”

—

By the time he gets there, you’re sitting on the curb outside, hugging your knees, his flannel nearly swallowing you whole. You look like a sad little cryptid who wandered out of a fairytale.

“There’s my baby,” he calls softly.

You turn, gasping like it’s the most shocking thing in the world. “Peeeeedroooooo,” you squeal, launching into his arms like a koala. “You came!”

“Of course I did.” He cups the back of your head and kisses your temple. “You sounded like you were being kidnapped by your feelings.”

“I was,” you sniff. “They got me.”

He’s still holding you when you start rambling.

“I was gonna dance but then this guy tried to talk to me and I was like ‘no way, I have a Pedro’ and then everyone was all like ‘where is he’ and I was like ‘don’t worry about it’ but then I got sad because I didn’t have your nose on my neck and your hand on my waist and I wanted to cry. So I did.”

Pedro kisses your forehead. “You’re so dramatic. I’m obsessed with you.”

“You better be,” you pout. “Because I’m, like, in love with your whole essence.”

He opens the car door for you. “Get in, my essence and I are taking you home.”

—

Once you’re wrapped up in bed, water on the nightstand and makeup wiped from your cheeks, you cling to him like gravity. One leg over his hip, arms around his neck, your cheek mushed to his chest.

“You’re so warm,” you mumble. “I missed you even when I was kissing you goodbye earlier.”

Pedro strokes your hair gently. “You don’t have to cry to get me to come hold you, you know?”

“Yeah, but it works,” you whisper, and he laughs into your hair.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m the cutest. And drunk. And yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses your hair. “Forever. Even when you’re clingy and wasted and crying about missing my chest.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

And he means it. So much more than you even realize.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[corroding-time]

…

You’re really making me work… @orignialpuppyprincessboyblog

part one, part two

gentleman top male reader x horny boyfriend. nsfw.

-

After that, it was smooth sailing. Now, you paid a lot more attention to him and his not so subtle hints. It got you thinking, how ignorant did you have to be when he was being so obvious and blatant about it?

So the next time he’d drop hints of what he wants…

He wraps his arms around you, effectively disturbing your work. Rubbing his head against your torso, kneeling on the floor as he looks up at you with mischievous eyes covered up with innocence. You gulped, stopping your work as you looked down at him. “Wow, babe, you look so hot when you’re working. I just want to…” He slides up your shirt, gently biting the skin. He places a hand right between your legs (where your obvious boner was) and coyly slides himself up, placing his head in the crook of your neck. His voice drops to a whisper. “So, what do you say, babe..?” His breath hits your neck, warm and inviting. His hand moves, palming your bulge.

Your hands hover at his sides, uncertain, hesitant. “I-is it… do you want to…” You leave the words unsaid,  hanging in the air for him to decipher. “Yes! I was wondering when you would realize.” He starts to immediately strip himself, working at an inhuman pace. “Thought I would have to say it straight up to you, like last time.” He smirks at your nervous expression as you tell him not to do that- what if you were on a call and somebody heard?

“Hehe, you didn’t let me finish. I thought I would have to, but I don’t need to cause you’ve been catching on a lot quicker.” He grins as he tugs down his pants. You get flustered, telling him to stop so you can move to the bed.

That’s another thing- he wants to do it all the time, everywhere. You can be washing the dishes and he’s behind you practically humping your leg. You’d be reading or gaming and he’s jumping on you. You’d come home from work to be met with a hot, needy kiss. He’s begging the second he sees you. It happens a lot more often now that you understood- there was no way that he would be refused, so he's gotten a lot more bold. And you always ask to confirm if it’s what you think it is and the answer is never no.

When you guys do have sex, you always refuse to release, trying your best to take care of him. But that’s so hard when he’s been very keen to get you off. He’s been trying all sorts of things to get you to climax.

Like one time, it was your day off and his working day. You try to pass time as you wait for him on the couch, but fall asleep. When you woke up…

You jolt as you start to gain consciousness, feeling warm all over, and extremely… sensitive. Something was wet, hot and tight. You let out an involuntary moan, quickly opening your eyes to see your pants down and your boyfriend sucking on it. You immediately put your hand on his head, trying to push him off. “Oh, you’re awake?” He says muffled, mouth full. The sensation of vibrations runs up your body and you shiver in pleasure. You mumble for him to get off and he obliges. You were all flustered asking him what he was doing, he shouldn’t do that, especially without your permission, while you were sleeping, but you get cut off as he wraps his hand around the base. “But I’ve never seen you release…” He pouts.

He starts to move his hand up and down, slowly, grip comfortably tight. You wince from the pleasure, doing nothing to stop him. He takes this as a sign to continue, slightly speeding up. “It’s not fair… you always get to see me cum, but I’ve never got to see you…” You stutter out excuses, how you wanted to please him, how you wanted to maximize the pleasure for him, and he cuts you off again with a slight squeeze.

“Please, just this once..?”

How could you ever refuse that?

He moves to sit next to you. You try your best to muffle your sounds as he continues to stroke you. You’re panting heavily, unconsciously spreading your legs wider, hands fumbling around to grip something. You’d never felt like this before. As you let out shallow breaths, he seems proud of himself, stroking faster and faster.

The worst part of it all was how he was staring at you the whole time- like he wanted the memory burned into his mind, locked away for later use. Every sound and flinch and wince from you encourages him as he pushes you towards your release. You ashamedly felt turned on from it, the way his eyes were on you.

The final straw is when he wraps an arm around your shoulder, snuggling closer to you. “C’mon, babe, can’t you cum for me..?” You let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you release.

Damn. You were so wrapped up in the hand job, you forgot exactly where you were. You dirtied the couch. Next time you’d-

Wait, next time? You groan internally as you see him lick his fingers. He really was rubbing off on you.

[rafeys-angel13]

off day with soft rafe

- request a fic - masterlist -

— ⋆·˚ ༘ * requested! -

rafe could tell immediately when you woke up that you weren’t okay. the way you were quiet and immediately closed your eyes again to try and fall back asleep.

he didn’t say anything though, he pushed the hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

“good morning, princess…” he smiles softly, his thumb caressing your forehead and his hand resting on top of your head.

“mm, hi” you respond, your voice rough from sleep. he smiles and kisses your cheek.

“how you feeling, pretty?” rafe asks you hesitantly, not knowing how you might react.

“like shit…” you respond and he sighs, pulling you into him. “— i just wanna stay in today…” you add, burying your face in his chest. he pats your head and rubs your back.

“that’s okay, we don’t have to do anything…” he reassures you, speaking softly and quietly as to not annoy you.

-

later on in the day, you hadn’t made it out of bed yet— but rafe didn’t mind. he cooked you lunch and made you your favourite drink. then sat with you and watched a movie, his arm never moving from around you.

it was cosy, really cosy. he really didn’t mind when you had days like this, it was a good excuse to coddle you and take care of you. it also gives him a nice break.

-

when it came to night time, he got you out of bed and helped you shower.

he knew your whole shower routine from start to finish so that’s exactly what he did. he even knew to shampoo your hair twice and clip your hair up when you have conditioner in.

“do you want the non-scented soap bar or the strawberry one?” he’d ask softly, holding them out for you to pick between.

he nods and presses a kiss to your wet hair when you pick the non-scented one as the strawberry one was a little too sweet for today.

when you get out of the shower, he immediately puts you in one of his shirts and gets you into bed. he then dries your hair for you while you’re wrapped in a blanket, doing your hair the exact way you do it.

“here get comfy, your blankets there if you wanna wrap it around your shoulders… are your feet cold? i can get you socks if you need…” he’d ramble, trying everything to keep you comfortable.

he finished the night off by telling you that it’s okay to not feel okay. that he’s always there for you if you do feel that way.

“thank you for letting me take care of you, baby…” he murmurs as you shut your eyes. he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he gets comfy to sleep.

-

[peasack]

I love your fics sm i can never find stuff like this ANYWHERE, can i request a Thunderbolts & teen!reader where the reader got sick and is kinda clingy with the team while they’re sick? Please never stop writing your stuff is actually amazing 😽😽😽

Aww, this is adorable!

Thunderbolts x Gn!Teen!Reader

✦ Thunderbolts Sick Day Headcanons ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei Shostakov

Thrives in this Situation. He loves being needed, so clingy!you is his favorite thing ever. He’s like “Yes, I am big strong protector, I will care for you!”

Goes Overboard. Brings you way too many blankets, way too much soup, keeps checking your temperature every ten minutes. He’s like a giant worried bear.

Lets You Cuddle Him. Will sit for hours with you napping on him, even if his arm goes numb. He pretends to grumble but he melts inside.

Overdramatic About Germs. Walks around with hand sanitizer but refuses to leave your side. He’s like “I will gladly perish if I must. For you.”

Tells Long, Weird Stories. He’s convinced talking will keep your spirits up, so he rambles about old Soviet missions while you doze on his chest.

✦ Yelena Belova

Soft but Still Sassy. She’s immediately like “Oh no, you poor little germ, come here, let me squish you.” Pulls you into a hug and won’t let you go.

Loves Your Clinginess. Normally you’re shy, so she absolutely adores clingy!you. She keeps teasing you but never pushes you away.

Will Watch Anything You Want. Even if it’s the worst rom-com ever, she’s sitting there like “This is terrible. I love it. Play the next one.”

Brings You Comfort Food. Shows up with your favorite snacks, even if she had to bribe someone or threaten a store clerk to get them.

Secretly Takes Care Notes. Googles the best remedies but pretends she already knew. She won’t let you see how worried she actually is.

✦ Bucky Barnes

Surprisingly Gentle. Bucky’s a little awkward at first when you start clinging to him, but he quickly relaxes and lets you lean on him.

Quiet Comfort. He doesn’t talk much, just lets you nap on him, strokes your hair, and brings you water when you need it.

Reads to You. Lowkey has a good reading voice. If you ask, he’ll read until you fall asleep on his shoulder.

Keeps His Cool. He doesn’t panic, but he’s very watchful. He stays by your side and makes sure you’re not getting worse.

Grumpy Nurse Vibes. “Stay in bed. Don’t get up. No, I don’t care if you’re ‘fine,’ you’re staying put.” Grumbles but takes good care of you.

✦ John Walker

Goes Full Dad Mode. John gets a little overwhelmed because he wants to do everything right. He’s Googling symptoms like crazy.

Clingy with You. If you’re clingy, he’s immediately like “Okay, I’m not leaving you. I’ve got you. You need me? I’m right here.”

Brings You Soup but Burns It. Tries to cook for you but it’s… questionably edible. He’ll happily order your favorite takeout instead.

Tries to Distract You. Tells you dumb jokes and stories from his army days to keep your mood up.

Overprotective. “No missions. No visitors. You’re grounded until you’re better. And no, I won’t leave your side.” He’s serious.

✦ Ava Starr

Calm but Fierce. Ava’s not loud about it, but she is very serious about you getting better. She’s got her phone out researching the best remedies immediately.

Soft Spot for Clingy!You. She’s used to you being more quiet and independent, so when you cling to her, it hits her right in the heart.

Protective Hovering. She pretends to go do other things but is constantly checking on you from the doorway. She won’t admit how worried she is.

Lets You Nap on Her. You can cling to her like a koala and she won’t complain, even if she’s stuck there for hours.

Gets You Anything You Want. Ice cream? More tissues? A specific brand of cold medicine? She’s already out the door to get it for you.

✦ Bob Reynolds

Worried Sunshine. Bob is panicking internally but trying so hard to stay calm for you. He’s constantly like “You okay? Need anything? Water? Blanket? A puppy?”

The Best Cuddler. He’s immediately on board with clingy!you. He’ll wrap you in his arms like a weighted blanket and stay as long as you want.

Talks to Calm You. His voice is so soothing when he’s talking about the stars, random facts, or funny stories to distract you from feeling miserable.

Will Do Anything. Will absolutely fly across the world to get the weird candy you’re craving while sick. He’s that committed.

Emotional Sponge. If you get frustrated or upset while you’re sick, he’s the softest, most patient person ever. He’ll just hold you and let you vent until you feel better.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope you guys liked it!! Requests are always open<33

[theorist-fox]

Perfect timing

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

18+

CW: filthy smut, PWP, piss, omorashi, soft dom Simon, brief CNC/dubcon. Simon's a bit mean but we love him your honor

Masterlist 🦊

There's an anvil on your chest.

Might as well be, considering Simon's bulk and how little effort he's putting into keeping his weight off you.

You're drenched in sweat but he doesn't seem to mind. The opposite, actually. Like he prefers it that way, with your skin glueing itself to his—inseparable, stuck until you can't tell where you start and he begins.

He's forcing your eyes on him. Or at least, your face. Doesn't really care whether you keep them open or roll them back—he seems more interested in watching you morph for him. How your face changes shape the more he thrusts in. A hand around your jaw, switching sometimes to wrap around your neck until your breath stutters and coughs.

You don't know how many orgasms he wants to take from you. Hell, before he pinned you to this bed, you didn't even know you could have this many orgasms. Instead here you are, with Simon's dick ploughing inside you and snatching your breath away, losing count at your third. You're so wet each movement causes a squelch that only gets louder when you cum—again.

Fourth, or fifth.

It starts to hurt sometimes, but as soon as your eyes twitch in discomfort, Simon changes tactics and it isn't painful anymore. He pulls out, stuffs his fingers inside of you instead and pumps a few times until the line between your brows smooths over. Rubs the pruny pads of his fingers over your clit until you're fluttering around nothing and your grimace turns into awe.

And then he slams back inside again. His hand returns to your jaw and his nose is brushing with yours. Simon leans closer, if even possible, and you can feel his heavy panting in your ear.

"Tired?" He purrs.

"Y-yeah," you croak. "Need a break."

His thrusts come to a slow rhythm, but he doesn't pull out. You can feel yourself flutter around the length of him and your heart pounding madly in your throat—same frequency as his, plastered to your chest. He shifts above you, planting a hand next to your head, his other one cradling your cheek. His face levels with yours, eye to eye.

"A break?" He cocks his head. "Reckon we barely started."

You snort. "You're insane. We're past started. We're past done."

He hums. "Dunno. Are we?"

"I'm pretty fucking knackered."

His lips twitch. "Are you now."

He's infuriating like that. When he takes control of you, your mind and your body, and changes your perception of things. You haven't barely started—you reckon you're pretty fucking over and done, and you'd like to reiterate that. 

But he has that look on him now. Those eyes narrowed into two cheeky slits, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips like he knows he's about to change your mind, if he hasn't already.

You mimic him. A game of stubborn stares between two people who ultimately want the same thing: for this to stop and yet never end at the same time. Feels too good to give up and too much to continue, ecstasy and fatigue clinging together like heavy chains wrapped around your chests and keeping you bound to one another.

It’s what you wanted, what you pleaded with your eyes as soon as you got home. Dark circles around them, etched by the longest of work days, and lashes fluttering as you asked if he could take care of you tonight.

And with a man like Simon Riley, what you ask is what he delivers.

He keeps rolling his hips in a comfortable, slow fashion that is soothing more than intense, like he's scratching the parts of you that you couldn't possibly reach by yourself.

"Did you even cum?" You ask in between breaths, brushing your lips with his.

He grunts. "Nah. Not yet."

Fucking hell. Might be torture at this point—for him, naturally. Bit for you as well, though. 

But to be frank you couldn't give two shits about discomfort and those zaps of overstimulation that make your eyelids twitch and your toes curl. This is anything but torment for you. You've never felt this boneless in your entire life, and honestly, you'd have paid good fucking money to experience this sooner; if only you knew it was a possibility, to have your overworked brains fucked into a soup of nothing coherent.

At this point you don't even need to cum anymore—you've done that plenty. You just need him where he is, doing this magic trick with his hips that has your insides churn and melt like hot syrup at the base of you.

He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your nails dig in, leaving what you’re guessing are going to be awfully deep scratches on his shoulder blades.

Simon falls still.

"F-fancy doing that any time soon?" You stutter.

And he rolls his hips deep, continuously, stretching out the moan that had already left your lips.

"Why the rush?" He asks.

The husk in his voice hints, however, that he might be in a rush as well. Greedy as always. Fill you up or paint you with it. Watch his cum ooze out of you, or witness it roll in droplets from the valley of your breasts down to your heaving belly.

"I need to pee," you breathe. "There's the rush."

Simon is unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is leave your cheek and travel downwards, squeezing your breast in his hand as he passes by. He finds your clit and rolls idle circles that mimic the movement of his hips.

You throw your head back, muscles slack in your neck. 

"Fuck," you choke. Your eyes fall closed. The pressure builds and you can't quite tell if it's going to feel incredibly good or incredibly embarrassing. Or both.

Your voice rises in pitch. "Don't—"

He interjects. "Mhmh?"

You feel his hum vibrate with every inch of smugness down to your core. Your chest reverberates with it, and the enjoyment radiating from him seeps into you, effortless as osmosis.

"Why." He pulls back. 

"The." And thrusts in. 

"Rush?"

Your groan is feral. 

It scratches at your throat, dry and tasting of iron. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard and contracted to stave off release.

"Fucking hell, Sim—"

"Come on, pet." He thunders above you.

"This isn't gonna end well—"

He chuckles and never falters with his fingers or his cock. Steady and precise, hitting right where you love it and touching exactly where you're tight. 

"Nah it ain't," he agrees—to an extent. "It's gonna end fucking perfect."

Your belly burns, coils, rattles—you can feel your legs shake around the thickness of his waist and your eyes tear up.

You whine. "Simon—"

"I know baby, I know." He whispers, voice low yet still thick like liquor. "Feels good, aye? Can feel it too."

You can feel it. Fucking hell you can.

His voice is soft, drawing out the vowels. "S’alrigh’. Breathe through it.”

You can feel it coming right up and it's gonna be a fucking disaster. It's in the sudden wetness rushing at the base of your belly, in the increasingly louder squelches echoing in the bedroom the more he thrusts in. 

"Cum for me, love," he purrs. You recognize the feeble stutter in his voice that hints at his own release, but he's stubborn like that and he'd rather have the most unsatisfying orgasm in the world than lose the battle he's started.

Competitive bastard even where there's no competition at hand.

"I can't—I'll—"

He predicts you. Switches his fingers so that his thumb is now rolling over your clit and the heel of his hand can press above your pubic bone.

"Make a fuckin' mess, then," he groans. "Let go, pet. Let go."

You see stars there. A shaky mess of colours shifting into unrecognizable shapes behind your eyelids, wired shut in your futile attempt to regain control of your body. You don't want it to happen and yet you do, you don't want to let go and yet you're just about to.

You try it all. Squirm away, but it only makes him drill in harder. Push at his chest, but he grabs your hands and anchors them above your head in a white-knuckled grip. 

Plead, if you like, and he'll drink your prayers with a kiss.

But it's useless. You surrendered your control to him: it's what you wanted, to be used until worn out, to feel good beyond repair, and without putting any effort into it.

He's delivering what you asked.

You whine again. "Please—oh fuck—I'll—"

"Fuckin' do it." He curses. 

His thrusts turn erratic, but the sudden switch in pace doesn't deter your orgasm from approaching. If you hadn't been so focused on tightening your abdomen, you would've noticed you were on the verge of cumming already.

"Cum all over me."

It's like a switch. Your body turns jello. You can feel your throat closing in as your mouth opens wide in a scream that doesn't quite make it through.

Simon's voice breaks in a groan that sounds like it’s coming out of the most delighted of grins.

Your orgasm is strong and gut wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame, as a warm stream rushes out of you unbidden. It splashes down your ass and your thighs, wets Simon's legs and his pelvis. He makes it even messier by rapidly stroking his fingers over your clit, prolonging both ecstasy and embarrassment.

Wet sounds are dotted by his grunts growing louder and huskier, rough to the touch if you could brush your fingers over them.

"Fuck—" He groans. "Fuckin' perfect. That's my girl—My fuckin' girl."

He cums as well, but it's lost in the mess happening between your bodies, and your head is not quite there yet to witness it happening. You can only feel it, barely, as he twitches inside you and the grip on your wrists tightens a fraction—but the rest is as lost as you are.

Simon unceremoniously collapses above you as your breaths heave and pitch upwards, until your voice doesn't even sound like yours anymore.

His kisses, left unhurried and open on your collarbones, are what brings you back. You blink yourself back inside your body, back beneath his own—heavy and thick and sweaty. The air is pungent and smells of sex, with his breath tickling your neck and the droplets perspiring from your skin.

And even though you're feeling on cloud nine, your mind betrays the laxity of your body. You can feel embarrassment run hot through you, scorching you worse than any fire could.

"I fucking hate you," you breathe to the ceiling.

Simon chuckles against your chest. "Aye. Get in line."

"Not the time."

"Perfect time."

You frown. It's hard to breathe with him crushing your chest and you almost want to push him away, but that would mean to witness the mess you made on the bedsheets, so you decide that choking on air is a better fate.

You huff. You can feel your skin burn hot, so you use your hand to cover your face as much as you can, rubbing nervously at your cheek. 

"I didn't mean to do that."

"Glad you did," he huffs. "Cross my heart. Hottest thing y’ve ever done, pet.”

You grimace. "Eh, I don't think so."

He kisses your chest. Rises upwards until his lips meet the space beneath your lobe, and there he leaves a plain kiss that clicks softly in your ear. 

"I do." He whispers. You can feel his mouth twitch in a smile. "Bloody perfect when you relax. Should've taken a picture right there. Keep it in my wallet."

Blood warms up your chest and coils around your neck, touching your cheeks. Honest to God, this man is charming once a year and that single event always unfolds with the worst possible timing.

"Not the time to be a sap." You bite on your cheek to prevent a smile from blooming. "I just wet the fucking bed."

He snorts. "Not only the bed."

"Simon!" 

He sinks his teeth in your neck softly, as his whole body shakes with laughter. He's laughing at his own joke, and suddenly his single, charming moment of the year is over just as quickly as it began. Shame for you, that his laugh is also a rare event, and it’s as infectious as they come.

You laugh too.

"Not—" you playfully slap his shoulder. "The fucking time!"

But he's relentless, and his lips journey from your neck to your cheek. He lifts himself just enough to make you breathe, and just enough to kiss your lips.

He sighs in your mouth when you reciprocate. "Perfect time."

[wonderjanga2]

Neglected The Mask!reader x platonic Yan!Batfam

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3

I’d also like to say this Reader is Gender Neutral or at least you can pick your gender. Most of the pronouns are “you” and when they are referred to by other people, its “they” so… Yeah! Have fun reading and tell me if there are any spelling mistakes or things that don’t make sense.

Chapter Two

Waking up the next day, you felt like garbage. Garbagé if you will. You were face down in bed, faced pressed against your pillow. You closed your mouth to stop any drool from leaking and shifted around until you were on your back.

How did you get back to your room?

Your body felt achy, like you’d run a marathon you were soulfully unprepared for. Not only that but your eyes felt achy from staring at a large, torn piece of paper plastered to your ceiling. How in the world did that get there? It was of your dad. Someone took a sharpie and scribbled some rather crude drawings over him, forcing Bruce Wayne to looked like a big-chested pirate.

Who left that here?

You should probably take it down. If Bruce of Alfred ever came into your room that’d be awkward to explain.

Getting up was a task in itself. You were so tired, your eye bags probably had eye bags. You kicked off your sheets and trudged to the bathroom. When you looked in the mirror, you did indeed look like you pulled three all-nighters in a row. You did the usual brushing teeth, doing hair, just all around making yourself look presentable. As for clothes though…

You walked to the closet and opened it. You blinked and a bunch of money sprung out of it and piled all over the floor and over your legs. It had probably been hastily shoved in judging by how much burst when the closet door was opened.

You stood in silence for a few seconds before carefully grabbing the first shirt and pants you laid your eyes on and hurling them onto your bed before stepping out of the pile. Your shoe rack was covered in money and you didn’t want to make the venture to find it. You probably had a pair lying around though.

You proceeded to spend about five minutes shoving all the money back in.

All of the bills were Benjamin’s too!

Getting dressed, you looked at your rather… distasteful outfit (distasteful for a school like Gotham Prep anyways) and sighed. Blue pajama pants patterned with rubber ducks and a wife beater. Before you could work up the courage to open the closet again to find better clothes and have to shove the money back in, you grabbed the jacket draped over the back of your chair, pulled on some socks (you went and grabbed the duck-patterned ones too, even if they weren’t rubber ducks. Might as well be consistent) and slipped on the only shoes available that weren’t in the closet. Pink, fuzzy slippers.

While debating your life choices as you head to your door, you heard some scratching and whines from the other side of your door.

Ace!

You opened the door and swiftly picked up the German Shepard. It was a little comical that a dog that size was wagging its tail and hopping around slightly for “uppies” but whatever. Ace is your dog. Your baby. Heck, you literally built up muscle so you could keep carrying the dog. He’s your pride and joy.

You walked with him to the kitchen as he licked your cheek. He was barking every now and then and you nodded along. So far, you were pretty sure he was telling you about a squirrel he chased around the barn. “That’s great buddy.” You said as you put him down conveniently as Alfred was filling his, Titus’, and Alfred the Cat’s bowls. Titus, while being Damian’s dog, is also your dog (in spirit). You gave the Great Dane some pats too as you headed to the coffee machine. You made the pot, and after some careful consideration, took the entire thing with you, because like you said earlier, you’re tired.

You said bye to Ace, Alfred and Titus as you headed to the door. You picked your backpack out of the pile everyone threw their bags in near the door, slung it over your shoulder and were off.

School was a long walk and two buses. Sometimes, you considered taking the limo with the rest of the family, but then you’re reminded of how out of place you feel in their presence.

Like you don’t belong.

Like how you’re not supposed to be there despite having been there since a little after Dick first came.

But anyways, here you were at school! If you were ignored at home, it was a little better here! You had friends, were the student council’s treasurer, and all the other titles you held and so on.

You were in the walking period to second block that Tim suddenly jumped out of nowhere, wagging his finger in your face.

“[Name]!”

“Uh— yes?” You were extremely confused. You couldn’t think of a single time in the multiple years that you and Tim had gone to school together that he’d ever approached you, let alone looked your way, while at school. (You figured it was because he didn’t want to be seen with his older sibling at school. He was a Junior, you’re a Senior.)

“Where’s the coffee.” He paused for a moment. “Also, what are you wearing?” He looked you up and down. You supposed that was fair. Gotham Prep had a dress code, and you clearly weren’t adhering to it. You’d already taken the warning from Mrs Sharpay, the front desk lady. You were lucky it was only a warning too and that the lost and found had been recently emptied lest you wear someone’s dirty clothes. (She gave you a wink at that and slid you a Hershey Kiss as you went on your way.) You’d probably be showing the little pink slip she gave you to all the teachers, hall monitors, and janitors in the building so they wouldn’t write you up again.

“It’s trendy right now.” Was the only thing you could pull out of your behind.

“Do you actually believe tha— never mind. Coffee.” He made grabby hands for the pot in your hand. It was about a quarter full. You’d really overestimated how much coffee you could drink in one morning.

You hesitantly handed it to him, scared he might bite your arm off with the way his eyes looked downright feral. “It’s cold bu—” You were cut off by Tim, throwing his head back and chugging the entire thing. “Oh okay.”

You both stood in silence for a bit as Tim wiped his mouth and handed the pot back to you. He made grabby hands again. “Fifty bucks.”

“What?”

“Fifty bucks. I forgot my wallet at home because I was super tired and I want to get several cups, purely filled with espresso shots.” He said, stone-cold serious.

“Isn’t that extremely unhealthy for yo—” You were cut off again by your little brother.

“Fifty. Bucks.” He emphasized each word, keeping that serious expression.

You stared for about a minute before you sighed and walked to a trashcan, not to the throw the pot away but to simply put it down on top of it for a moment. You got out your wallet and fished out two twenties and a ten, leaving you with a sad little five, and handed it to him. “At least get a croissant with those cups of expresso shots. Maybe it’ll soak up all the expresso-ness and not give you a hard attack.” You spoke shoving your wallet back into your jacket pocket, feeling the folded note from Mrs Sharpay as your hand brushed against it. You picked the coffee pot back up.

“You seriously underestimate the capability of my heart.” Tim said, eyes not leaving the bills he counted before walking off. You watched him go, sending a silent prayer to whatever deity can hear you so they can make it so that Tim doesn’t end up as a news story.

You continued walking to second block.

Wow, that was like the sixth conversation you’ve had with Tim in the nearly five years of you both knowing each other.

It was during third block that you heard about that new rogue. It was science class and the teacher was playing a movie— Jurassic Park actually. A classic, honestly. You and your lab partner, Samantha, or Sammy as she let you and her other friends call her, were sharing a piece of paper riddled with tic-tac-toe columns. She’d used the same strategy three times in a row and you’d also lost to her three times in a row. As for the reasons of your embarrassing losses? The girls behind you were whispering a little too loud about said new rogue so you were distracted.

They talked of a green-faced freak with cartoon powers, dressed in a polka-dotted suit. Now if that doesn’t just sound ridiculous, you don’t know what is.

…then again, you were pretty sure you had a dream of being that rogue…

Eh. It was probably just a coincidence.

Then, they started talking about how the rogue set the Joker of all people on fire.

Huh. That was similar to your dream too.

Then about how they robbed a bank immediately after.

…okay, you remembered dreaming about that too. Was that where the money in your closet came from?

Nah, there’s no way. Duke or Steph or maybe even Damian probably just withdrew way too much money and thought your room was a storage room, and the closet, a storage closet. Thats it! Probably. Hopefully. Maybe. It’s not like that hadn’t happened before. One time, (this was after he’d nearly beaten you to death) Jason stumbled in super bloody and put a bunch on guns in your closet before leaving. That encounter had you hiding under your blankets like it was boogieman instead of him. You don’t even think he noticed you. (He’d later came by when you weren’t home and took all of them back except a pistol wedged at the back of your shoe rack weeks later. You still have that thing. It’s at the bottom of your bedside drawer, buried under miscellaneous items such as chapsticks and pens. It’s for just in case the man loses his mind again and tries to kill you once more. You won’t have a repeat of that night. No siree.)

He probably had a concussion. Either that or maybe he was delirious from blood loss.

But the point is! Whoever put the money there thought it was probably storage. Hopefully.

Though, as their conversation went on, and Sammy scored more wins, you heard about how the rogue ripped off a piece of a billboard with your father’s face on it. How they would spin around like Taz from Looney Tunes. How they gave several police officers wedgies. Overall, how they were an all around a chaotic, kinda horrifying individual.

And you remembered doing all of that.

The billboard thing was also likely the picture of Bruce stuck to your ceiling.

As soon as you got home you needed to burn that. No way José were you having a connection to the newest rogue in Gotham.

That is, if these girls weren’t (somehow) messing with you. (There’s like no way you accidentally sleepwalked to one of their houses and they FaceTimed it to one of their friends and now they’re just messing with you, right?) You quickly tossed Sammy the packet of peanut m&ms she won form all the rounds of tic-tac-toe and pulled out your phone to look up what they were talking about. It didn’t turn on. In fact…

You pulled off your phone case and screen protector. Some water droplets dribbled down onto the desk. It was still wet from last night.

You stared at it.

Oh right, you fell— or were pulled into the water because of a wave. You don’t ever remember charging it during the… dream, let’s just call it that for now, either. So, it was either dead from battery loss or fried from the radioactive Gotham water.

Darn it.

You shoved it back into your pocket and looked to Sam who’d just finished her m&ms. “Sammy, can I borrow your phone?”

“Why?” She asked suspiciously. Oh right, that thing was her baby.

“Cause I need to look something up and I think the school computers have the Gotham Gazette blocked.”

She squinted at you before putting her hand out. You slapped another little bag of peanut m&ms into her hand before she handed you her phone. You typed into the search bar, clicked the first link, waiting for the crappy signal to do its thing and load the page, and started reading.

That science class drilled into your head that last night was in fact not a dream at all.

The sun was starting to set as you made your usual speedy trek home. The earliest you got out of school was five. This is because of all the clubs you’d joined so you wouldn’t have to go home so early like said previously. The latest you could get out is six. The reason you couldn’t go any further was because the bus lines shut off at seven. You didn’t want to walk all the way home. You’d rather bus a chunk of the way and run the rest.

That’s how by 6:37. You get out of school by three by the way. So you’d shaved off three hours of time in family vicinity.

Now to trudge to your room to avoid the rest of them.

As you entered, you watched Ace pad over. You picked him up again, your head pressed into his chest fur as he licked your hair. You walked to your room, still carrying him.

“Hey, Dick.” Someone said as you passed by them.

Both you and Ace let out a confused noise but kept walking. You deposited Ace on your bed and threw your bag near your bed. You sat down, feeling the mattress give under your weight before you did a double-take at something you say on your nightstand.

It was a mask. Wooden, said wood was greenish in color. Where did this thing come from? Your hardest to remember when you’d gotten it, but nothing.

Unless…

That night in the water… the blob. That had been a mask. It’d stuck to your face and turned you into that rogue.

This can’t be that mask, right?

Right?

You’d picked it up and slowly brought it to your face. You sat there for a few moments until Ace let out a confused whine. You eventually let it rest in your lap again.

“Maybe it only works at night.” You murmured staring at the mask. It didn’t have that glowing you remembered from the night before. Neither purple nor green.

Nah. There’s no way. It was probably just a one time fluke and all the magic in the mask is drained now. Yup. Totally. You open the window near your bed and threw it out like a frisbee, making sure to grab Ace’s collar before he would lunge at it. With that settled, you turned around to open your book bag so you can finish your homewor—

Thunk

Something hit you in the back of the head. “Ow!” You exclaimed as you turned around. It was the mask again. It was laying innocently on your bed, its little wooden smile mocking you.

You repeated your throwing it out of the window three separate times, only for to smack you in the head three more times until you gave up and just placed it back on your bedside table.

You swear its grin got more mocking with each smack to the head. Ace just looked at you with as much confusion as a dog could muster.

You were later laying in bed when you decided to put the mask on for a second time. You’d been staring at the ceiling, at the place the picture of your father used to be. You were desperately trying to ignore the—

Put it on.

Put it on.

Put it on.

—being whispered into your ear. The ear that was closest to the mask. You wouldn’t. Why? Well because everyone thinks you’re a rogue, of course! And sure, while everything was so freeing and colorful and fun— you didn’t think you’d felt so much of that in one night— You also lit the Joker on fire, and while that itself isn’t bad, you really don’t wanna do that to someone else. What if you did that to a mother, a husband, a child?

“But— but it was just so… so freeing,” the voice whispered. “Can you even remember the last time you felt like that, [Nickname]?” It hissed as your eyes slid to it, drawn to it. “Come on. It’ll be just us! You and Masky, having endless fun and mischief.”

Your hand moved. You couldn’t stop it. You knew this was a bad idea. A horrible one even. But just the thought of feeling like that again…

Put it on.

Put it on.

Put it on!

The voice sounded like it was chanting at this point. You picked it up and held it above your face, you could already feel your skin, pulling itself forward to the mask. It was shimmering once more. It was almost hypnotizing.

When it stuck to your face again, you clawed and struggled just like you did last night and soon you were spinning and spinning and spinning.

Bruce Wayne - The Batman POV

Bruce landed on the next rooftop, taking cover behind a ventilation unit to look down below in the streets. This was the street. This was the street that the Riddler had planted bombs in. Yet, instead of Bruce being the first to engage with the man, it was instead the green-faced rogue from the night before.

The one he and his family had spent the entire night chasing after.

He’d gotten Oracle to stream the conversation to him using a camera they were close to.

“Well, this is new.” Nygma mused, rubbing his chin. “Are you the one who decided to test tempt fate, because I hate to say it, you don’t look like an intellectual.” He started leaning on his cane as he spoken his usual condescending tone.

Bruce took his time to examine the new rogue. They were wearing something different this time. A royal blue three piece with orange wavy lines for the pattern. The tie was orange. They were wearing a fedora this time too. It had a peacock feather attached.

The new rogue gasped at this. “I’ll have you know I am quite these esteemed scholar with over 800 years of experience, bub!” The green-faced flicked their wrist, and a cane slid out of their sleeve. Black with their head at the top of it their cane. They leaned on it in a similar way to the Riddler. Bruce blinked and they had glasses which they pushed up dramatically. “Try me!”

The Riddler rattled off a riddle—

Try saying that five times—

Which had the new rogue freeze. Their cane then suddenly broke, and they face planted before shooting back up. “Okay, I’ll admit, you lost me. Now where are those bombs?” They asked looking around, pulling large binoculars out to look around the buildings. Bruce was sure he was hidden enough.

“I suppose you’ll just have to find out.” The Riddler said smugly as he press the button on one of his watches. Soon after that, a timer, started to run on one of his other watches. Oracle reported that it was counting down from five minutes. The Riddler’s words seemed to make the new rogue sigh and toss their comically large binoculars to the side. They almost landed on Nygma, and would’ve if he hadn’t stepped out of the way.

“Indeed! Looks like this is a job that needs to be done manually!” The new rogue exclaimed as they started spinning and spinning until they were straight out of a cartoon spinning around bursting through building doors, and from what Oracle reports, spinning through each and every single individual room.

And if a room had a bomb in it? It grabbed it.

In every room it entered, windows shattered, furniture was thrown about and floors were ripped through. In fact, when it first started spinning in the street, it tore through the concrete with the road. It went through every single building in that street until it came back with five bombs, all deposited in front of the Riddler.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking. They can’t possibly eat it, right?” The green-faced rogue said with a grin as they tied a bib around their neck and pulled some utensils from somewhere. Contrary to its words, Bruce, the Riddler, Oracle, and everyone who watched this recording later for review, watched as it scarfed down each of the bombs, unhinging it’s a jaw to shove each of them in. When it finished with the last one, Edward’s timer ran out and they all seemed to explode. Its stomach inflated for a moment before deflating as the rogue let out a large burp.

“Smokey.” It drew the word out as it then started laughing and spun off to somewhere else.

Just as it left, both Robin and Red Robin arrived. Bruce directed Tim to arresting the Riddler while Damian was ordered to come along with him so they could chase after the creature. Imp maybe? Its powers sort of aligned with an imp. Less theorizing more catching up to it.

When Bruce got to the scene…

…Of course it was forcing an entire street of people to tap dance with it… Because why not?

And when he tried to apprehend it? Well, he got his cape wrapped around him and tied into a little bow before being pushed over to fall on ground. Robin got the same treatment, but instead of a light push, he got more of a shove.

And of course Jason was the one who found them like that.

The next morning, you were crabby to say the least. You were also watching cartoons too before you had to leave for school. It was around five in the morning right now, and as for why you were up and dressed (in your actual uniform this time. Were those five minutes shoving the money back into the closet really worth it?) so early? Well, after you came back from being a rogue, you collapsed in bed at around two in the morning. From there, you got about an hour of sleep. Then, at like 3:30, you woke up and stared at your ceiling for another hour and a half before finally getting ready.

Ace was across your lap, getting dog fur on your clothes, but you honestly couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were petting him until someone slid onto the couch next to you.

Are you joking right now? Damian? Are you fu— freaking serious?

The kid went all but a couple seconds before making his demand. “Put on Animal Planet.” He spoke in his usual stoic tone. This really should not have been so irritating (you were honestly surprised you even got irritated at him in the first place) but… then again it is five in the morning.

“Damian, I don’t want to.” You tried your best to sound polite. Can’t have your younger brother pull another katana out of his behind and try to slice your throat open again, now can you?

“I said put on animal planet.” He was glaring now.

“Damian.” Your tone almost sounded saccharine as you tried to stay cordial. “For fuck’s sake, I said no.” It was really hard to say that while still forcing a polite smile.

Also, wait. Shit. You just cursed at him.

You silently prayed he wouldn’t come at you with a katana fresh out of the shower later today. Surprisingly though, he actually went quiet.

Eventually, the silence got to you. To keep yourself from squirming like an idiot, you instead turned to him and spoke, “I’m sorry, Damian. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that. I’m just tired, okay? How about we watch animal planet after this episode?”

He continued staying quiet for the rest of your time at the couch. Even after you switched it to Animal Planet.

Damian Wayne - Robin POV

A thought blared through the boy’s mind, “[Name] actually grew a backbone!”

Bonus Lore About the Story:

1.) Mrs Sharpay/the desk lady gave you that Hershey Kiss because she thinks you’re a cutie. Whether you’re a boy or girl or neither, she thinks you’re a cutie. 2.) The conversation between Duke, Steph, and Tim after he demanded the buckeroones, resulted in Steph calling him a lecherous little monster. 3.) Jason is pretty sure that either you or Alfred has the gun he forgot. He came back to your room for a third time to see if he could find it and it was still missing. He hopes that it’s you who has it because he himself doesn’t ever want a repeat of that night either. 4.) The person who thought you were Dick was an extremely tired Bruce. He has multiple memories of Dick carrying Ace like that when the dog was smaller so he thought it was Dick. You also take a bit to recognize his voice due to the fact you’ve held maybe two steady conversations with him.

Taglist: @yourtypicalhuman09 @cupid73 @yhin-gg @galaxypurplerose @xxgrimripp3rxx @hai-there-how-are-you @suckmyballzfr @yarn-mony @patatasolitaria

[xoey101]

☾𖤓 @dawnbreakerbrokeme asked: “Hiyyaaaa Zoey 👋! I saw that your request was open, so I'm taking a leap of faith and requesting something that I've been think about for a while. I'm a zayne girlie so...what if he caught y/n grinding against his pillow late at night after he gets home? That's my request..you don't have to do this if you don't want to, I'm just curious and always ovulating for zayne.....”

hi lovely!! this is my first ask omgomgomg hope i can give you what you’re craving xx

zayne’s just come in from a long day at work. he’s exhausted, slipping off his tie and shoes by the front door, not even taking the time to put them away neatly like usual. 

he makes a beeline for his bedroom, but stops dead in his tracks after hearing the most peculiar noises echoing from that direction.

at first, it doesn’t even dawn on him that you’re masturbating—he’d hear your moans and think you were hurt.

so, heart pounding out of his chest, he races for the door, turning the knob with deathly anticipation.

and there you are. you definitely aren’t hurt, to say the least.

you’re all tangled up in the sheets with his pillow in between your legs. and you’re wearing nothing but your panties and his t-shirt.

“zayne—“ you stop moving your hips, and your heart almost falls through the floor. 

he’s incredibly relieved that you’re okay, but his brain practically short-circuits at the sight of you grinding against his pillow in his bed, wearing his shirt.

“insatiable as ever,” he mumbles from the doorway, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. 

he steps closer, tiredness immediately dissipating.

“my love, there’s no need to do this,” he gestures to his pillow, “when you have me at your disposal.” he chuckles gently.

“i know, i’m sorry i just, i needed you so bad and nothing else worked….” you trail off, realizing you’re coming across as desperate.

zayne shushes you softly, leaning over to press a wet, heated kiss against your lips. “i’m here now, that’s all that matters isn’t it?”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

he fucks you realllll good after walking in on you like that; he knows that the fact you were using his pillow for relief means you’re truly pent-up, and he plans on taking care of that.

he’s got you in a mating press, thighs slug over his shoulders lazily as he snaps his hips into you without rest. 

sweat rolling off his forehead from the sheer work he’s putting in to fucking you right, he’s still thinking about walking in on you.

“can’t believe—“he grunts. “my love was doing something so awful while i was out saving lives—“ 

you mewl, hardly able to focus on his words because of how deep he is. “m’sorry zayne, i’ll make it up to you,” you scream, gripping on to him for dear life.

he speeds up his pace, fingers grabbing greedily at your hips to pull himself even deeper into you, engulfed by your wetness and warmth.

you pant shallowly, trying not to give away the fact that you’re close to your orgasm.

and yet, as attentive as ever, zayne reaches down to finger your clit. “don’t hold back,” he moans out. “take what you need from me.”

and that sends you right over the edge. you’re cumming so hard that it quite literally takes your breath away, and all you can do is shake around zayne as he fucks into you, chasing his own orgasm. 

completely spent, zayne manages to move your limp body over before plopping face first beside you into the bed.

the two of you are a sticky, sweaty mess, almost enmeshed with his crisp white bedding.

zayne tilts his head over to you, feeling a bit playful.

“maybe…. you can continue to take advantage of my pillow when i’m gone.”

[killinkiwi]

My Little Sodapop

Summary: After a depressive spell after a heart shattering break up, you find yourself distracting yourself from the voice in your head. Perhaps you can fixate on a member of a new boy band that debuted literally in front of you, but is it what it seems?

Content Warning: Cheating, Depressive Thoughts, Feeling Horny Af, Misuse of a Lightstick, Masturbation, Low-grade Stalking

Be gentle with me - I know I like it rough but it has been a long time since I've written something and I am a little vulnerable, okay 🥺

I am very rusty and didn't really proofread but here we go! I was inspired to clack away once again my some really talented people but also because there isn't enough Abs, so please enjoy.

Also, I was inspired to clack back onto the keyboard by @kinsuim who has been posting non-stop masterpieces and if you haven't already, please go check out their work. Phenomenal, chef's kiss.

-

Three years, you had given him, three full years of your fucking life and it would end this way. You had given him your heart and he shattered your soul.

Daniel, your now ex-boyfriend, pleaded at first for you to understand. "It's not what it looks like" and "Please, it didn't mean anything" poured from his mouth, clichés that fell on deaf ears. However, when you couldn't stop crying, when you just couldn't understand his side of the story, those words quickly became truly toxic.

"It's your fault, you're never here" because you work to support him and yourself so you can live somewhat comfortably.

"You say you're always tired, you never have time to satisfy me" because you are always working and struggle to maintain a social life.

"You've let yourself go, it's hard to be attracted to you sometimes" because you would come home exhausted, but still have to clean and cook as well as take care of chores he couldn't seem to find time to do - how could you have time to pamper and relax?

"Maybe if you weren't a fucking prude and put out more, I wouldn't have to go elsewhere..." Truthbetold, you couldn't find a suitable response to this one. Yes, you were chronically exhausted all the time from constantly working overtime. Yes, your stress levels felt through the roof 24/7. But generally - you just weren't in the mood to be intimate with him.

Sex with him was average at best - minimal foreplay, switching between two to three positions, and just waiting for it (for him) to finish so you could shower and sleep. You loved him with your entire, but sex with him wasn't the highlight of the relationship. His love for you, his adventurous soul, his caring heart was what made you love him beyond the realm.

But that seemed all for not now.

Not when you caught him fucking his coworker on your bed, in your room, in your apartment.

And in front of your fucking cat.

-

The good news was your name was on the entirety of the apartment so Daniel had no say when you kicked his ass out. Of course he fought back, stated he had paid a minor part of the rent, but the landlord (bless her soul) was quick to state he wasn't even on the lease and therefore had no right to stay. After half-an-hour of fighting and a threat to call authorities, Daniel proceeded to walk off the property with several boxes of haphazardly packed shit.

And you were left cold, in an apartment you once considered warm with love. Now it just felt empty, dull, lifeless - or perhaps that was just a reflection of yourself.

You refused to slump on the floor and sob, like the women in dramas do. Instead, you took a different approach that they do which is walk to the nearest convenience store and purchase several bottles of soju, get drunk off your ass, dismantle the entirety of the apartment to rid anything that reminded you of Daniel, then pass out on the couch because the bed was "tainted with disgusting betrayal" you muttered.

You refused to cry at first, trying to feign strong and stay angry while you poured another shot of soju. But the more you drank, the more the unwanted emotions crawled to the surface. You began hearing a rather grim track play in your mind, repeating, like a broken record over and over.

Sobs racked your body for several moments before you passed out from mental and emotional exhaustion.

"You're the problem, Y/N, you'll never be good enough."

-

You felt like a zombie for weeks after the break up, that same voice just scratching at the back of your mind constantly with the same grim message. At first you tried to ignore it, but it felt like that made it louder. You saw a therapist and while it helped to discuss your emotions and trauma, it didn't stop the voice from preying upon you in the night. You tried so many methods - went for walks, took supplements, tried working out, hell you redecorated the apartment and even bought a new bed!

Nothing was working. The pain and misery only grew, burning like a roaring fire. You began slowly accepting the voice, when...

Golden.

HUNTR/X released Golden and it was beautiful. It was the first time you cried in an accepting manner, almost relieving in a way. Something about the way the lyrics soothed your soul, made you feel warm, made that voice quiet for awhile. It was a breathe of fresh air.

It quickly became your most replayed song.

The voice that played in your head was muted, but the volume would crank up again when you would see loving couples walking around the city. It would become loud when you watched a romantic drama and felt your heart twinge with heartache again. It was hard to not be reminded that you weren't enough for Daniel...

It was this very thought you were pushing out of your head right now as you walked through the busy plaza, seeing cute couples holding hands and wearing matching outfits.

Golden played through your earbuds but lately, as you replayed it more and more, it lost its potency. The song was still beautiful and you had really wanted to see it live, but the night of it was canceled because the lead singer Rumi had laryngitis and was unable to perform. It still helped, but the voice in the back of your head was persistent and reminded you of your shame.

"You know we're gonna be, gonna be golden..." you muttered to yourself, trying to mask the voice once again. Today it was being especially persistent, loud enough that you decided going for a walk downtown was a better option than staying at home sulking. You thought that the sun and fresh air could do you some good, but that was before you saw the cutest couples just marching around together.

"You don't deserve that love, it's not meant for someone like you," that voice whispered once more, clearly cutting through the song that blasted into your ears.

"Fuck you," you couldn't help but mutter back. Frustration clawed at your soul, making you rip out your earbuds and stop in the middle of the sidewalk - inconveniencing the couple behind you and clearly upsetting the girlfriend.

"Good," that voice drawled, "Why should you be the only one to feel inconvenienced?"

Ignoring it once again, you quickly apologized with a slight bow before scampering to the side. Now out of the way, you surveyed the bustling area around you. It was abnormally busy for a random Thursday. Adults and teenagers alike were running about, peeking into stores, gossiping while sipping on coffees, buying snacks from the street vendors.

Which is where one vendor caught your eye - a bright pink pop-up with a lion head on top. It seemed rather busy, customers coming and going with hands full of what looked like canned drinks and flyers.

Perhaps it was the curiosity of it's popularity that drew you over, but you found yourself drawn to the little pop-up and waited in line. Under the lion head the title SAJA BOYS was scrawled.

"Who are the Saja Boys?" A gentleman behind you muttered, mirroring your thoughts as well.

You finally got to the front where you met a rather exhausted looking individual, their eyes glazed with a lifeless hue.

"Thank you for joining us here at the plaza to see the debut of the newest boy band, Saja Boys. Please take this free soda and cloth, here is a flyer as well. Enjoy the performance starting here soon."

This person had clearly said it hundreds of times with how monotonous it sounded.

You looked down at the goodies you were handed. There a bright pink can of soda with the lion logo on it, a black cloth with a pink lions head, and a flyer on with their name and logo on it as well. According to the information, it was starting shortly in the plaza center and it was a free performance.

"Why not, might as well," you mumbled to yourself as you began to walk over. Stuffing the flyer and cloth into your little side bag, you looked closer at the can of soda you were given. "What the actual fuck is Abs flavored soda?"

You turned the can to see what the ingredients list was because Abs wasn't a flavor but instead of seeing the usual table of additives and flavorings, it just said 1000% YOU on the back. Cute but useless for deciphering anything about the drink.

Regardless, you cracked it open and took a cautionary sip. It was pleasant, refreshing even. It had a fruity yet florla taste, something with berries and perhaps hibiscus. It was surgary and sweet, and honestly addicting. You almost hoped there would be more available after the free concert because this was delicious.

Your attention to the deliciously cold beverage was torn away when a cloud of purple smoke suddenly started to form in the plaza center, quite close to where you were actually. And just as sudden as the smoke, a background track started to play, the smoke clearing, and there stood...

Holy shit, these men were dangerously attractive.

Boy bands were objectively good looking, but these men were sinfully attractive. They wore bright colors and had even brighter hair, except who you assumed was the dashing lead who had very fluffy black hair. Their voices were like hot honey, smooth but set fire to your insides and soul. And clearly the crow agreed because everyone was going feral, even the older ahjummas were running up to them.

"Lookin' like snacks- 'cause you got it like that!

Take a big bite, want another bite, yeah!"

Fuck you in every position, you think you just found the one the soda was named after and fuck all if you didn't want a taste of him. Man was ripped, to say the least. His abs flashed from underneath the shorter green shirt, pecs ready to rip through the buttons, biceps pushing the seams to their limits. He held a dangerously seductive smile, hazel eyes sharp to match, the darker pink locks under his beanie bouncing softly as he danced.

For the first time in weeks, you felt genuine attraction towards someone and felt the familiar need to masturbate.

Because of him.

And as if he heard your thoughts, he turned to face you. Whether it was part of the dance or not, his eyes found yours and even gave you a wicked smirk, tongue coming to wet his lips for a moment and you felt the fire inside roar hotter. With one last wink, he flipped around to join his band mates in dancing for the main chorus.

"You're all I can think of, every drop I drink up.

You're my soda pop,

My little soda pop!"

His head snapped to you again as he sang and danced. And perhaps it was the delulu talking, but it felt so intentional as he sang the line "My little soda pop."

Regardless of your impending delusion and horniness, the song was ridiculously catchy. You found yourself dancing along without realizing, laughing and singing along as your shoulders popped side to side. These men were ridiculously talented and must be sponsored by a great talent agency because somehow, there was a giant soda can rising from the ground as they came to the end of the song.

As they delivered the last lyric and posed, the crowd and yourself went wild. Screams and cheers erupted from everyone, the energy was high and chaotic.

The leader began talking to the crowd as other members began to throw assorted merch at the crowd. It looked like light sticks, shirts, more cans of soda - you watched it all fly by in the air.

You turned back to the devilishly handsome men just in time to see the most chiseled, pink-haired specimen staring directly at you. There was no mistaking it this time, no delusion, because he crouched down slightly to throw merch at you. His eyes connected with yours, shirt tightening as he stretched, and down came a black shirt and bright pink can of soda.

It was suddenly hard to breathe because even after catching the merch, he stood up but continued to stare at you, dark eyes never breaking eye contact with you. You could hear the leader telling you to tune into the show tonight to watch them and that Saja Boys loved everyone.

"My Little Sodapop."

The baritone voice of the god standing above you rang straight into your core, a whimper coming involuntarily from your lips as he sang the words looking at you.

Another wink, a flash of purple, and they were all gone.

You were touching yourself tonight.

-

After buying a Saja Boys light stick from a stand nearby, you rushed home.

The need for release was suddenly consuming you, burning you up alive. Images of the pink-haired demon, his smirk, his tongue, those abs, it all played in your mind. You felt hot all over, mind plagued with him.

Crashing into your apartment, you threw everything down haphazardly and began to strip down. You felt warm, warm from your run and warm from the need that built inside you.

You threw your bare body down on your bed, fingers immediately between your wet folds. How you got this wet from that brief performance, from what you could barely call an interaction, was borderline ridiculous, perhaps he even embarrassing. Were you so starved you were getting off to a man who you looked at once, a man who's name you didn't know?

Yes, yes you were and you weren't ashamed.

"Fuck," you whispered breathlessly, fingers ghosting your sensitive clit. It had been awhile since you had touched yourself, or let alone been touched, and every nerve was on fire, sensitivity through the room.

A load, lustful moan filled the room as you put your fingers inside yourself, feeling your own tight walls clamp against two of your fingers. You didn't feel full enough, but you still slid your fingers in and out of your wet center and massaged your palm into your clit.

The pleasure felt amazing, the stimulation causing your body to stiffen and relax repeatedly, but...

"Not enough," you cried out, your climax seemingly out of of sight despite the stimulation.

A red glow filtered behind your eyelids, making them snap open as you look to the side. Mysteriously the light stick you bought had turned on, glowing bright red, beckoning you to it.

You removed your fingers from yourself, latching onto the handle of the light, smearing your own essence along it. You brought it to your face, the lion's eyes boaring into yours, like it was commanding you to do its bidding.

It seemed to glow brighter as you neared the handle closer to your pussy, urging you to use it for your own pleasure. Shifting your hands, you brought the handle down and began to rub it through your folds, pressing it into your clit.

Immediately, pleasure began to burst through your veins, stars dancing across your closed eyelids. You hadn't even inserted it into yourself yet, but it felt euphoric already.

After gliding it against yourself multiple times, coating the handle generously, you began to ease it into yourself gently. Your eyebrows scrunched at the foreign intrusion, walls tight and unsure if it was welcome.

The stars behind your eyelids were replaced suddenly with images of him again - pink hair tusseled, chiseled body on bare, his abs and chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat.

He was above you, panting through an open mouthed smirk, sharp canines on display, deep voice practically growling, "Atta girl, take it all in for me."

His golden eyes were locked with yours as you let a loud moan once again, the handle not fully fitting within you but filling you deliciously. Without breaking eye contact, you began to move it in and out of yourself, the motion filled with urgency as you climbed the ladder of euphoria.

Whimpers, pants, moans, began to fill the air, squelches sounding from your pussy as you used the light stick to pleasure yourself. All the while, those sinful golden stayed on you, watching your expressions, trailing down your naked body, locking in on to the light stick.

"How does it feel? Hmm?" He asked, his voice alone causing your eyes to roll, "Feel good fucking yourself with it?"

His words had you bucking up into the stick as it pushed in. "Feels good, 's so good," you mumbled incoherently.

He understood nonetheless, letting out a deep breathy laugh, "And yet you still wish it was me." It wasn't a question, it was a fact, one you could only whimper to answer.

After a few more strokes you suddenly felt the lightest touch along your stomach, a whisper of fingers as they trailed down towards your center.

Gold eyes met yours once more before deft and firm fingers pressed into your clit, a scream erupting from you lips at the stinging pleasure it brought. There was no mercy in his touch, his goal was to make you finish for him.

"What a good little slut you are for me," he taunted. "You don't even know my fucking name but you're sitting, fucking yourself to me."

Your arms were starting to get sore from the repetitive motion but you were teetering so close to the end, his ministrations and edge words hurtling you towards the finish. You needed this, you craved this.

"Be a good girl and scream my name when you come, Y/N, scream it for me."

Your blown out eyes met his again, trying hard to peace the sentence together, "What name, what-" cutting yourself off with a sharp moan, his fingers never letting up as you began to crest to the peak.

He leaned down, plump lips brushing your ear, biting his name out for you to scream.

You cried his name, chanted it like a fucking mantra, as you fell over the edge and into the darkest, deepest pit of euphoria. Your vision went black and you swore you felt something bit your neck as you fell.

When you opened your eyes again, the illusion of the sexy man was gone, his fingers never touched you, words never whispered, nothing. But you enjoyed the hallucination while it lasted because it felt amazing.

You removed the wand of the lightstick from yourself, grimacing how it was covered in your juices along with the sheets under yourself. Perhaps you broke it because it no longer shone red, which sucks because it wasn't cheap but you have no one to blame but your vagina.

Standing up with shaky and sore legs, you swiped the cloth from your bag and wiped yourself off with it. You were dripping from your orgasm and covered in sweat, feeling droplets roll down your face, neck, chest. Dropping the cloth to the side, you unfolded the shirt the chiseled vixen gifted you as well. From first glance it just seemed like an extra large shirt with Saja Boys written in fuchsia letter, but the lettering on the bottom made your heart drop and the sweat on body feel ice cold.

Abby.

The name Abby was scrawled at the bottom corner of the shirt in gold writing.

The same name your illusion of him told you to scream when you came.

And in the corner, gold eyes watched you from the shadows, lips smirking at how your heart and mind raced with momentary panic. You had no idea he was there, lurking over you.

He brought his fingers to his plump lips, a flash of a tongue parting them, and the sinful flesh tracing, licking your juices off of him. A silent groan built in his chest, a rumble at how exquisite you taste.

His little human tasted so sweet.

He couldn't wait to eat you up.

[kittyzzzwriting]

namgyu x fem reader

sfw + nsfw headcanons

A/N: these are reposted from my wattpad, I made these like months ago. i have edited it, but so prepare for bad spelling, possible cringe anything. enjoy ?

sfw headcanons

°ׂׂૢ • — black cat bf, he's open to affection, but in the meanest way possible. just like a cat.

°ׂׂૢ • — as we know, he's very touchy, always has a hand on you, wrapped around your waist on shoulder, on your ass or holding your hand.

°ׂׂૢ • — will act pissy if you wear his clothes, but in reality he doesn't care, he loves it. thinks you're cute.

°ׂׂૢ • — the minute he gets home from work, his arms are around your waist as his nose takes in the familiar scent of you and your perfume.

°ׂׂૢ • — he likes his women just a little younger, a couple years, vulnerable - nothing 'creepy', according to him.

°ׂׂૢ • — he WILL try to get you to do some drugs, even if it's just weed or cigarettes - anything.

°ׂׂૢ • — will snort coke off your thigh.

°ׂׂૢ • — he's one of those people who hates vaping because he knows it's bad, but will still smoke a cigarette.

°ׂׂૢ • — if you let him, nam-gyu definitely has and will take you with him to work, dealing drugs and promoting the club all while showing you off too.

°ׂׂૢ • — definitely loves to gaslight you, he has his ways to get what he wants and he just loves you in distress.

°ׂׂૢ • — LOVES and NEEDS your attention always, he gets jealous very easy and show it

°ׂׂૢ • — but, hes the type to get pissy when you're jealous.

°ׂׂૢ • — always sweet talking you into situations, gasligthing and manipulating you

°ׂׂૢ • — cuddles with you when going to bed, he's the big spoon. there's no other way.

°ׂׂૢ • — and by cuddles I mean he's layed on top of you, drooling as he lazily has his hand tangled in your hair

nsfw headcanons

-: ̗̀➛ 7 inches, thin.

-: ̗̀➛ he is one nasty dog.

-: ̗̀➛ biter and a licker,

-: ̗̀➛ panty stealer,

-: ̗̀➛ and a panty sniffer. probably even licks them, and definitely jerks off with them.⠀

-: ̗̀➛ really likes, love, almost adores doggy style,

-: ̗̀➛ back to the whole smoking thing, if you smoke - my god just watching with a cigarette stuck between your lips turns him on

nam-gyu has your panties are in his hands, wrapped around his twitching cock as he jerks off with them.

eventually cumming all over them, making a mess. if your home - he's making you to wear them afterwards.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

-: ̗̀➛ bites, nips and makes you bleed - by the morning you've got bruises, bite marks and some little scabs.

-: ̗̀➛ weirdo freak, licking your neck, tits and thighs.

-: ̗̀➛ loves eating you out, but WANTS you to ride his face, he encourages it.

-: ̗̀➛ breeding kink. but, doesn't want any children.

-: ̗̀➛ blood play, blood on your fingers? he'll suck them, even if its his own.

-: ̗̀➛ this man will get a blade and cut you, kissing the open bloody wounds. hope you're not a model.

-: ̗̀➛ after kissing his marks he makes on you, (the cuts) he's licking the blood up. don't be surprised if you get an infection. his mouth is dirty.

-: ̗̀➛ grunts.

-: ̗̀➛ will, and I mean will - fuck you with all your clothes still on, especially if it's something nice and skimpy

-: ̗̀➛ loooovvesss quickies, in a public bathroom, the break room at work, on the car - anywhere.

-: ̗̀➛ oh, and you know how I said he loves to bring you to work with him?

-: ̗̀➛ he fucks you in the staff room, and he does it HARD. people can't hear you anyway, you're in a club.

-: ̗̀➛ smokes after sex, and will put them out on you. but, also very cuddly!

-: ̗̀➛ he always bites your lips when you kiss, his goal is to break the skin.

-: ̗̀➛ tit sucker, not often - but will. loves your tits

-: ̗̀➛ smacks you. hard. on the ass or face, always degrading you as he does so.⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

namgyu brought his hand up before a loud smack could be heard, your ass suddenly stinging as he hunched over to grunt and whisper into your ear: 'you fucking slut, don't do that again.'