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steviebbboi · 1 month

Text

Good For It

Pairing: Ari Levinson x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k~ (no idea how this happened) 🫣

Summary: Ari was deeply misunderstood by everyone except you. What happens when someone tries to hurt the one person he cares about the most?

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 writing challenge, "Siri's Birthday Bonenanza"~ Thank you to Siri for hosting this, and hoping that you all enjoy this as much I loved writing it :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; Mentions/threats of violence, mentions of drugging reader (not by Ari), mentions of sexual harassment (again, not by Ari), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, Lumberjack!Ari, Veteran!Ari.

Prompts: Ari Levinson x F!Reader feat. Bryce Langley (not involved with Reader at all) + "The moment you or babe realize you’re in love with the other" + "Scary!babe is in love and a simp for you" + "Playful trolling/banter"

Quote Prompts: “Why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” + “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” + “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. + “Can you just…hold me, please?”

Trope Prompt: Scary, dangerous!babe who is only soft with you

Kink(s) Prompt: Size kink + Praise kink + Squirting + Manhandling +soft!dom (ish) + Possessive!babe + breeding (ish?)

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

Rowdy laughter and the clinking of glasses came into earshot as you pushed the bar doors open. You greeted the bouncer as you usually did and gave a quick scan of the back of the bar. Once you found who you were looking for, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile as you headed toward the back.

Ari Levinson, the local town recluse with only four friends (including yourself and the bouncer-ish). He’s a retired military veteran and is known as “that weird, scary dude who lives alone up in the mountains.” To be fair, the town’s whispered descriptions of him were not entirely inaccurate.

You could feel the regular, daily stares coming in hot as you continued walking toward the back booths. Although you were used to it at this point, you could feel yourself becoming more tense as the whispers started to creep through.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you passed by one woman in particular who seemed to always let out a muttered comment under her breath—all synonymous with criticism that you never took lightly.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’ll end up in the morgue someday.”

“He just has her wrapped around his finger, huh? Someone should say something.”

“You know he almost beat a guy to death a year ago. What is a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like him?”

“Nobody told her to leave the undesirables alone.”

Any and all comments surrounding Ari’s character felt crushing every time you heard them. In the beginning of your relationship with Ari, you used to cry yourself to sleep every night because some of the comments were so scathing. All these people were just judging you because you were with a person that you deeply cared about.

Ari would be there every night to soothe you (he didn’t care as much about what others said). He would wipe your tears by holding your face in his big hands and kiss you until you couldn’t remember what you were crying about in the first place.

See, there are things that people don’t know about Ari. They judged him based on his background and one incident at the mill. He was hulking over everyone at 6'5", his stature and demeanor a bit more closed off and quiet. When people tried to say hi to him, he would give them a small grunt and continue on his way. He wasn’t a small man by any means, emotionally or physically (of which, your size difference is something you both indulge in, in many ways).

The problem was that they only saw and perceived things from the surface. They didn’t see all of the qualities underneath that make him so desirable, wanted, and valuable to you. With Ari, you felt protected, safe, and secure in ways that you had never experienced before. You never felt disrespected by him in the slightest. People didn’t see that, even through his dark aimless stares or quiet mumbles and grumbles, he still cared and was incredibly kind.

One day, you were working furiously on your laptop as you sat on Ari’s couch. Your work was demanding, and more often than not, you would work your remote 9-to-5 job straight through without taking care of yourself. Ari only ever gazed at you with curiosity and never said anything about it. Although you could tell from his stare that he disapproved of your self-negligence. The next time you sat working, Ari placed some dinner on the coffee table in front of you. The smell of the hot, homemade food made your tummy rumble as you stopped typing after four hours of working nonstop to look up at him with surprise.

“Eat,” Ari said simply and reached out to stroke the exposed skin peeking out from underneath the blanket on top of you before heading back to the kitchen. You usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your work, but his act of care was so wholesome and precious that you stopped and ate the whole thing.

Ari came back once you were finished to sit down next to you under the blanket with a book. He made an effort to get comfortable by placing his large, calloused hand on your inner thigh underneath your now-shared afghan before getting back to his reading. You could only stare at him, astonished by how this beefy, quiet giant of a man managed to not only get you to pause your work but also make you eat (disrupting your chain of focus and habits was not an easy feat, just ask your ex-partners). He let out another deep grumble when you kissed his bearded cheek with a soft thank you as you put away your laptop and leaned into his shoulder to read with him.

It was then that you realized Ari, depicted as this scary, violent, tainted, isolated person, was deeply misunderstood.

It was also the moment that you realized you were deeply in love with him.

Coming out of your reverie, you let out the tension that had been carried in your chest as you saw your man start to turn as you finally approached the booth. Your soft smile turned into a genuine grin when your eyes met his. You greeted Sammy (his third friend) as you went to scoot next to Ari. You put an arm around him to give a gentle rub on his large back while giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. As usual, he gave you a quiet, deep mumble of acknowledgement but proceeded to put his muscular arm around you protectively, giving you the opportunity to place the hand that had been shoved to your side around his thick, jean-clad thigh.

“What are we talking about?” You engaged Sammy first, knowing that Ari would likely be more of an active listener, as he usually was.

Sammy and Ari were in service together, along with Rachel (the bartender and the fourth friend, completing the group). Ari was noticeably relaxed with them, as he was with you, but you had no idea how they got the man to talk. You heard stories of their time in active duty, but they never went beyond surface-level details. You knew Ari had done some dangerous work during his time in the military; he never really talked about it, but you could surmise that he was still recovering from it, especially since that incident a year ago.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Rachel threw beer on a guy who was trying to score free drinks by hitting on her,” Sammy said with a smirk.

You laughed freely. “Man, I wish I had been there to see it! Some newbie at the office messed something up, and who has to fix it? Me, of course.” You rolled your eyes and put a hand to your forehead to rub away the fatigue.

“Did you eat, baby?” Ari cut in quietly. You turned to meet his concerned gaze and gave him a soft smile with a rub to his knee. “Yes, honey. I was able to have my assistant run out to grab some grub. Don’t worry.”

He gave another affirmative grunt with a nod and shifted to hand you a beer that was hidden at the end of the table. You huffed out a quiet laugh before giving him one last squeeze on the knee before reaching for the drink gratefully. Of course, Ari had already gotten you a drink but only gave it to you after you gave your daily report. He was always looking after you.

“When are they going to gear up and give you that promotion?” Sammy asked, shaking his head.

You gave a despondent shake before sighing. “You know, they’re a small company. I think we’re understaffed as it is right now. That’s why these new hires keep making these small mistakes.”

“Aaaand that’s why they need to promote you to manager, to teach some sense into ‘em! Ari’s always sayin’ you’d be a great supervisor.” He replied with an encouraging smile.

Now you were the one letting out a small questioning mumble while looking down at your drink bashfully. You felt Ari stroke the back of your arm with a firm gentleness, and you knew it really meant, “Yes, you do deserve more.”

This kind of touch was often a reminder for you to believe in yourself and that you deserved better things (a tough job for your ex-partners, you might add). Ari had seemingly broken a cycle for you, helping you genuinely care about yourself in a way you hadn’t before. (All the ways he protects you are just sickeningly cute, aren’t they?)

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gave Sammy a stronger “hm” in response and said, “I know. I mean, when will these bastards just wake up?”

Sammy gave a shout of laughter and a “hell yeah” before giving you another supportive response. You turned to Ari briefly to give him another smile of appreciation, only to notice that he was already looking at you. But the glint in his eyes… you hadn’t seen that before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Sammy announcing he was going back to the bar for another drink.

The two of you were now alone, just observing each other. A shiver ran down your spine at his piercing gaze as you asked quietly, “Everything okay, honey?”

At your reserved tone, Ari gave you a subtle, tilted smile. “I love you,” he said simply.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes widen at his surprise revelation. You knew that you loved Ari, maybe even before you realized it yourself. There were many ways the two of you showed your love and care for each other—from cooking food for each other to gentle caresses during more intimate moments. However, this was the first time either of you had ever said it out loud.

Now you were the one stumbling over your words, struggling to respond, swallowing thickly as you tried to say it back. It’s not that you felt you couldn’t, but the man had just revealed that he loved you, in a bar no less! The guy was usually full of grumbles, deep hums, and mumbles. You never would have expected him to reveal something so vulnerable and intimate in an environment like this. You figured your actions would be proof enough, and that was okay with you. You accepted that about Ari—you never expected him to actually say it.

At your floundering, Ari had a full-on smirk on his handsome face. He seemed to appreciate how the tables had turned. You stopped your mumbles once you saw his reaction to your shock and squinted your eyes in fake indignation. His smirk only grew wider, the glint you noticed earlier now turning into an affectionate mirth that you knew Ari reserved just for you.

“Damn him and his sexy, lumberjack hotness,” you thought to yourself. You and Ari both knew you loved it when he teased you like this. You pretended to be upset, but it was all part of how well the two of you bantered throughout your relationship.

Most of your relationship involved speaking in a language your friends couldn’t quite understand, which only played into the image of how polar opposites you two were. But you and Ari reveled in it, just like Ari was now. You were more embarrassed at being caught stumbling on your words, and felt the need to beat him in your little game. The man hadn’t even said anything in the past minute, and he was already winning. He knew how you felt about him; it was just fun for him to see you all flustered.

“HA– alright, Mr. Grumbles. I’m going to get us some more drinks. Did you want anything else?” you said begrudgingly while gathering your glasses to bring back to the bar.

“No, baby. Sammy said he was going to get us some, though.” Ari conceded his smirk (and victory). Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—Sammy came up behind you to slide back into the booth, but with only one drink in his hand. You and Ari stared at him and then looked back at the beer with questioning eyes.

Sammy got comfortable and noticed both of your stares only when he realized that nobody was talking. Glancing down at his own drink, then toward your empty glasses, and back to your amused stares again, he muttered abashedly, “You didn’t say I had to get you another drink too.”

You let out a small giggle and looked back at Ari again to repeat, “Did you want anything else, baby?”

Ari responded with the same amusement in his tone. “No, love.” He grinned back at you as he said the endearment, which only furthered your fake ire. You pouted your lips in playful anger and met his beguiled stare with your own before standing up from the booth.

As you gathered the empty glasses again, you saw Ari attempting to grab them from you as he also stood up from his seat.

“No– don’t worry, Ari. I’ve got it,” you reassured him, but he ignored you and responded only with a grunt. He proceeded to scoot out of the small booth, hunched over the table.

Letting the glasses go, you pressed down on Ari’s shoulders hard to shove him back into his seat. His eyes widened in surprise at the forceful touch as he sat back down, but you knew you hadn’t hurt him. If anything, he lurched back from you since he didn’t want to bump into you while attempting to get out.

“Goddammit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” you scolded him in feigned anger. You grabbed the glasses quickly and scurried away before he could respond. You only heard him and Sammy laughing at your retreat before the chatter from the other end of the bar became more prominent as you approached.

Setting the two glasses down on an empty section of the bar top, you leaned over slightly to catch Rachel’s perceptive gaze. She nodded with a smile on her face as she made you two new drinks. Glancing around the rest of the bar with mild interest, you couldn’t help but reflect on Ari’s intimate reveal.

A smile spread onto your lips, and you let out a small laugh to yourself. You were in love with a man who communicated with short hums and grunts, and with only three words—he had unraveled you. You felt so happy in that moment to be with someone who could meet you where you were, for once.

At first, you were intimidated by the looming lumberjack, but as you got to know each other, you grew to understand that he didn’t need big, fancy words to connect with you. Ari was the kind of partner who was straightforward with you and never hid anything maliciously while still respecting the integrity of your relationship. You felt grateful to be a part of each other’s lives.

Floating mindlessly in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man staring at you across the bar. You also didn’t notice him approaching until you heard him say, “Hey there, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

Glancing over, the giddiness you felt thinking about your relationship with Ari was now interrupted by feelings of annoyance and suspicion. “I’m good, thanks,” you responded dismissively, not even bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, c’mon—just wanna talk a bit. Hey, are you with anyone right now?” the guy persisted.

Looking at the intrusive person, you could tell he was a bit younger than you. His polo shirt was disheveled, and his demeanor seemed careless. If his side-swept hair wasn’t an indication of his immaturity, it was the way he reeked of alcohol and weed. A smug smile lifted on his face as he assumed you were checking him out, when in reality, you were trying to piece together how to shut this down and walk around him on your way back to the booth.

“Uh, I am. Just waiting for our drinks,” you answered shortly, hoping your dismissiveness would be enough to make him go away. Heckling men never seem to take the hint when you’re not interested, and it seems like telling them off only riles them up more.

“Well, if I were your friend, I certainly wouldn’t have let you come up here by yourself. There are some weirdos out here, y’know?” He leaned onto the bar and into you, his body too close for comfort. You leaned back and crossed your arms defensively.

“I’m sorry—let me? Listen, kid—you got one thing right: there are weirdos out here. Almost like some weirdos just don’t seem to get the hint when they’re harassing women who only want to be left alone by the bar.” You couldn’t hold in your snark as this misogynistic asshole seemed to only smile wider at your reactions.

“Right! That’s why you’re lucky I’m here, sweetheart. Considering that I’m being so helpful by giving you this piece of advice, I think that now makes us friends.” He laughed, ignoring your irritation.

“Everything okay here?” You looked up to find Rachel putting down the newly made beers while looking the stranger dead in the eyes. You could see him squirm a bit, and you stifled a giggle—you were always amused to see her put men in their place.

“It’s okay, Rach. I’m heading back to those two dummies, anyway.” You left some bills on the counter. Rachel gave you a look since she always insisted drinks were on the house for you, but you never really listened. She took the money anyway, gave the guy one last daggered look, and made a small dismissive sound before leaving to attend to other customers.

Ignoring Rachel’s reaction, he turned to you and said, “Well, where are these two dummies you speak of? Are they cute like you?” He looked over at the general crowd of women lingering behind you.

You cleared your throat at his blatant ignorance. “Actually, my two dummies are over there.” You pointed to the back where Sammy and Ari’s profiles could be briefly seen.

He followed your hand to see the two men sitting there and let out a surprised “ah.” He looked back at you after seeing the men but couldn’t help but do a double take once he recognized one of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy’s friend?” he asked incredulously, looking at you expectantly.

You gave him a warning look and made an affronted sound. “Careful. ‘Friends’ don’t talk to their friends like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You gestured to take your drinks, which seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Hey, hey—wait! Relax, relax. That just took me off guard, but… I mean, you do know what he did, right?” He gave you the same look others would give you, almost disgusted, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘girl like you’ would be with a ‘guy like him.’

Your eyes narrowed and you huffed an exasperated breath, preparing to retort, but were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Yo, Bryce, hurry up!” You looked to the end of the bar to see another young man in a polo (god, these entitled kids are a dime a dozen) looking over at you. They wore the same cocky, smug smiles, and you were immediately done with this interaction.

Letting out a scoff, you replied, “Well, Bryce, it’s been real. Now, please, leave me alone.” Not mincing words nor your mocking tone, you started to grab your drinks when you froze in place, frowning as you noticed one of your drinks had an abnormal fizz on top.

“Are you kidding me? Did he just…?” Your thoughts felt scattered as you realized that your drink had been spiked. Your frown persisted as you looked back at Bryce in disbelief. “Did you really just do that?”

Bryce looked nonchalant at your question and, almost innocently, responded, “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He had a dopey look on his face, but he couldn’t even hide his rising grin at your growing outrage. You knew you weren’t overreacting and you knew what you saw in your drink.

“You just spiked my drink—what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You accused and turned to catch Rachel’s attention. A strong grip twisted your arm back to Bryce as he looked at you with something completely vile in his eyes. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear with venom as you leaned back and attempted to get his hand off you. “Stuck-up bitch. You know you would’ve been asking for it if you didn’t have your killer boyfriend to cover you.”

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you panic even more, his unrelenting grip getting tighter by the second. You shouted while trying to push him off you, “Get the fuck off of me! LET GO!”

You flailed your limbs more in your attempts to make a scene. You heard a barstool crash to the ground loudly, and all of a sudden Bryce’s fingers were no longer around your arm. The only thing in your vision was a person’s vast back.

Ari.

Catching your breath from your panic, the sounds of the bar that had seemed to mute during your thrashing suddenly tuned back in. You registered pained groans and the utter silence, yet concerned murmurs scattered across the room. Looking over from behind Ari’s back, you saw Sammy putting a hand in between Ari and Bryce, who was now on the floor, clutching his nose with blood spilling out rapidly.

“You fucking prick! I’ll press charges!” Bryce shouted from the ground as his friends crowded around him, trying to get him up.

Rachel raised her voice to be heard amidst the chaos and said, “I saw what happened, asshole. I’d be happy to call the cops and let them know about you and your buddies’ attempts to sexually harass my customers.”

Bryce, now being held up by his friends, looked over at Rachel menacingly. Rachel didn’t back down and walked towards the phone on the wall. “Shall we?”

Bryce hissed in pain from his new injury and looked back to meet Ari’s stone-cold eyes. Sammy turned to face Bryce and his friends with a look of caution, almost ready to get into a fight if it came to that.

Bryce took a heavy gulp, attempting to stare Ari down with bravado. He then locked his jaw and scoffed, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

The bouncer suddenly appeared behind you, making you startle slightly, and pushed the group toward the exit. As they got closer, you hid yourself behind Ari’s back and gripped his shirt tightly for comfort. You could feel Ari’s hand reach for your waist, and you assumed he could sense your shaking and wanted to offer you more protection and ease.

In your peripheral vision, you could see and feel Bryce’s eyes staring at you, almost as if he wanted to say one last thing. But Ari’s grip on your waist tightened as he turned to face Bryce directly, orienting you with him and blocking his gaze from you. Though you couldn’t see it, Ari looked deadly in that moment, removing any access Bryce had to your presence.

“If you ever come back in here, and if I ever see you near her again, I will hurt you,” Ari said quietly, but his warning reverberated across the large space. “And you know that I’m good for it.”

Bryce, still clutching his nose, averted his gaze and continued moving toward the exit.

As the group exited, people still looked over but gradually returned to their tables and muttered conversations. The jukebox came back on at a lower volume, and people eventually resumed their activities.

You were still clutching Ari’s back as you released a sigh of relief. You leaned into him, your forehead resting between his shoulders. The adrenaline had left you with residual energy, and it was noticeably hard for you to regulate your emotions. Ari heard you release one more exhale in an attempt to calm down before he turned to meet your tight grip with his strong hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby.” He released your hands with one last squeeze and cupped your face sweetly. He whispered more reassurances as he pulled your face close to his and leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sammy, we’re gonna get going.” Ari glanced at the teary-eyed look on your face and knew you couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t have expected you to, either—he was accustomed to chaotic and loud environments, able to regulate during scary situations. Ari knew this was exceptionally jarring for you, and he desperately wanted to protect you from any feelings of unsafety. His priority since you entered his life was to preserve your softness, and if his hard exterior could help do that, he would go to any length to ensure you felt secure with him.

“Of course, check in and get home safe.” You also turned to give Sammy and Rachel a soft smile and a quiet ‘thank you.’ If there was any effort to expend, it would be that.

They returned your smile with reminders to be safe while driving home, and Ari took your small hand in his to lead you to the exit. You both passed by the bouncer, who returned Ari’s thanks for earlier with an affirmative nod and also gave you a parting “feel better.” You muttered your appreciation and clutched Ari’s forearm with your other hand still in his. You felt that if you weren’t right by his side, if he weren’t touching you, the panic would rush back in.

On the car ride back to Ari’s place, you kept yourself as close to him as possible. The truck’s seats facilitated closeness; Ari wrapped his right arm around you protectively while driving with his left.

Ari appreciated that you felt safe with him. Unbeknownst to you, his own panic about losing you crept in whenever you weren’t by his side.

His arm wrapped around you tighter, and his caress provided comfort for him as well during the rest of the ride home.

Later that night, after Ari got out of the shower, you noticed cuts on his knuckles from his punch earlier.

“Ari, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Come here.” You scolded him as you led the giant of a man (a very half-naked, still wet giant of a man—okay, focus) to sit on the toilet seat.

“Baby, it’s fine—” Ari began to say, but you interrupted him, “Honey, let me do this—why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” Ari let out a rare scoffed smile at your dramatic flair before acknowledging you with his usual grunt. You returned his smile and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Ari watched you as you ventured over to the bathroom counter to gather the first aid kit. You were already in your sleep clothes—simple camisole and shorts. Though he remained silent, you could feel his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. You glanced up at the wide mirror and caught him in the act as his gaze lingered a bit too long on your ass. You stifled a small laugh, and his eyes met yours unashamedly.

You turned to walk back over to him, and his eyes never left yours as you took his palm gently between your hands. As you cleaned the small wound, you could feel his gaze burning on your skin. You took your time patching him up, and with the last bandage, you brought his burly hand to your lips, planting a meaningful kiss on his knuckles. Continuing to brush your lips against the back of his hand, you left more kisses until you reached the underside of his wrist.

Ari’s gaze darkened with every peck of affection you left on his clean skin. As you raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, Ari’s other arm wrapped around the low of your waist, pulling you in closer. Deciding you weren’t close enough, you straddled his towel-clad waist. Enjoying the intimacy, you both savored the simplicity of feeling safe in each other’s embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you softly caressed his wet strands of hair away from his face. Tucking your face into the crevice of his neck, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly, feeling his large hands rub up and down your back. You felt so small enveloped in his arms.

“Look at me, baby,” Ari whispered softly. He laid a calloused hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. His other arm remained wrapped around you to support you, and he said, “I know that we don’t talk about this often enough, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You gave Ari a confused look. “I know that, Ari. I trust you. I always feel safe with you.” His eyes were full of concern as you rushed to reassure him. Your own hand rested on his bearded cheek. “I know that what happened at the mill last year has lingered a bit.”

He turned his gaze downward until you cooed at him, making him look back at you. “Hey, I know you. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right. At that moment, it was about protecting Sammy. The guy was making threats against you both. It made sense that you went to defend yourself.”

Ari was quiet for a minute. You continued stroking his cheek to let him process. This was a vulnerable conversation for Ari that his usual grunts couldn’t explain.

He broke the silence by saying, “I lied to you.”

Your heart froze, and you felt even more confused. Your hand dropped back down to grip his bulky shoulder. “What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

Ari met your curious gaze with an ashamed look. “He wasn’t making threats against Sammy… he was saying things about you. Us. How a woman like you shouldn’t be with someone like me—‘damaged goods.’”

Lines formed between your eyebrows as you tried to register what Ari was saying. Leaning into your silence, he continued, “Then he started saying that he would be a better fit for you. He talked about all the ways he would treat you better, and then he shoved me and… I just lost it.” Ari’s mouth twisted grimly, and his eyes held a weighted look. “I just… didn’t want to lose you.”

Swallowing thickly, you reflected on that time in your relationship when you heard about Ari being involved in an accident at the mill. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized there had been no accident, and that Ari had put his co-worker in the hospital. Of course, you worried about the implications of his actions and what it would mean for the two of you. At a certain point, you did question your safety with Ari.

But you remembered meeting him at the station when the police let him go due to it being self-defense (and many of Ari’s co-workers, including Sammy, vouching for the incident). He had the same look that he had now—fear.

In that moment, despite what he had done, you knew there was something so strong and willed behind his reaction. He was so protective and gentle with you, and you believed him. You believed that that was the man that you were falling in love with. You just never would have guessed it came from the fear of losing you.

Realizing you had been quiet for a while as you processed your feelings and what you wanted to say, Ari didn’t move from his position. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for your response.

Releasing a slow breath, you cupped Ari’s face in your hands and looked him in the eye. “You protect, Ari, that’s just what you do.”

Ari exhaled in relief and felt a dark weight lift off of his shoulders, his stomach no longer churning, while putting his forehead to your chest. He moved his arms under your butt and lifted you slightly to do this but you embraced him openly. You stroked his hair again as he started kissing your exposed skin above your breast until he was laying a series of soft kisses up your neck. You both knew what his kisses really meant: “I’m sorry, I love you.”

You hummed out a soft moan as his lips found that spot under your ear that felt extra sensitive to his touch. Turning his face to meet your cheek, he tilted his head slightly so that he could finally reach your mouth. You allowed Ari to control the pace of the kiss and moaned when you felt his tongue softly caress yours.

The tension in the air quickly thickened into something more primal and electric from Ari’s confession. There was something about this huge, strong man protecting only you that made you feel so worshiped and desired. These feelings start to overcome you and you move to sit on top of Ari’s towel-covered erection only to grind yourself down on him. Ari groaned sensually into the kiss at the feeling of delicious pressure sitting on his hard cock. Your mouths continue languidly meeting each other when you let out a squeak from Ari suddenly gripping your thighs tightly to carry you back into the bedroom.

You released a squeal as Ari threw you on top of the bed before dropping his towel on the floor. Breathing heavier, you backed up on the bed to get a better look at his glorious sculpted figure and Ari only smirked at your hooded eyes gazing all over his body. Standing at the edge of the bed, Ari decided that you were too far away and he gripped your ankle to roughly tug you back towards him. Letting out another brief squeal and giggle, you quickly sought into his rhythm as he kneeled onto the bed.

His bulking mass overshadowed you as he leaned forward to place more deceivingly gentle kisses upon the exposed skin of your stomach where your tank top rode up. Your stomach fluttered as you could feel his kisses getting wetter, and were leading down towards your cotton-clad pussy. You whined in anticipation as Ari gently tugged off your shorts to reveal your soaking core.

Ari let out a deep groan at the sight of your pussy weeping for his touch. Using his hands to spread your legs open to make space for his massive stature, you gasped for air even though he has barely touched you. You stroke the hands holding you down and beg, “Ari, please. Please do something.”

At your begging, Ari released a louder groan this time. “God, baby. Look at you just creaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me to take care of you, sweet girl?”

He used his forearms to hold your already squirming legs down as he used his thumb to cut through a string of wet and reveal your thrumming pink clit. Not being able to resist his own yearning, he gave a firm lick up your cunt and released a deep groan at the first taste of you on his tongue. “Oh fuck, you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned and went back into your cunt for more.

You sobbed your pleasure at the feeling of his tongue caressing your wet folds, “Yes, please, Ari– please!” His tongue continued licking all over your pussy while he released his own small moans at the taste of you. He made sure to thrust his tongue into your soaked opening before licking his way back towards your now puffy clit.

Your moans steadily increased in volume and small, short-bursts of whimpers fell out of your mouth as Ari devoured you. Feeling his lips suction at your clit, you mewl and feel his thick finger start to breach your entrance. Your head fell back on the bed, your mouth agape at the sheer pleasure you were receiving from your man. One hand tightly gripping the sheet next to you and the other wrapped in Ari’s hair as you kept him in place, your hips started to thrust back into his mouth and fingers. Not expecting for you to turn so wildly, Ari’s mouth left your clit unwillingly. Letting out a whine at the loss of warmth, you press down on the back of Ari’s head to get him back into position.

But all of a sudden, you felt a sharp smack on your ass and you let out a yelp. Ari was still thrusting his finger, and inserting a second one, at a slower pace when he looked up at you. His lips and beard glistened with your wetness when he said darkly, “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand me, baby?”

You could only respond with a soft whimper before letting out another cry as he slapped your ass again. “I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Ari, I understand.” You responded with a glazed look in your eye at the combination of pain from his smacks and pleasure from his domineering words.

“There’s my sweet girl, so good for me.” Ari said before he kissed his way back to your sopping cunt, his fingers thrusting faster now as his mouth created a suction on your clit again. Releasing out a louder cry at the transition, you could feel Ari’s fingers start to push deeper and curve inside of you to find your g-spot. You let out a sharp gasp once you felt him start to stroke that spongy spot over and over again while his tongue started to softly create a rhythmic pattern on your throbbing bud.

The other thing about your relationship with Ari is that he was the most vocal when you were fucking. He always let you know how you felt around him and freely praised you as you gave each other the most visceral and intense experience. Anticipating more from him, your body rolled with his fingers to get him even deeper inside of you.

Only squeaking out sounds now, your high-pitched tones of pleasure were music to Ari’s ears. Your wet starting to squelch around his fingers and spurt out of you, Ari knew you were almost there. His fingers thrusted faster into you and curved in deeper with each thrust. He groaned, “Hmm, yeah baby? Is this the spot right here?”

You couldn’t conjure up a response as you were only experiencing the immense pleasure that he was giving to you and almost animalistic groans started leaving your throat. Ari looked up to see your head thrown back on the bed and your upper body contorting, your tanktop having ridden up and was now showing your beautiful perky, round breasts. Nipples peaked in heightened pleasure. Witnessing you like this was a privilege for Ari and he never thought you looked more beautiful than when you were writhing for him in the bedroom.

A deep desire to witness more of you, Ari increased his efforts by pushing down on your tummy just above your mount. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Be a good girl for me, and let me have it. Let go for me.” He breathes against your slit while giving you one last intentional suck and rapid licking at your clit.

Inhaling sharply, his words were your undoing as you felt that tight knot inside of you tear in ecstasy. Your head tossed back in euphoria as you cum hard, your pussy clenched around his fingers. Though, Ari didn’t stop thrusting his fingers deep inside of you. Whispering good girl and so sweet against your thrumming folds as he continued to coach you through your release.

You let out a satiated whimper at experiencing your orgasm but Ari wasn’t stopping. If anything, his fingers curved into your g-spot faster and his tongue licked harder at your humming, swollen clit. You did thrash at the overstimulation. Your disobedience resulted in Ari slapping your ass once more. Even though it was served as a punishment, it seemed to only end up heightening your yearning for a second release. Noticing that your juices were spurting out excessively now, Ari kept slapping your ass as your pussy gripped tighter onto his large fingers.

Letting out a myriad of whimpers and desperate moans, you sobbed out, “Ari please, please…I can’t do it, please!”

“Yes, you can baby, you can. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You couldn’t answer him other than your random babblings– you couldn’t even think as you felt so consumed by the pleasure that he was giving you. You felt like you were being consumed by him and adored at the same time.

A cry left your lips as he slapped your ass harder. “I asked you a question, are you my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, please, let me cum, please!” You sobbed out.

Ari grunted deeply, “Your pussy is begging for it– you hear that?” He quieted only for the sounds of your own wetness slopping out of you to fill the space. “Mmm, see, I know you can do it, just one more, love.” Ari went back to suckling on your clit while he rubbed and grabbed at your now pink-colored flesh.

Hearing him use this endearment again as his lips never left your body made your eyes roll up and you inadvertently held your breath as you let go for the second time. You register Ari’s moans and praise against your clit as you squirt your cum into his awaiting mouth.

All you could let out were quiet mumbles of satisfaction as Ari’s fingers slowed. Your body was still jerking as it carried out aftershocks of your release, and you let out another sharp breath as Ari left one last kiss on your velvety folds.

You were attempting to catch your breath as Ari kissed his way up your body, spending some time on your nipples by taking one in his mouth while his hand caressed your other breast. Ari brought up his fingers that were just inside of you to stroke your nipple and groaned as you glistened with your own cum. Leaning down, he took your nipple in his mouth again to suck it clean. You moaned softly and arched your back to give him more access as your hands stroked affectionately through his hair.

Working his way back towards your bite-ridden lips, Ari slanted his wet mouth over yours as you taste yourself on his tongue. The both of you moaned as you continued making out leisurely. Ari pulled back to lick your lips sensually before dipping into your open mouth one more time for his tongue to meet yours in a passionate, sloppy dance.

Ari stroked your hair away from your face. “You ready for my cock, baby?”

You whined and nodded as he leaned down to give you another wet kiss. You feel him reaching for his cock, hard and resting on your clit heavily. You mewled at him again as he slapped your clit with the wide mushroom head of his cock and he pushed in slowly.

Groaning together at the feel of his thick cock bottoming in you, Ari lets out a strained moan. “Fuuuck baby, your pretty pussy is just sucking me in. Agh, so tight.”

He withdrew until he was almost out of you before thrusting back into you deeply. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open as you could feel the veins on his girthy cock graze your inner walls.

Ari leaned his head back in ecstasy at the feel of you clenching around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out your name, “Yes, take it, baby. Take my fat cock.”

You felt like you could barely breathe as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was sinking in so deep and you were gasping for air at all of the sensations your body was experiencing. Besides your mutual groans and moans, the sounds of your union could be heard as you only became wetter at the stimulation.

“I’m so full, so full…so big, Ari.” You mumbled out, your eyes crossed in ecstasy. Ari let out a condescending laugh, “Aww, look at you. Can’t even speak, can you? Just continue taking my cock, honey, you’re so good at it.”

Ari leaned up and thrust out of you, despite your desperate whining, only to turn you on your stomach. You feel him kneel outside of your thighs that were clenched together, and only had time to hold onto the pillow in front of you as he thrust back in. You gasped out a high pitched moan and small, repeated sounds of pleasure came out of your mouth as you felt his long shaft pit up against your g-spot with every thrust.

“There she is, yesss. You’re so fucking tight when I take you like this, baby. Your pussy is gripping me like a vice, goddamn.” Ari groaned louder as your warmth enveloped him. Tension started brewing again deep inside your belly as he thrust faster into you.

Leaning down, his chest was damp and his hair grazed your smooth skin as it met your back. He lifted you slightly to wrap his right hand around your neck and squeezed. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine. This pussy is mine, your body. I’ll always protect you, you hear me, love?”

Gripping onto the pillow in front of you fiercely, you couldn’t contain your moans that were now resonating in the room. His possessiveness, his fingers gripping your throat so protectively, and the passion in his words made you feel so hot, you felt that coil in your belly about to snap. The sensation pulling at that area inside of you that felt so full and relieving when released. “Ari, yes, I’m yours! You’re gonna make me cum again!”

“Yeah, I am, love. Soak my cock, make a mess with my pussy.” He released the grip on your throat to lean back up and take your hips in his hands for full control. His thrusts were consistently hard and deep. It twisted that coil inside of you so delightfully that you finally snapped and cried out your orgasm.

Ari’s thrusts became sloppier as your juices squirted around his cock. He bellowed out a deep and low groan from his strained throat and followed you as you rode out your orgasm against him. You moan at the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you and feeling him cum so deep in your pussy made you feel like you were being claimed. His dick was still buried deep inside as you gyrated against him. At the overstimulation, Ari thrust out of you with a sharp hiss and a mixture of your cum with his started to spurt out of you.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby. Here, let me help you.” He breathed out heavily while his hand left your hip to use his finger to push your combined cum back into your quivering pussy. You moaned out at the sensation of his thick finger thrusting his warm spend further into you and mewled in content.

Ari kneaded and squeezed your ass one last time before attempting to get off the bed to get a towel to clean you up but you clutched his hand before he could fully leave and pleaded, “Wait baby, stay. Can you just…hold me, please?”

He picked up the hand that you were holding to kiss the back of yours softly and collapsed on the bed next to you as you leaned into his outstretched arms. Cuddling him as your head rested over his chest, you felt him graze his fingers soothingly on your arm. You both were satiated in your passionate release, and after the day that you had, you both were starting to feel the effects of it.

Embracing you in his arms, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin felt like heaven against him. Before his sleepy eyes shut completely, you gave him a gentle tap above his heart to get his attention one last time. He peered down at you and gave you a relaxed grin. With his familiar grunt, his eyes questioned your touch.

You gazed into his blue eyes that were filled with such affection, the same glint that you saw earlier at the bar. A familiar burning in your eyes started to come on at his stare, but you blinked them away to smile back fondly at him.

“I love you too, Ari.”

A/N: Welp! We made it -- I'm hoping ya'll enjoyed Ari and reader on this one. Something about Lumberjack!Ari being protective and only having eyes for you makes me feral and that can be the only explanation as to why this is so long lol. I would love to know what ya'll thought! Speak soon, lads~

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lovelettersforthedamned · 8 months

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ugh I love the way you write frat Peter <3333 am thinking of how he would react when his frat brothers flirt with his girl jus to rile him up - ❄️❄️

A Little Reminder

--genre: fluff, slight smut, MINORS DNI.

--pairing: frat!tasm!peter parker x f!reader

--word count: 1.4k

--warnings: language, kisses, slight smut, mention of hickeys, fluff!!!

love this request! i have something similar (more angsty) if you want more, "Let Me Be There, Let Me Be Yours".

You were drained, to say the least. Your last lecture wiped you out, followed by a tutoring session to bring up your plummeting English Literature grade. Peter’s the one to blame for that one. Sure, you scheduled an early morning class knowing that it would be hard to get there, but Peter keeping you hostage in bed also didn’t help.

As you walk back to your apartment, you’re mentally cursing him knowing that you’ll realistically not do anything about it. With your headphones blocking out the world around you, your only goal was to get home and to Peter. Your bed calls out for you.

Switching songs, an arm is suddenly wrapped around your shoulders, making you jump out of your skin. Pulling off one side of your headphones, you look towards the person whose arm is around you, finding one of Peter’s frat brothers grinning widely at you. You barely have time to deal with whatever is going on, but still decide to play along not to seem rude, “Bryce, what the fuck is going on?”

“Oh nothing,” he replied nonchalantly, his arm still on your shoulders, “ just walking you home, that’s all.” His tone still holds one of a joke, but now that you’re approaching your apartment he still doesn’t give up.

You can’t help but laugh and scoff, you wonder how long he’ll keep this up. Ducking out of his hold, you stand in front of him, “I didn’t ask you to do that, but thank you so much for your generosity, Bryce. Your heart must be so so big!” You bring a hand up to his shoulder and pat it a few times, “I’ll make sure to tell Pete about this. Just to let him know how caring you are.”

“You do that, (Y/N)! I cannot wait to hear back from him,” his smile is wide still, but sarcasm drips off of his tongue.

You start to walk up the stairs to your building, waving Bryce goodbye as you giggle to yourself. He’s going to get an earful the next time he sees Peter.

****

“Hi, Pete! I’m home,” you call out as you close and lock the door behind you. It doesn’t take long before you hear heavy footsteps approach you from the bedroom, Peter’s disheveled state greeting you. He’s shirtless, his boxers the only thing on his body, but you’re not complaining. Peter’s even wearing his glasses, which is a rarity recently. You’ve noticed he only wears them around you.

As he approaches you, he takes your school bag and your headphones, placing them on the couch before he envelopes you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathe in his scent, the natural musk combined with his body wash makes you melt. Your ear is placed directly on his heart, the rhythmic beat acting as a lullaby. You look up at him again, craving to see him in his glasses again to see that he’s already looking at you. You stand on your toes to reach his lips, catching him off guard in a kiss that he quickly gets accustomed to. His lips are slightly chapped.

Pulling away he sighs, giving your lips one more quick peck, “How was class, bug?” Brushing a piece of hair that fell into your eyes away, he holds the side of your face.

“It was long and boring,” you close your eyes, the mere thought of it reeling in another wave of exhaustion, “but guess who I ran into on the way home?” You pull away from his hold to walk over to the kitchen, Peter following loosely behind you. There are a few beats of silence as he goes through the list of who it could be, but he soon gives up with a sigh. “Bryce fucking Quinn,” you reveal.

He leans against the cabinet as you reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, his eyes widening, “I haven’t seen him in a while. How is he?”

“He’s good,” you open the cap and take a sip, before dropping the bomb on him, “he’s very nice.”

This sparks Peter’s interest, his head cocking to the side as his brows furrowed in confusion, “Oh really?” Your impression of him shocks him. He knows Bryce Quinn to be a jokester, he’s never taken anything seriously, and if he did, it was always because it was part of a running bit that he carried.

You smirk as you take another sip, trying not to reveal how amused you are, “Yeah, he even walked me home! He even threw his arm over me to make sure I got here safe.” You leave Peter to go into the bathroom, the sudden urge to pee coming over you.

Peter’s once relaxed demeanor was now one of rigid shock, he once again followed you. “What do you mean ‘threw his arm over you’?” You’re sitting on the toilet when Peter opens the door and stands directly in front of you, looking for answers.

“You need me to answer that right now?”

“Well,” he doesn’t see anything wrong with asking right now, “when else am I gonna ask you?” He’s dead serious too.

Reaching for the toilet paper, you gather a few pieces, “Maybe when I’m not actively on the toilet?”

He finally comes to his senses as he turns around, facing the wall, and leaving you to do your business. “It’s not like I haven’t seen every part of you before,” he adds, before turning back around when he hears the toilet flush and the sink run as you wash your hands.

Washing your hands, you look into the mirror only to see Peter behind you, giving you a scare. “If you’re really worried about this babe, you know you shouldn’t,” you dry your hands off on the towel next to the sink. Turning around to face your worried and slightly angry boyfriend, you reach up to hold his face, his head slightly flinching away from your cold hands, you giggle, “Shit, sorry!”

Pulling down his face, you kiss his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands find their home on your waist. The kiss slowly gets needier, causing Peter’s hands to lower down to under your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter, his arms caging you in as he places both of his hands on either side of your head. Your fingers are weaving themselves in his hair, slightly tugging on it, causing a soft moan to escape his lips. You pull away, his lips chasing yours as you back away. “Peter,” you whine.

He’s not listening, his only objective was connecting your lips again. He’s panting as he responds, his voice breathy, “Yeah, baby?” You can’t help but smirk at his current state. It seems like he forgot all about your previous conversation.

As you tilt your head back and forth to look into his eyes, he follows. His lips are desperate for your touch, and it shows. You grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Don’t be too hard on Bryce when you see him next.”

Peter groans as he tilts his head back away from your touch, a breathy chuckle leaving him, “Why are we still talking about Bryce when I’m so close to taking you back to bed?”

You blush at his response, “I’m just saying…I don’t need to be the damsel in distress when it comes to you, Petey.” Peter brings his hands down to scoop under your thighs once again, pulling you up to his chest, making you wrap both your arms and legs around him to not fall, a big smile on your face.

“Oh, bug,” he starts to walk to your bedroom, “you’re never the damsel in distress. But sometimes they need a little reminder that you aren’t theirs to play with, are you?” You shake your head in response, the heat in your cheeks starting to pool lower on your body. “And sometimes they forget that,” he places you gently on the bed.

Peter can’t help but admire you as you lay in front of him. Pulling off his glasses and tossing them to the side, he kneels on the bed to kiss you again, leaving a few marks on your neck to serve as a physical reminder to those around you. Bryce is so fucked.

--author's note: I LOVE FRAT!PETER AND I'M SO HAPPY YOU LOVE HIM TOO ❄️ ANON!!!!!! this got a little spicy at the end and i'm so sorry i have no idea what happened LMAOO. don't forget to like, comment, and reblog. my 300 follower celebration is happening now, so don't forget to send things in!! rules are pinned to my blog!!! ok, ily bye <333

#tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker #fluff #marvel #andrew garfield peter parker #tasm!peter parker #spiderman #college au #frat!peter parker x f!reader #frat!peter parker #frat!peter #tasm!peter parker smut #frat!peter smut

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Text

³.⍭ 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 (𝟐/𝟐)

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | ghostface!ex-boyfriend!Ari Levinson x airhead/dumb!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | soft DARK/DARK!Ari, obsessed/controlling!Ari, possessive/obsessive behaviour, manipulation, blood, murder (not in detail), side character(s) death (it had to be done). implied: stalking. dumb!reader, size difference: 6’10!Ari, condescending!Ari, DD/LG undertones, manhandling, alcohol, weed (edibles). SMUT - minors DNI, fingering (f), non-con/dub-con: aphrodisiacs & stealthing, unprotected sex (p in v), daddy kink, choking, p*ssy spanking, mating press, dirty talk, rough sex, spit kink, dacryphilia, degradation, heavy dumbification, size kink, breeding kink, squirting, creampie.

𝗪/𝗖 | 9.71K

𝗔/𝗡 | thank you everyone for being patient with me, we all know pacing is my enemy and I can’t write anything short ever. mean daddy!ari makes an appearance here, so do a few of his fellow frat bros. As always, all mistakes are my own and i hope you all enjoy !!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐈 𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Am I stupid?”

“Huh?”

“My friends say I’m not the sharpest… that’s why Ari treated me that way.”

Bryce opens his mouth to answer, but quickly rethinks his blunt: “yes, you are.”

In a way, your friends were right. It was rare for you to be out of that dreamland of yours. You were a little stupid—okay, maybe a lot stupid, but that surely wasn’t a bad thing. Everyone knew about Ari’s domineering attitude, and how he babied you and treated you like his property.

Bryce is only frustrated because he didn’t get to you first. Now that you’re single, free from your overbearing six-foot-ten ex-boyfriend, he can take his chance.

“I think you have a particular way of figuring things out, but that isn’t bad. It’s just you.” He gently pinches your cheek, and you smile shyly, “There’s nothing wrong with that, sweetheart. Nothing at all.”

Through the eye mesh, Ari watches you giggle and sip from the new solo cup. You’re practically snuggled into Langley’s arms, giving him that dumb-spaced-out look as you listen to whatever shit he has to say. His fist tightens around the aluminum handle when Bryce’s fingers trace up your cheek, drifting to your shiny forehead.

“You’re burning up.” He can barely read his lips through the dim red lights.

You blink slowly and nod before your head falls back. A hot feeling builds in his stomach, either rage or desire, as your thighs clench and you subtly rock against the couch. The hem of your dress rides up your flesh, exposing the delicate white nylon begging to be torn—sliced to shreds.

It was a shame, you being so woefully ignorant to leave your drink unattended while you and Bryce danced and mingled. You were lucky Ari was there to watch it—and slip in some crushed pills. A part of him was disappointed that when you returned and drank it all, not thinking about the creeps who would take advantage of you.

Better him than anyone else.

That’s what he found sickeningly comforting until Bryce brought you some more brownies directly after and shoved them into your pretty mouth. Anyone could smell the desperation radiating off of your body, and judging by the way Bryce was licking his lips, he was seconds away from devouring you on the damn couch in front of everyone.

If only Bryce knew that you wouldn’t need anything else after those pills. The brownie was overkill, but Ari did love it when you were just a needy, whiny, dumb whore.

Despite being dumped over text, Ari couldn’t escape you. You were plastered on his bedroom walls, from framed pictures to love letters you’ve written him—with all your spelling and grammar errors. Your scent was ingrained in his pillows and sheets, regardless of how many times he’s washed them. Dashes of pastel and lace were in every drawer and cranny, from your flimsy panties to itty bitty skirts that always showed your ass.

You haven’t asked for any of your belongings back, and he wouldn’t tell you what he’s done with your favourite lacy underwear. He wants you to wear them without a clue that they’ve been covered in his seed while he rewatched the tape of you in one of your tiny cotton shorts, the crotch pulled to the side as he fucked your ass for the first time.

He bets Bryce had no clue you were an anal slut.

Over the booming bass and loud chatter, Ari can almost hear Bryce’s revolting thoughts—your friend has waited too long for this golden opportunity and it’s fucking soaked and needy, only inches away from him.

Moments drag on and Bryce stands to leave, telling you to wait while he gets you cold water. Ari watches him waltz into the kitchen and check the fridge but comes up empty. On the way out, he swipes a brownie and goes to the garage.

Ari follows after him, being masked and unrecognizable, he’s able to blend in with the bustling mob. He lingers around corners and spots the strobe lights don’t hit, the pitch-black robe morphs him into just another tall impending shadow. With a casual pace, his eyes remain locked on the younger man drunkenly humming to himself as he stumbles through the halls that were getting less crowded.

He was making this far too easy.

A loud crash sounds through the empty hallway, bouncing off the panelled walls and expensive paintings.

“Aw shit.” Bryce curses and crouches to assess the damage, the china is scattered across the carpet, bits and pieces of the priceless artifact owned by the spoiled brat and party host. “Fucking shit.”

He looks up at the hooded, looming figure by the door clad in a dark robe with tattered sleeves. A stark white mask contrasts with the black eyes, nose, and dramatically wide-opened mouth—as if it were screaming or crying.

“Hey, uh, don’t tell Ransom about that. I still owe him for the other vase I broke.” He tries to laugh off the nerves. He makes quick work of covering his ass and kicks the shards under the couch. “God knows he’ll never let me over again if he knew it was me.”

Ari locks the door after him, slowly slipping off his mask because he’d rather have his face be the last thing the shithead sees.

“I don’t think he’ll care.”

Bryce’s frame stiffens and he stares forward at the window, instantly making out the long hair and pale skin. Even a few feet behind, Ari is still strikingly bigger than him.

“He’s a good friend of mine, we both see things like that as disposable.” Ari steps forward, crushing the ceramic fragments under his heavy boots, “albeit, it would be impossible to replace the original. Nothing could amount to the first, it could look the same, feel the same—but if given the choice, only a fool would choose the fake.”

“What a drawn-out way to say you’re jealous.” He quirks a brow, “I knew you’d be an obsessed freak, just let her go, man. She’s about to get something—someone who’s actually good for her.”

“She doesn’t know a damn thing, much less what’s good for her.”

The other man glowers, “does she know you talk about her like that?”

“Does she know you’re a pervert who’s taken pictures up her skirt?”

Bryce’s skin goes pale, all colour draining from his cheeks until the only noticeable hue is his blue eyes. He doesn’t move or even twitch, hoping the lack of movement would make him magically disappear.

“You’ve got pictures of my girl’s cunt.” Ari could rip him to shreds and not break a sweat. “And you’re calling me the freak?” Another step closer and more delicate shards crack under his weight. “A sicko like you must get off to that, huh? I wonder what the dean would think of that, you’re already on thin ice after that changing room incident. Fucking pervert.”

The younger man clenches his fists and grits his teeth but he doesn’t speak.

“You aren’t going to ask how I found out?” Ari tilts his head, waiting for a response but he gets nothing but long, ragged breaths. “My friend is fucking the dean’s secretary and she’s got loose lips,” He smirks and chuckles lowly, “in more ways than one.”

In terror, his gaze darts towards the back door between two towering bookshelves. The various lamposts surrounding the property call to him like a beacon, so close yet so far with the menacing shadow only mere feet away.

Do it. Ari has always loved a chase.

In a split second, Bryce takes off, bursting through the door with a leap and racing across the lawn.

Ari cracks his neck and slips on the mask again, his hood following suit. Under his robe, he grasps the cold handle of the knife and follows after him. His heavy footsteps halt when he grabs a sharp fragment of the shattered vase—options, options, which will he choose?

With the taste of revenge on his tongue, he contemplates. One will do the dirty work for you and the other will for himself, his pride and sanity. He couldn’t care less about those other victims when you were so disgustingly violated multiple times, and tonight could have been the worst of all. The difference between Bryce and him is that he’d do all those sick things to you because he loves you so much, and this fucking coward just wants to get his dick wet.

Ari picks up speed, easily following after the drunk, horrified man. They both disappear into the abyss of the night, deeper into the woods of the secluded property. One of them unknowingly races closer to inescapable doom.

A hand cradles your cheek, the touch was so comforting and familiar that you automatically lean into it.

“There you are, bunny.” A drawl pulls you from the shadows, “There’s my girl, are you okay?”

If that voice had a taste, it’d be warm caramel on a vanilla sundae, with rainbow sprinkles and a candied cherry on top.

When you come to, still heavy and disorientated, your blurry ex-boyfriend is knelt by your side. “Ari? Wh-What happened?” You’re sprawled on a bed like a ragdoll. Your legs are spread wide with one hanging off of the edge and the hem of your dress barely conceals your modesty.

The brunette hasn’t stopped caressing your cheek, his gentle motions a stark contrast to the darkness in his eyes, “Bryce slipped something into your drink.” He answers calmly as the aching in your head builds to a pounding.

It takes a few seconds for you to process his words. “N-No… He wouldn’t—he’d never.” Your heart sinks.

“He did. He told me himself before he got into his car and drove off.” Ari explains, “I guess he got scared when you passed out and decided to just leave you here. You’re lucky Steve found you and called me.”

Distraught and sick to your stomach, you try to stand but collapse back onto the mattress, your legs too weak and unstable to support your weight. “Feeling—ugh.”

Ari sweeps you into his arms, “Hey now, take it easy or you’ll hurt yourself. Deep breaths, you’re getting overwhelmed.” He cradles you like a princess, his little damsel in distress.

“My basket…”

Ari chuckles, even at a moment like this, your priorities haven’t changed. “I’ll find it later, baby. Just gotta calm you down right now.”

You almost cry at that. Whether it was the alcohol or the drugs, you feel as exposed and vulnerable as a wilting flower. Like a strong breeze could knock you over, you’re helpless to everything—the loud music, the bright lights and the many guests downstairs.

You feel small.

Tucking yourself into the crook of Ari’s shoulder, you inhale his cologne. The warm musk of cypress and cedarwood seeps into your senses, followed by the gentle undertones of patchouli. You dig your nose deeper, determined to soak up as much as you can before he goes away again—you missed him so much.

Your unfocused eyes dart around the bedroom, from the cream walls and dark furniture. The soft, expensive duvet is wrinkled from your weight and your heels lie forgotten on the floor. Slowly but surely, the lights and pounding become bearable, and you can finally hear yourself think.

Would Bryce do that to you?

If not, why would Ari say he did?

No, Ari never lied. Lying was deceitful and wrong, and Ari would never do that to you.

It seems too soon when Ari returns you to bed. You begrudgingly abandon your safe place and get a good look at him.

“You’re bleeding!” There were red splatters on his face to his neck, a bit even blending in with his dark beard. You quickly touch your own face and gasp when the same vermillion is on your fingers, “it’s still wet!”

Ari quickly cleans your face, a soft chuckle flowing past his pink lips. “It’s fake, bunny. Just touched up my costume before I found you.”

Your eyes fall to his attire, the black hooded cloth draped over his massive shoulders and mask atop his head, holding back his long hair. You tilt your head.

Ari sighs fondly and pulls down the mask, revealing the eerily expressive big eyes and elongated mouth. As haunting as it was, you couldn’t ever figure out if the expression was upset or terrified.

“Oh! I remember that mask.” You recall all the times he’s scared his friends with it. He messed with you a couple of times too.

“Why are you scared, bunny?” He asked, his voice slightly muffled under the guise, as he pinned you against the wall, “it’s just daddy, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

What followed was a night tangled in his bedsheets, the mask only coming off after you came all over his length twice. Ari wasn’t satisfied until he was soaked with your essence, he’d spend hours breaking you apart, only to put you back together with loving aftercare.

You wonder if any of that has changed now—if he’s changed since then.

He goes towards the ensuite and switches on the tap. He wipes his face with his sleeve, cleaning away the red.

“You don’t have to take it off.” You hesitate. It was awkward to see him again, he was so nonchalant about it too. “The fake blood is a part of your costume. And you’ll need it if you leave.”

He snorts. “If I was leaving, I wouldn’t care. It makes you uneasy.” He meets your gaze through the reflection, “You never liked scary movies anyway.”

"Bunny, nothing is happening."

"I don't care!" You squeal, shaking in his arms with your face buried in his neck. Your eyes are squeezed shut and if you could, you'd cover your ears too but you refuse to part with your big, protective boyfriend. He was your unofficial bodyguard! "P-Please, turn it off! It's too scary!"

"You said you wanted to do something fun." Ari rubs your back under your shirt, gently dragging his nails down your spine. "Isn't this fun?"

"Not fun at all." You huff in frustration and fear, trying to ignore the creepy music flowing from the speakers, it paints the entire living room eerie and deeply unsettling. "Ari, please!"

"Stop being such a baby." He scolds, spanking your ass. "It isn't even gory."

You pull away with a pout, "not a baby..."

A slow, sinister smile crawls onto his lips. "No? Why are you crying like one then?"

"You're bein' mean..." You move to climb off his lap but he locks his built, firm arms around your waist. "I don't like it."

He ignores you and swoops forward, kissing from your forehead to your wet cheeks, across your nose and finally your lips. He makes obnoxious puckering noises, nibbling on your warm skin until your teary-eyed sulk faded into a sweet, giggly glow.

It never takes much to distract dumb little you.

"How about we get your mind off it, huh?"

"Are we gonna go upstairs?" You ask cluelessly as he lays you on the couch, bracing himself above you. "You said you'd help me with my math homework?"

"I know, baby, I know." Ari sighs softly, lowering his hips between your spread thighs. "You still don't understand? I just tutored you last week."

"I-I tried, but it's still too hard!" You sputtered, "I promise I did all the steps you put on the checklist, but I just—I can't, daddy."

He coos, "Don't worry, bunny. I'll dumb it down for you again."

Your eyes flutter shut when his hard length rubs against your core, and only then do you notice the sticky mess. You squirm, embarrassment flooding your body.

"You're so wet, baby, how long have your panties been soaked?" He asks, kissing from your jaw to your neck, his thick beard tickles your skin.

You moan quietly, "I d-don't know, daddy."

"Pfft, what do you know, ya little dummy." His voice lowers as he rocks subtly into you, his muscles flexing under his weight, "Just let me feel you, yeah? You've been grinding on me all fuckin' day."

You lazily blink up at the ceiling and don’t realize your hand is drifting between your thighs until his voice rings out, “how are you feeling?”

“Uhm—hot.” You immediately retreat and kick your legs in hopes of cooling down. “Like really hot, is that bad?”

He enters the bedroom again, clean and devilishly handsome, “Yeah, I think the drug is still active, it might get worse before it gets better. Did you have Jensen’s brownies too?”

“Oh… only a few. Should I go,” an odd tingling sensation flutters through your body as you sit up, you feel lightheaded, “to the hospital?”

“You could.” Ari considers, his blue eyes trailing from your crooked bunny ears to your pout, “But what if they ask what happened to you? You’ll have to tell them what he did.”

A dreadful weight fills your chest, sinking you deeper into the plush mattress. “...but he’s my friend.”

Ari clenches his jaw, “but lying is bad. Do you want to lie to all those people who are trying to help you? Do you want him to do that to someone else? Because I can guarantee he will if you don’t tell the truth.” He chides with a deep voice, “You know he used to snap pictures up your skirt? The drunk bastard showed me everything on his phone, the entire photo album of your cunt, like you were some cheap slut.”

Your heart shatters, cracking down the middle and bleeding on your trembling hands. The colour absorbs all light, abandoning you in nothingness and leaks onto your pretty dress, tainting you like a white dove in viscous oil.

No, no, no.

“Think about all of the people you’re putting in danger just because he’s your friend.”

“He wouldn’t do that to me.”

Ari cocks his head, “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No! I just—” you heave, blinking profusely, “he’s my friend. He’s nice to me… or was. I don’t know!”

“You should know by now that you aren’t the best at choosing friends.” Look at what they did to us.

You sniffle, wishing to be swallowed whole. Ari was right, your judgement was severely lacking and more often than not, it led you to a road of pain and loneliness.

Could it be that you’ve never had good intuition?

But you picked him, didn’t you? No, Ari picked you. He chose you above everyone else, time and time again.

And you let him go.

“I-I’m sorry, but he’s gonna hate me…” Your vision blurs as your eyes water, “I don’t—I don’t want him to hate me. Don’t want a-anyone to hate me.”

You thought Bryce was kind to you, but that was before tonight. It turns out, he was nothing but a creepy pervert. He violated you and acted like your friend. And stupidly naive little you didn’t notice a thing.

“You wanted him, didn’t you?” Ari crosses his arms. “You wore all those fuckin’ skirts for him? You wanna be photographed like a dumb whore?”

“Wha—No!”

“You did or you still do.” His expression hardens, a deep wrinkle settling between his dark eyebrows. “And everyone’s going to say it’s your fault too.”

You quickly shake your head, wispy no’s tumble from your mouth. That seemed like the only word you knew.

“Did you let him drug you because you wanted him to touch you? If you did, just admit it now.”

“I didn’t…” Your bottom lip wobbles, shiny tears prickling at your waterline, “Ari, please. I only…I didn’t think.” You choke out, “I only want you. It’s always been you.”

And just like that, the switch flips.

In the blink of an eye, he’s knelt next to you on the bed and is cupping your cheeks in his warm palms, “Hey, hey, no need for the tears. We could stay here until you calm down and can make the decision yourself.”

“Can’t.”

Ari’s chest vibrates with his deep growl. He fights every urge to taste those tears on your pretty cheeks. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t think—don’t wanna.” You blubber helplessly, all too overwhelmed with his accusations. “Don’t make me, please.”

“Oh, poor bunny.” He coos, thumbing your cheekbone dusted with glitter. The sparkles are washed away by your tears and make you look even more divine. “I know. I know you can’t think for yourself. That’s why you had me, right?”

You cry harder, beautifully needy and miserable, just how he liked you to be.

“Had me make all the choices for you, do all the thinking and all the work.” He hungrily licks his lips, watching the droplets seep into the corners of your mouth. “Because daddy always knows best. Ain’t that right, bunny?”

“Missed you, daddy.” You manage through hiccups and weakly clamber into his lap. You nuzzle his chest, holding one of his hands to your cheek to ground yourself.

Every part of Ari was your haven. Whenever you sought comfort, you found yourself in his presence, grasping for any piece of him you could reach and holding on with all your might. There wasn’t an instance when he didn’t provide that sweet security, especially now when your head is so muddled and lost.

If only you knew what those very hands did an hour ago.

“Daddy missed you too, princess.” Ari murmurs, massaging the back of your neck and feeling the tense muscles under your skin, “But you broke up with me, remember?”

“Didn’t wanna! My friends—they made me feel dumb for letting you treat me that way.”

“And, where are they now?”

You shrug, “Dunno, they left me a while ago.”

It’s terribly sad that you don’t know they’re already dealt with and their miserable lives were put to an end at the hands of three masked men. They were gone before he even touched Bryce.

All of them are burnt to a crisp, their bruised and battered bodies utterly unidentifiable. You’ll ask about them soon and he’ll play the concerned boyfriend as always, then return the next day to get rid of the remains.

Sometimes it feels like clockwork, except this time, he had the help of two close friends.

He wonders if you remember that stranger who kept you company when he was late for your cafe date one day. Tired and sweaty from practice, Ari waltzed in to find you in a friendly conversation with the other man. Laughing and chatting like you’ve known each other for years.

Lucky for him, the stranger was just another drifter. No family, no home, no friends—except for you, of course. Shortlived that friendship was.

It takes you a while to calm down but Ari never leaves your side. He rubs your back and hums softly, letting you soak his clothes with your tears. He’s painfully missed holding you like this, feeling the little trembles of your body against his and hearing each stuttering word fall from your lips.

You used to cry to him for everything. A late assignment or a failed test—tears, or the store ran out of your favourite comfort snacks—even more tears, perhaps the most you’ve ever cried was when you thought you lost Hazel, the stuffie he gave you.

What’s even more upsetting is when he found it in your friend’s dorm, along with the rest of his gifts to you.

Good riddance, your friends deserve everything that came to them. He hopes they burn in hell.

Eventually, he leaves to get some water for you. He wears his mask while passing through the still ongoing party, dodging drunk students as they screamed to whatever song was blasting through the speakers.

He retrieves a water bottle and some snacks before heading back to the bedroom. Upon reaching the second floor, he flips up the mask and spots a tall figure clad in brown, baggy clothes and leaning against the wall.

“How is she?”

“She’s still a bit shaken. I’m taking her back to the house later so she can sleep it off.”

Steve nods, fixing the worn, burlap mask atop his head. “Okay, do you want me to stay for some extra help? You walked here after all.”

“No, I’ll just call a taxi.” Ari slaps his shoulder, taking out the single key to unlock the door. He couldn’t let you get away as soon as he got you back. “You should head back home before some cheerleader rats you out to coach again.”

Aside from the obvious, their disguises are also because the coach had annoying rules that forbid partying before a big game. It wouldn’t be the first time they were scolded after someone reported them.

Mr. Nice Guy Steve had arrived at the party earlier and kept tabs on you like any good friend. He called Ari right away when you were getting close to Bryce. Unfortunately, sweet as he was, Steve was just like you. Dumb and dim, and painstakingly benign. He failed to notice Ari was already there, and so were Curtis and Bucky. All of them masked and with dark intentions.

It wasn’t like them to leave him out of things, but tonight it was vital he remained unaware.

“I hope she gets better soon. Bryce is a fucking asshole for doing that.” The solemn expression on Steve’s face transforms into determination, “You know I’ll always have your back.”

“I know.” Ari smiles, and a tinge of something more lurks in his eyes. “You’re my best guy, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I think you’ll be my best man too someday.”

The blond laughs and walks towards the stairs, his brown velvet suit complements the vintage-style decor. “Someday as in a few months?”

“Less than a few if I get lucky.”

Steve pulls the burlap mask down, concealing his features but Ari knows he’s wearing a crooked grin. “I don’t think you need luck. She needs you, I know it.”

Ari knows it too.

Beyond the door, you’re still sweating up a storm with your hand tucked between your legs, desperately rubbing yourself over your tights. The door opens and you hurriedly hide your wet fingers under the bed sheet, blinking up at the intruder with wide eyes.

“You okay, bunny?”

“Y-Yes, uh, are you?” Your chest rises and falls unsteadily.

He nods, his gaze drifting over your sweaty skin and hard nipples. “They left with some guys just now.”

“...Without me?”

Ari shuts and locks the door behind him. A deep frown plays on his lips, “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t have a chance to tell them about you, I just saw them drive off.”

As expected, tears well up in your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Poor little you, your delicate soul probably couldn’t take anymore.

He sits next to you and wraps you in his arms, “I’m so sorry. It isn’t right of them to treat you this way. Like you’re garbage on the side of the road.”

While that was true and they were hypocrites for saying how badly Ari was treating you only to treat you even worse, that wasn’t why you were crying.

“They don’t deserve you, bunny, much less your pretty tears.”

“N-Not crying ‘cause of that.” You whine against his neck.

“Why then?” He asks although he already knows the answer.

You don’t speak and shamefully open your legs, refusing to meet his eyes. The fur of your dress rides up, revealing a soaked patch of your panties through the white nylon, and the wet spot on the bedsheet. “H-Help me, please?”

Every inhale brings your scent deep into his senses, snipping the final threads of self-control. “I don’t know, bunny. It isn’t right.”

“But I want you! I never wanted to break up, never wanted to leave you…” You sniffle, bringing his hand to your core. His long, thick fingers barely brush your tights, but having him this close is enough to send shivers down your spine. “My friends pressured me—and I still want you. Need you, daddy.”

He groans, letting you helplessly grind against his hand. “Yeah, baby? You want me to take care of you?” That glazed look in your eyes almost brings him to his knees. “I’ll help you, but on one condition.”

It was remarkable how you got this far while being so dim.

“Knew you’d like this. My bunny hates scary movies but gets soaked even when I’m wearing this—” In a daze, you stare at the black eyes, getting lost in the endlessness. The hand around your throat tightens, “There’s my little dummy—you get your tits touched and lose your fuckin’ mind.”

You should be scared or at least on edge with him mounted above you, broad shoulders blocking any source of light. His skin is already covered in your nail marks, from his neck to his lower stomach, just above the band of his jeans.

He massages your breast and pinches your nipple, “Are you gonna say something or just cry like a baby?” He tilts his head, dark shadows enhancing the ghostly expression of his mask.

You cup his monstrous bulge, tears leaking down your face. “Want you in my mouth, daddy.”

He grips your chin, digging his fingers into your cheeks until your lips pucker. “You want daddy’s cock or balls, bunny?”

“Ya kno’wha’….”

He smirks, his hand releases your tit and his rough fingers trail down your clothed slit, “I want you to say it. I know this mouth is more than just one of my holes.”

“Daw-dy,” You exhale shakily, “please, c-can I—ah!” You squeal when he rips a hole in the crotch of your tights, but he doesn’t go any further. His touch lingers on your inner thighs, inches away from your sticky, smeared arousal. “Will you—”

He shakes your head, making you squeak, “Spit it out, dummy.”

You weep, your jaw is getting sore from his harsh hold but you’d be lying if you said you hated it. “Let me suck on your balls, please. Need to taste them. Need them in my mouth, on my face—everywhere, daddy.”

He lifts the mask and hums thoughtfully as if he were pondering a philosophical question. With every slow blink, his eyes get a shade darker and darker, soon becoming a colour you’ve never seen before. A twinge of panic blooms in your stomach, and for a moment, you’re scared of him, of what he could do with you in this vulnerable position, in a full frat party where no one could hear you scream.

But he grins, his pink lips stretched in the sweetest smile that blossoms uncertainty into mindless hope.

Then, it’s all crushed. “No.”

“But—”

“I said to ask. I never promised I’d let you.” The mask covers his face again, but you know he’s still beaming. “You did dump me, don’t you remember? Or is your dumb baby brain too stupid right now?”

“I remember…”

“Yeah, should make you read that fuckin’ text right now.” His fingers press against your slit, immediately seeking your little button. He doesn’t give you a moment to breathe before he’s rubbing the bundle with his thumb and pinning your hips down. “But judging by your face, I think my bunny is too dumb to read.”

“I can.” You force your eyes open, toes curling in pleasure. “I can, daddy. I-I can do it.”

“Do you think your little head can handle reading right now?” Ari quizzes slowly. If he weren’t immensely enjoying this, he’d pity you. “Poor baby, you just wanna me proud.” He ridicules, drawing out the last word as his voice goes high. “Stupid bunny just wants praise, how adorable.”

Someone hurt you badly, and a sick part of him wants to thank them for making you into the perfect little airhead for him.

He adds pressure as you weakly thrust upward. His other digits join too, fucking your tightness through your soaked panties as you moan quietly. A few slaps land on your cunt, and sopping noises fill the room over the bass. You’re a disgustingly creamy mess—and the weed brownies were such a glorious overkill.

You whimper, fruitlessly trying to remove the mask. “Off, daddy. Wanna kiss you, pretty please. Missed you so bad, need—” He slaps your pussy harder, “—need you.”

Oh, how could he deny you when you asked so nicely?

He rips the mask off and dips down, capturing your bitten lips. His tongue slides against yours as he groans heavily, “If you keep begging like that, you’re gonna regret it.”

“Pl—Please ruin me.” You ached for him. Every part of your mind, body and soul burned for any sliver of him but at the same time, you were overwhelmed by the slightest graze of his fingertips.

You blame the drug Bryce slipped in your drink.

“I’ll do a lot worse, and never let you leave me again.” He murmurs into your mouth, his facial hair rubbing against your tear-stained cheeks. Then, he stands to undress you entirely. Your dress and leg warmers fall to the floor, along with your torn tights and messy panties. He fixes your bunny ears before stripping off his pants, and soon enough, he’s standing fully nude. You don’t know if it was your time apart, but he looks bigger and stronger.

His skin stretched around his rippling muscles and coarse, dark hair mapped out all of your favourite spots. From his beefy chest and his tummy to the fat base of his throbbing length, and finally, his thick powerful thighs.

Wait, the tiniest voice in your head pleads as he slowly rolls down the condom. With the latex snug, he leers at you and jerks his cock slowly, his fingers meeting around the girth. You watch as the angry red head immediately fills the tip with pre-cum and your core throbs, awakening a hunger inside of you.

He kneels on the bed, “What’s wrong?”

“No–Nothin’...” You gulp and surge forward. “Need you, daddy. So bad.” You mutter against his lips, sucking his tongue messily. Saliva is exchanged and smears down your chin, following in the trails of drool and tears. Your makeup is beyond salvation but he thinks you’ve never looked more angelic.

Ari lies on his back and pulls you on his lap, your creamy folds enveloping his length. He rubs up and down your sides. “You know what to do, bunny.”

You obediently nod and rock against his cock, pouting at the latex barrier. You quickly shake that thought from your head, you’ve never had unprotected sex and you won’t start now.

You focus on rolling your hips, rubbing your swollen button against him as he slides along your soppy folds. The mushroom head pokes out every time you thrust back and his sack brushes your opening, getting covered in your arousal.

When your cream covers him from base to tip—and his firm lower stomach too which surprised you because you’ve never gotten that messy before—you lift onto your knees and gently grab him. He’s hot and heavy in your hand, still too thick for your fingers to wrap around his width. You angle yourself and his tip circles your hole, catching on it before popping back out.

“Deep breath, bunny. Open up for me.” He coos softly, holding back from pulling you onto his cock and fucking you stupid.

You dumbly nod, biting your lip as you sink down again. The fat head breaches this time, feeding your needy hole. You slowly start bouncing, bracing yourself on his beefy chest and fucking yourself on his tip. Overstimulation prickles but you force yourself to ignore it.

“Take more, baby, you can do it. Stretch your little pussy for me. All the way down.” His deep growl contrasts with your high-pitched gasp. “Don’t you wanna feel me in your tummy?” He’s missed that initial resistance of your tightness, the way your hole would struggle to take him as if he hadn’t fucked you with his dick and a few fingers before.

Taking a deep breath, you sink further. A choked whimper escapes from behind your clenched teeth when he slides deeper. His protruding veins drag along your pulsating walls until his balls are flush against your ass. All air is shoved from your body, making room for his dick.

Ari groans, losing himself in your heat, “There’s my good girl. Daddy’s so fuckin’ deep, yeah? That’s why you’re crying like a little baby?”

“T-Too big, da—ddy.” You gasp, thighs tensing at his sides. Little exhales shake your frame, that drug wasn’t holding back.

You can’t ride him, not in this state of mind and he knows that. So, he helps you out. His fingers dig into your flesh, moving you back and forth on his cock. The bulbous tip hits your special spot insistently, and your clit grinds against his pubic bone, the dark tufts of hair sending tingles through your body.

“Look at that fuckin’ mess. Leaking all over me, that little fuckhole must’ve missed me, huh?” His eyes bounce between your face and the stickiness covering his skin, all coming from your weepy core. “Missed me so badly you can’t even think right now. Cockdrunk little bunny.”

You want to do more, but you don’t know what.

It’s a good thing Ari knows, he knows you better than you know yourself. He knows that your head is all jumbled right now and nothing makes sense. He also knows that you want to feel his warmth skin-to-skin, the weight of his bare cock against your throbbing walls.

You don’t know it, but you want it. You’ve always wanted it, and that’s why he’s broken or taken off the condom every other time you’ve had sex. This was no different, besides the hints blood still on his neck and arms, and the missing necklace from your throat. The same one that one of your stupid friends delivered to the frat house, along with a note scribbled in blue ink: ‘don’t contact her ever again.’

As if they ever knew what was good for you—as if they could protect you as he has.

Seeing your collarbones rid of any sign of him, he yanks you down by the back of your head, locking you close with his hand around your throat. “Speak up, dumb bunny. You’ve got a mouth for a reason, tell daddy what you want.”

“But, uh! I-I don’t know!” You lift off of him, tears streaming down your cheeks as you grind against his cock. Your slick smears to his abs and down to his balls, making a whole damn mess of his lap and the sheets underneath.

“Put me back in.”

You shake your head, a burning sensation zips through your system, “C-Can’t—don’t know what’s happening—daddy.” If you weren’t so gone, you’d be embarrassed about the rush of slick pouring from your cunt.

Ari huffs and easily lifts you off of him. Your body flops onto the mattress, the cool sheets soothing the heat momentarily, but the confusion is still high.

Why was this happening?

Bryce. It was Bryce. And this could’ve been with Bryce instead.

While you cry into the pillows, helplessly clenching your thighs, Ari slips off the condom. He crawls behind you, keeping you on your side while slipping his arm under your head and pressing his chest to your sweaty back. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck and he delicately lifts your leg, guiding himself to your hole and thrusting forward in one go.

You moan loudly and convulse, “O-Oh, wait—”

“Hush, sweetie, let daddy take care of you.”

You go slack when he presses balls deep, his heavy sack flush against your soppy hole as his length throbs within your walls. His skin tingles with desire and pride. It’s been too fucking long since he’s felt your bare skin against his.

“How does it feel? Is this better?”

“Mhm, so much better, daddy.” With a stupidly blissful smile, the heat inside you is finally bearable, you don’t know if it’s the position, or maybe you just missed him so much, but this is better than anything you could’ve dreamt of. “What did you do?”

“Nothing you need to know about, bunny.” He rocks slowly, wet noises filling the room over the muffled bass.

He fucks you like that. Pounding you on your side, keeping you firmly against him as he tears your little cunt apart. His tip slams into your spot ruthlessly and he groans and grunts into your ear, whispering filthy things you can’t hear over the rush of blood in your head.

You can hardly breathe with his bicep locked around your throat. Drool drips down your chin as you gasp for air that’s no longer there. Your mind goes blank and sparks dance along the inside of your eyelids, painting a photo of him—your saviour and captor.

“Should’ve never left me, bunny. Could’ve been fucking you like this every day.” He digs his nails into your leg, messily kissing your jaw and you spasm in his hold. He growls when you tighten, milking him, “Fuck, just like that? I haven’t even touched your little button yet.”

You missed him so much that having this intimacy again heightens all of your senses. You can feel him so closely, the dull thump of his heart, his skin brushing against yours and his breath fanning across your neck.

You loved this man with every fiber of your being.

The gentle ghost of his lips against your cheek shatters you.

Your juices spurt out as your legs attempt to shut, but he forces you wide open. Fucking your cunt as you squirt, coating him in the most obscene way. You just lie there, helplessly taking whatever he has to offer, and all of your surroundings mash together, blending into one another.

“I think that’s a new record, bunny.” His voice is muddled. He gives your sensitive pussy a slap, he should’ve done this a long time ago.

Ari manhandles you like a doll, pulling you to the edge of the bed as his feet land on the floor. Your back collides with the bed and you’re immediately bent in half, with your legs on either side of your head and your arms sprawled over the pillows. His massive frame covers you almost completely and you want nothing more than to drag your hands all over his body, to feel him.

Your dazed eyes never leave him, but he knows you’re barely comprehending anything right now. He’d bet you’d let him fuck your ass without prep.

He loves when you look at him like that. Like he made the sun, stars and moon, and he could never do anything to hurt you—like you’d never leave him, but you did anyway.

Rage bubbles in his stomach and he roughly slaps your creamy cunt in quick succession, the sound echoing through the room as you weakly squirt again, this time it’s far less. Electricity burns through your veins, making you cry out and quiver, trying to escape his hard spanks.

He gets tired of your relentless whining and wiggling and finally lowers himself, inserting his bare length into your ruined, weepy pussy. He watches your hole stretch to accommodate his girth, “Look at us.”

You take a second too long to do what he wanted, so he forces your head up and that’s when you see it. He loves the look of surprise on your dumb face.

“A-Ari, what are you—you can’t!”

“Hush, bunny.” He bats away your hands, “I’m gonna come in you, and you’re gonna fuckin’ thank me for it.” He lowers himself, his beefy thighs flexing from the measured, steady motion. He wants to see your reaction when he presses deeper, “And you’re gonna tell me how much you love my cum, got it?”

He rises calmly, allowing you to see your eager cunt suck him in and coat every inch of his length in your cream. You don’t know how long he does that, the seconds feel like hours as he imprints every one of his protruding veins into your inner walls. Every time he drops down, the fat head rams into your sweet spot, shoving a choked gasp from your throat.

You can’t bring yourself to look away, even when he removes his hand. Drool seeps out of the corner of your lips as your gaze locks on his monstrous cock spearing into you at a brutally gentle pace. You shudder when his thighs tense under his hairy skin, lewdly wishing to sink your teeth into the flesh.

He’s so much bigger and stronger than you, in an almost scary way. Just a fucking mountain of meat and muscle, an impenetrable force that could crush you like nothing. You must look comically and pitifully small and lost under him, bent in half with your face covered in spit and tears.

The fat tip slips out with an indecent pop, he’s throbbing and hot, covered in your shared arousal. He rubs the head on your clit, dribbling pre-cum all over your sore button.

Your next words even shock yourself.

“Back inside—please, daddy.” You can’t do much in this position. You can only watch him leisurely trace his bulbous tip along your drippy petals, circling your hole. “Daddy—stop teasin’...”

“You want me bare, sweetie?” He asks, lazily dragging his balls over your folds. “You have to say it, or else I’m just gonna rub my balls all over your cunt and you’re gonna come like that.” He lifts easily despite being in a squatting position and stays there above you. Taunting you, making you sweat and whine.

You stare at the string of arousal between your puffy folds and his full sack. “Daddy, I—p-please, want—”

He spits on your cunt and pinches your clit meanly, “You can do better than that. I know you’re dumb, but you know how to speak.”

“Please fuck me—bare,” You sound utterly broken, “W-Want to feel your big cock in my little pussy, want you to pump me full. Make me your cumslut, please! Get—Get me pregnant, daddy.”

Ari spits on your core again and lowers, penetrating you in one thrust, and pinning you down with his weight. He forces your flailing hands to hold your legs in place, keeping you wide open for his carnal gaze. The number of times he’s dreamt of having you in a mating press, one would think he was fucking obsessed. And honestly, they wouldn’t be wrong.

Your eyes roll back and you get that exquisitely stupid look on your face. He smirks, “There, was that so fuckin’ hard? Such a dumb little whore begging me to fuck you bare, you remember how you didn’t even let me finish in you with a condom on?”

Not really, all of the times you’ve had sex, you were too fucked out to notice anything. This time was no different.

Ari builds speed, harshly pounding down into your hole and fisting the bed sheets. “Now look at you, cockdrunk—fuckin’ ballsdrunk too I bet.” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan and all he can think about is gagging you on his sack.

Your response is a garbled yes daddy.

“I fucking knew it.” He drops to one knee and leans over you. His thrusts are harder at this angle and this proximity, he can see every useless thought leave your pretty head. “Little slut, you wanna be daddy’s cumdump, sweetie? You want me to fill you up and toss you aside, treat you like a stupid cumrag?”

You nod helplessly, choking out pathetic uh’s with every thrust. He’s so ruthless too, spitting on your cunt or tits, and easily overpowering your squirming body. His length forces out your juices and it leaks down your ass.

“Begging me to knock you up, and treat this little cunt like a cumdump. I thought you were supposed to be my good bunny?”

“A-Am, daddy…”

That earns you a glob of spit on your face. “I don’t like liars. Admit it, ya little crybaby. You just want daddy’s cum in your pussy.” He admires the fat tears pouring from your eyes, “If you could see yourself now, going fuckin’ stupid for cum.”

He’s so deep, his balls slap against your wetness as he rocks into you—stuffing you to the brim. You’ve never felt this full before. Your body begins to ache from this position, but you don’t want him to stop.

Hot streams of euphoria almost knock you unconscious, but Ari’s fingers jamming down your throat make your eyes shoot open. His chest is flushed and the red bleeds onto his face, his dark hair sticks to his sweaty forehead.

“Keep looking at me, baby. Want you to see when I breed this little pussy.”

Automatically, you suck on his digits and taste yourself. He drops forward, completely covering you and hooking your legs over his shoulders. If possible, his dick hits deeper, and for a moment you confuse his fingers in the back of your throat for the tip of his dick.

“Are you ever gonna leave daddy again?” He prys your mouth open, messily spitting on your tongue as you gag. “Poor girl fucked stupid already. All dumb on daddy’s dick, and crying like a fuckin’ baby. Not a single thought in that pretty head.” He pulls out your tongue and chuckles when it just hangs out, saliva smearing on the bottom half of your face, joining your pretty tears.

You’re just a useless little bunny, crying your little heart out on his dick as if you didn’t ask for it and he isn’t doing you a damn favour—without him, you’d be a wet, pitiful mess and probably getting pumped and dumped by some shithead.

Ari would demand you thank him, but he knows you’re too cockdrunk to speak. So, he rails your tight cunt, splitting you open on his girth, claiming his rightful property. He’s determined to fuck a baby into you.

Your senses go in overdrive when your swollen button is bullied by those same rough fingers. You cry out, trying to shove him away but he only gets meaner and pinches your bundle. You mewl and tremble beneath him, creamy and nearly shattered as he thrusts harder and deeper, hitting that rough patch with cruel precision.

“I fucking love you, bunny.” He grunts, eyes locked on your leaking juices that only make him more ravenous. His whole cock is covered in you, and he can feel your excessive arousal dripping down his balls. “Love you so much—you’re never gonna get away again. You hear me?” He grabs your face, still torturing your clit with his other hand. “I said do you fucking hear me?”

“Yes, daddy!” You sob brokenly, struggling to keep his devious glare, “I-I won’t, uh! Promise!”

When you clench tightly, he shudders and falls on top of you, crushing you to the rocking bed. “Fuck, that’s a good bunny.” He groans deeply, licking up your salty tears. “Daddy’s good little bunny, I fuckin’ love how stupid you are.” He bites into your throat, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

“Luh y-you too, daddy.”

With both of his feet firmly on the floor again, one of his hands grips your shoulder and the other lands above your head, his fingers securing your bunny ears to your head. He can’t look away from your glazed-over eyes, too beautifully ruined, and teary and twinkling. “You leave me again, and I’ll do much worst next time.”

If you weren’t all over the place, you’d wonder what he did this time.

He pulls you down to meet his thrusts, and you can offer nothing but weepy moans as your walls tighten, choking his dick, and bringing him closer to a blissful end. Your legs flail, the band in your tummy so close to snapping with every brutal pound of his hips.

“You wanna know something, dumb bunny?” He leans down, spitting on your cheek before smearing it into your skin. The single action has you spiralling. “This isn’t the first time I’ve filled you up.”

You can’t process his confession since your body loses control. Your juices squirt out forcefully and your walls contract, almost trying to push him out but he doesn’t falter and pumps harshly. Your sharp squeal wrecks your throat as you coat him in your orgasm, soaking his cock and balls, all the way down his thick thighs.

Ari presses your legs into the mattress, lowering his weight onto your convulsing frame. “F-Fuck, that’s it. Milk me, ya little dummy, make a stupid mess all over me. Show me how much you love me.” He hisses, his muscles tensing under his flushed skin. His cock pulses as his balls tighten, then finally, he teeters over. “Oh shit, fucking take my cum. I’m gonna fuckin’ breed this little pussy—” His words break off into a guttural groan that bounces off of the walls. Hot streams of his seed flood your insides, stuffing you full until the white pours out from around his girth.

You fade in and out of consciousness, eventually landing in an in-between. The numbness swallows you up from your limbs, slowly but surely reaching your quaking chest. You don’t know if you’re just breathing unevenly or full-on sobbing, but the wet feeling on your face suggests the latter.

Ari pants heavily, his warm breath fanning over your cheeks. He cradles your hot, sticky cheek and slips his thumb into your mouth. In this floaty headspace, you suckle on him lightly, feeling immediately grounded. “It’s okay, sweet bunny, go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

A brightness pulls you from that special place of dreams, and your surroundings trickle into your air-filled head.

First, you smell him. That familiar musk floods your nose in the best way, calming you like a lullaby. You could’ve fallen asleep again, but a faint conversation sparks your curiosity, so you flip over, still hugging a pillow and slowly open your eyes.

At the doorway, two men peer in with their arms crossed.

You wave sleepily, “G’morning guys…”

“Morning, bunny. You have a good sleep last night?”

“Yeah, I—” you yawn, “—love Ari’s bed. It’s so big and warm… nothing like mine.”

“That’s a good thing since you’ll be staying here a while.” Curtis gestures to the side of the room currently occupied by a few of your bags and some stuffies. “Ari had us pick up some stuff from your dorm.”

Your heart swells, you missed this so dearly.

You missed hanging out at their frat house every day, listening to them joke around and say the most vulgar things. Most of all, you missed having zero worries. Ari made everything as easy as possible for you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way, regardless of what your controlling friends thought. A part of you only wishes you realized that sooner.

“Thank you.” You smile softly, “Did you two go to the party last night?”

Curtis waves dismissively, “Nah, we stayed in. You know coach and his dumb rules.”

You pout. “Yeah… Wish you could’ve came though, it was fun.” You try to recall the previous night, but only get glimpses of strobe lights, cute spooky goodies and getting fucked stupid. Your cheeks heat up, “Uhm… from what I remember anyway.”

“It’s alright, we had our own fun. Right, Buck?”

The brunet nods, almost too enthusiastically. “Most definitely. I look forward to having that much fun again.”

“I wanna have fun too!” You lazily blink at them, not even noticing your breast peeking out from under the covers. “Can I join next time?”

Bucky chuckles deeply, “I think you’d have to ask your daddy that question, bunny. We have big boy fun, nothing that your little head could handle.”

You give them your best pout and even clasp your hands under your chin.

“Nice try, sweetie, but we aren’t big softies like your boyfriend.” Curtis snorts playfully, “speaking of, he made you breakfast.”

On the surface of the bedside table is a full platter of pancakes, fruit and juice. You squirm all giddily, “Ah yay! He is a big softie, right? Just a jumble of all the nicest, sweetest, kindest things!”

How ironic of you to say that as Ari walks up the stairs, freshly showered with his hair still dripping on his shoulders. “You two are still here?” He asks.

“We’re just checking up on the little bunny. Making sure she’s not going anywhere.”

Ari quirks a brow, “As if she could walk after last night.”

The two of them know all too much about that. After all, Ari had them help clean the bedroom and bring you back home. You were knocked out cold the entire time and snoring. None the wiser to the men stripping the bedroom of all traces of anyone’s presence.

When they arrived at the frat house, you were clad in Ari’s shirt, bunny ears, and covered in cum, spit and tears.

They thought you’ve never looked better.

Bucky tuts, “you know, went through a lot of trouble for that little dummy in your bed. Isn’t just perfect how she doesn’t remember a damn thing?”

The two other men hum in agreement, studying your sleepy face as you blindly eat the pancakes, humming, swaying and never once opening your eyes.

“I’d do it again. Wouldn’t you?” Curtis asks.

Bucky is silent for a few moments, only staring at Ari with that sinister smirk on his lips. “In a heartbeat.”

“You sound awfully eager…”

“What can I say? I had fun—and your little bunny wants to join next time too.”

“Absolutely not— ” Ari is cut off by the front door downstairs slamming open.

Steve’s voice rings out, “I hope everyone’s awake! I just ransacked the farmers market and am in a baking mood, so music will be blasting all day!”

The three men sigh softly at the obnoxious pop song ratting the house. They glance between the stairs and you, who was still eating your breakfast—except now there were pieces of fruit and syrup on your face, and you’ve reclined on the bed, undoubtedly making a damn mess on Ari’s clean sheets.

“We’re just surrounded by idiots, huh?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: once again, thank you very much for being patient with me !! i often find myself adding and moving parts while editing, so for me, editing can take a long while and sometimes a whole day. i don't write much of anything 'sneaky dark' if you get what i mean, so i hope you all enjoyed dark ghostface ex bf!ari !! he was fun to write !! I also wrote most of this fic while listening to brown noise, it helped me focus a lot.

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! here are the rest of my upcoming kinktober fics: ˗ˏˋ𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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zoe-is-amazingg · 1 year

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You're just not my type Prt 3

Jock!Ethan Landry X Guitarist!F!Reader

W/C - 1.5 K

Summary - Ethan definitely has an idea about what you think about him

Warnings - just making out.

A/N - I'm so happy i'm trying to finish this rn. im also done wit the flashbacks sooo

Last part * Next part *

Request rules * Taglist request *

You slowly walk into school, your headphones over your ears, it's been a week since you've last seen Bryce and you're living for it. You practically wanted nothing to do with him and recently, someone else was definitely trying to get in with you.

Ethan, that is.

He has been interacting with you all week, talking to you, flirting with you, he even has been asking you about your guitar. You weren't used to all this male attention surrounding you. Ethan's friends were slowly talking to you, finding you interesting and asking things about you too.

But out of all of them, Ethan is the one that you seem to like the most. He seems caring and kind and nice. He was cute as hell, but you really didn't want this to be another Bryce situation where he ends up being a dick to you in five days.

You're walking and just minding your own business when someone pulls off your headphones and you turn around. Of course, it was Ethan.

"Ethan give them back!" You huff as he puts them on his head. You really wanted to go to art early. He nods his head and hums to the tune of the song just a little bit before he takes them off and puts them around your neck.

"Is that...Your own music?" He asks you, looking deeper into your eyes than anyone else ever has before. He had this strong cologne on and on top of how his hair looked it the sun, it was intoxicating to you. You wanted to rip the varsity jacket off and kiss him.

"Uh, yes, actually. It's just something I've been working on for the moment, nothing too special." You state and He nods. He smirks at you and then steps back.

"That's really good," He states, and you blush, what the hell was happening to you. In a minute you'll start giggling like a fucking schoolgirl. "Can I meet you in the music room after this class. I really want to hear you play in person." You shake your head, and he sighs. You look into his eyes for a moment and groan. "Fuck it, sure, I'll see you there."

You slowly walk away and sigh as you put your headphones over your ears. You arrive at art, being a bit over 5 minutes late, you were never late and by the way everyone was looking at you, you could tell their thinking the same. You take your headphones off and take your seat at the back.

"Gentlemen and Gentlewoman, I really want this next piece for your portfolio to really tell me about your emotions." The teacher says. You weren't one for emotions really, but maybe these new feelings for your browned haired friend could bring out some good work. "I want this to reflect what the past month has been like in about three to five paintings, show me your emotions and the journey that your emotions go through."

"What the hell." You mumble. This month for you has been terrible, except for the past week. Your friend, Casey, looks at you. He was a great artist and an even better friend; he calls you constantly.

"I know you're not good with your emotions, but you should really use your feelings for Ethan. Their only blossoming into new for you, Bryce was a shit dude. Ethan seems like he's good for you. You seem happier." That was deep as hell. What the fuck.

You will admit to yourself that you do seem happier ever since Ethan's come into your life. So maybe that party was worth it. "I don't know, he asked me to meet him after this class to get him to watch me play. I don't know if I should go." You mumble.

"Y/N. I swear to god. If you don't go, you'll wish you did because I'll legit kill you." Casey says and you groan. "Fuck you, fuck it. I'll go!" You groan.

"Yessss! Please do! He loves you! It's so obvious." Casey rolls his eyes. You roll your eyes and get up and walk away. You put on your apron and grab 3 paint brushes, a cup of water and some light blue, pastel purple and pink and yellow. That's what you felt like doing at the time anyway

You go back to your desk and sit down. You place all the objects onto the table and slump back down into your seat. You turn around with your chair and grab a canvas and paint palette.

You turn back around to your desk and place the canvas and palette down. You squeeze a little bit of each color onto the palette and wet the smallest paint brush you grabbed. You dip it into the pink paint, someone in the corner of the classroom catches your eye. You slowly take off your headphones and put them into your bag.

"I'm here for Y/N." Ethan says. Your jaw drops. What the fuck is he doing? You don't come to his basketball practice. You were painting, you're not packing up because you just started. "Why does Y/N need to come with you?"

"Something important has come up and I really need her to come with me Mrs Warner." Ethan says. He looks at you and you shake your head. "Sure, go ahead, take Y/N. I'm not fighting with 21-year-old about a girl leaving class early."

"I'll pack up your stuff." Casey smirks at you. You grab your bag and leave with him. You both walk in silence for a moment, you're finding the right words because in your head, everything you wanted to say was mixed together.

"Where are we going?" You ask. He shakes his head at you and chuckles. Fuck. He is not taking you to the studio. "By the way your face expressions are, I think you just realized." He chuckles at you. You didn't want to play for him, you were planning on not showing up. But what's the worst that can happen?

You walk with him for a moment and then you both arrive at the studio. You really weren't keen on playing for him. He opens the door and there's your guitar, in all its beauty. "Y/N. Look, if you don't want to play for me, that's fine, I don't want you to feel like you have to." He says to you, clearly it was obvious that you were nervous to play infront of him.

"No, I want too. I just haven't really played my own music in front of someone before." You mutter, you both go inside the studio, and he closes the door. You pick up the electric guitar and set it up so it can make noise from the speakers. Ethan looks at you and slowly pulls the guitar out of your hands and lightly rests it on the wall.

He grabs your hands and looks at you directly into your eyes. He slowly rubs circles into the back of your hands. He drops onto his knees, and you can't even believe this is happening to you. "Are you okay?" He asks.

"Fine, fine. Don't worry about me." You whimper. He nods, clearly not convinced with your answer. He hands you back the guitar and you turn the volume up on it lightly. "Just pretend I'm not here."

You close your eyes. Fuck why is the this so damn scary. You start playing a little bit to see if it's tuned. It is and now you can't waste any more time. You slowly start with a hammer on and start playing. You play for about two minutes before you stop. Ethan's jaw is wide open and shocked.

"That's really fucking good." He mutters. You didn't know what to say. He did not just say your good. It felt like a praise. It was a praise. God, you wanted him so bad. You hand him the guitar. "Sit down, I'll give you a lesson." You say and his eyes light up. "Really?"

"Yes, now sit down before I change my mind." You sigh. He nods and sits down. The guitar is placed on his lap, and he picks it up the way you did before. He puts the strap over his shoulders. "What next ma'am?" He asks jokingly. You walk over and stand over him. You grab his hands and use your hands lead where his are going.

You let him play a little riff and then stop. He looks up at you and says "Fuck it, I cant pretend anymore." He mutters and you tilt your head.

What is he on about? Your thoughts are cut short when his lips connect with yours. Your lips move and fit perfectly together. He slides the guitar off him and places it onto the floor. You slowly move your body so you're standing basically on top of him. You slowly get pulled onto his lap and you hook your hands around his neck.

Someone opens the door, and you break the kiss to look at the person. It's the one person you did not want to talk too.

Bryce.

Taglist - @idky5

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the-iceni-bitch · 1 year

Text

Through Every Forest

Chapter IV: Don’t Break

Relationship: Alpha!Curtis Everett x Omega!fem reader

Words: 5.3k

Summary: Curtis might have found a new way for you to make him money.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! explicit language, explicit sexual content (flogging with a belt, fisting, f receiving oral sex, almost non-con penetration, exhibitionism), Omegaverse, dark to soft!dark Alpha Curtis, protectiveness, possessiveness, violence, mentions of minor medical procedures, character death, Alpha fight, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!

A/N: It’s here!! Only took me forever but they’re back and maybe feeling things?

You whined when you opened your eyes as the sun filtered through the window in your room, sweating and shivering now that the fever from your heat had broken. Curtis woke too when he felt you rouse, his chest rumbling pleasantly under your cheek when you curled closer to him and pulled the blankets tighter around the both of you.

He had barely left your rooms since he brought you back from your last hunt, bathing with you and sleeping with you and letting you press your naked body close to his while he made you come over and over with his fingers. His men were unhappy with the situation, growing restless and grumbling every time they brought him some problem and he made them come into the room so you didn’t have to leave his lap while he fixed whatever issue there was. But he didn’t care, admonishing them that you were their money maker, and if he had to spoil you some so be it.

“Time to wake up.” He chuckled when you just growled at him, scenting your hair and kissing your temple while you tried to burrow further under the blankets. “C’mon girl, I have a fucking meeting I have to go to.”

“You mean you’re going to see one of those sluts.” You looked pissed when you let him crawl out from under you. The only times he had left you at all during your heat were when he had to get his knot taken care of. It didn’t matter how many times you offered to let him use your hands or your mouth, he just muttered some stupid shit about how selling you when you smelled like prime Alpha cum would be a disaster and went off to shove his cock inside some weak little bitch. He did enjoy when he came back from getting his dick wet, though, when you would scent him obsessively and snarl like a little hellcat while you hissed about him wasting his time with slits who weren’t even worth bonding.

“No, I have a fucking meeting.” Curtis gripped your chin and grunted when you just rolled your eyes, popping you once on the cheek in admonishment before pulling you out of bed and making you sit at the table to eat your breakfast. “Don’t be a fucking bitch about me lining up new assholes for you to try to rip apart.”

You just huffed, taking a grudging bite of your oatmeal and glaring at him sullenly. His grin got even wider when the door opened and you hissed at Bryce coming into your rooms, giving you a kiss on the top of your head when kept grumbling and snarling at the Alpha.

“They’re here.” Bryce was frowning at you and at Curtis, unable to fathom why the boss was so fond of you and seemed to be catering to your every whim. “You should probably get dressed.”

“Yeah, alright.” Curtis rolled his eyes when you let out another huff, not missing the way your eyes followed him as he pulled on clothes until he looked presentable. “You be good. Eat all your food and stretch then maybe after our walk I’ll pet you while you sit in my lap, would you like that?”

“Hmph.” He chuckled when you nodded grudgingly, patting your head before drawing up to his full height and following Bryce out the door. “If you come back smelling like one of those sniveling whores, I’m gonna throw a fit.”

Curtis gave a warning growl when the man looked like he was going to harp on the same issues he always did when it came to you, nodding when Bryce just shrugged and handed him the file he was holding.

The whale was waiting in Curtis’s office for them, shaking Curtis’s hand harder than necessary and giving him a look like he was sizing him up for a fight. He was used to it, unfamiliar Gamma Alpha’s always got like this the first time they were around Curtis. It was stupid, really, like he couldn’t just rip their spines out without even breaking a sweat.

“So, Clyde.” What a fucking stupid name. “You want to do a group hunt?”

“We do. We’re um… well.” Jesus, stammering? You were going to eat this asshole alive. “We’re looking for an Omega that can handle multiple bonds.”

“And why is that something you’re interested in?” Curtis was bored of this guy, of course one of Bryce’s frat boy buddies was an absolute tool. “Most Alpha’s don’t like parading around an Omega that’s visibly taken the damage of multiple bondings.”

“Oh, it won’t be going out in public.” The idiot was starting to look relaxed as he prattled on. “It’ll be the executive team’s stress relief, but we very much enjoy being able to feel it through the bond when another one of us is using it. We’ve got the perfect, progressive Omega and Beta partners at home, and it gets tiring. We need something that can take all of our stress and pent up frustration on. We had one before, but it broke pretty easily.”

The dumbass seemed to not recognize the look of restrained fury that was on Curtis’s face. They wanted to tie you up in a basement and use you like a fucking sex toy. They would abuse you every day and laugh about feeling your torment through the bond while they went out for drinks after work. He had called you an ‘it’ the entire time, like you were just a set of holes to be used up until you were a broken shell of yourself.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can provide what you’re looking for.” It was taking everything in Curtis’s power not to reach across the desk and strangle Clyde. “We provide mates to be taken during a hunt, or we offer stress relieving retreats for our Omegas to be used. We don’t just sell them off.”

“Oh, we want to hunt it first, for sure.” He was still smiling, and Curtis hated it. “And I know it’s out of the ordinary, but we’re willing to offer an exceptional payment to see this through.”

“I don’t think you understand me.” Curtis cracked his neck to try to relieve some of the tension that was building up in his system. “The answer is no.”

“Just, look at our offer.” This moron was clearly used to getting whatever he wanted, sliding a piece of paper across the desk to Curtis with that same smarmy look on his face. “Here.”

“I’m not…” Curtis clenched his jaw when he got a look at the number. It was more than he would typically pull in over a quarter, much less one hunt. He would have to be the world’s biggest idiot to turn this down.

The inner turmoil was making him frustrated. More than anything, he wanted to throw this douche through the window. But saying no to the money was stupid, so stupid. And it’s not like they would actually get you, they would just get the chance to try. You would tear them all apart, group hunt or no, you were savage. So he should take the money, right?

“Fine.” Curtis said it through gritted teeth, not taking Clyde’s hand when he offered it and just grunting at him instead. “We’ll set up a time for you to view her before Friday.”

“Fantastic.” He really hoped you killed this guy. “Oh, we have some requests about the viewing…”

Curtis was fuming by the time he stormed back to your chambers, practically slamming the door off its hinges when he opened it while you gave him a curious look. He didn’t give you the chance to ask any questions before he was drawing you into his arms and scenting your hair, his low growl letting you know that whatever was going on, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“Promise me you’ll do your best to kill those fuckers on Friday, filly.”

It was two days later when he brought you to the viewing area on your leash. He had been in an especially sour mood ever since his meeting, growling each time you tried to ask him what was wrong and taking his frustration out on your body instead. Curtis looked especially irritated now, tugging on your leash even though you weren’t lagging and glaring when you came to stand in front of him.

“You’re my tough girl, right?” Curtis cupped your jaw almost gently as he scowled at you. “My strong girl.”

“Yes.” The look you gave him was full of concern, your hands twitching as you fought the urge to run your hands over his chest and comfort him.

“They want to see how tough you are, filly.” Curtis’s hand slid down to run along your collar, his face ducking close to yours as he nodded towards what looked like a stake in the ground. “They want to know how much you can take.”

You just swallowed as you gazed at him, letting him drag you towards the stake as you glanced around at all the cameras. There was a chain hanging from the top, and Curtis fastened some cuffs to your wrists then to the chain so your shoulders were screaming from being stretched above your head. He gave you a look that was almost pained, but that couldn’t be right. Curtis gripped your chin and lifted your head so he could turn your face and show you to each of the individual cameras. Then he gave you one more look, waiting for you to nod before he backhanded you across the face as hard as he could.

Blood was filling your mouth when he did it again, and you spat it out on the ground before giving him a look of defiance. The corners of his lips twitched when you snarled at him, a low growl vibrating his chest when he gripped the front of your shift and shredded it. He took a moment to make sure the cameras could see your body, cupping your breasts and tugging on your nipples before forcing you to turn around and lean against the stake.

It was impossible to see what he was doing with the position you were in. All you could tell was that he was moving behind you and grabbing something. Then the belt landed against your thighs. You didn’t scream, you would never let anyone see you that weak, but you drew in a harsh breath as hot pain bloomed across your skin.

He wasn’t hitting you hard enough to draw blood, but you knew you were going to have bruises. You were biting your lip so hard you could feel blood running down your chin as you struggled not to cry out. It was impossible to tell how long he was beating you for, at some point all you could focus on was the deep, stinging pain that was spreading all over your thighs and ass and back. But you knew it had been a while, you were drenched with sweat by the time Curtis turned you around, and so was he.

Curtis’s expression was full of pride when he saw your face, the lack of tears making his heart swell even as he brought the belt down across your stomach and breasts. You only barely flinched each time the belt cracked against your skin, your eyes fixed on Curtis’s and his on yours. He looked feral, a savage light behind his eyes while he licked his lips and growled at the welts he was raising on your skin.

“How wet are you, filly?” Curtis dropped the belt and stepped close, gripping your hair painfully and yanking your head back as he towered over you. “Hmm? I can fucking smell you.”

“Fuck you.” You spat blood all over his shirt and smiled at him, gasping when he shoved his hand between your legs and smacked your messy pussy. “Does it make you hard to beat up defenseless Omegas?”

“You know it does, filly.” He had to fight the urge to kiss your forehead when he shoved two fingers inside you, chuckling when you immediately started fluttering around him. “And it makes you wet to get beat up, so shut the fuck up and take it.”

Your retort was cut off when he wrapped his other hand around your throat and squeezed, his fingers working you open viciously while his thumb pressed against your throbbing carotid. He started stroking that spot inside you like it was his job, sliding a third finger inside you when your juices started to leak down his wrist. The cameras were almost completely forgotten, it was just the two of you as he stretched open your hole obscenely and tried not to rest his forehead against yours.

When he shoved the fourth finger inside you you almost choked on your tongue, your toes curling in the dirt while your eyes rolled back in your head. He was being so rough. It used to make you feel sick that you enjoyed this sort of thing so much, but now you just embraced it, embraced him and the things he made you feel. The fourth finger stretched you to the point of pain, but it was pain you enjoyed. You didn’t even care anymore about the fact that you should hate him and everything he did to you. All you cared about was being good for him.

“That’s a good bitch.” Curtis huffed into your hair before stepping back as he dragged you up the stake by your neck, pushing his entire hand inside your abused pussy and grunting when you whined with pleasure. “You take all of this shit, your fucking love it. Show all your fans what a filthy little slut you are.”

Your entire body was shaking as he pumped his fist in and out of you, your toes barely scraping against the ground as he pinned you to the wood by your throat. This shouldn’t feel good, it shouldn’t make your cunt drool all over anything or make your eyes roll in your head. But it did. Curtis groaned when he shoved his hand so far inside you your lower tummy started to bulge, screwing his eyes closed when your body arched and you let out a thin wail. It didn’t take long at all before he started to feel your cunt clenching around his fist, your legs kicking wildly when he yanked his hand out of you so your release squirted out of you like a flood.

“Holy shit.” Curtis undid the cuffs and caught you when you almost collapsed, sneaking a kiss to your temple before lifting you into his arms and carrying you back inside the compound. “That’s my good girl. You did great, filly.”

Nurses and other med staff were waiting when he got you back to your rooms, but he sent them away, gently setting you in the tub and starting to wash the welts and bruises he’d left all over you as gently as he could.

“I know, you’re okay.” He kissed your head again when you whimpered and winced as he patted the cloth over a particularly savage mark on your breast, resting his forehead against yours as he continued washing you. “This is why you’re going to beat the shit out of the fuckers that made me do this to you. I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.”

It was the first time he had called you something other than filly, and it made your heart flutter against your ribs.

You were mostly recovered by the time the hunt came, only some fading bruises left on your skin that you were able to ignore. Curtis had decided he was going to stay in the lodge as he didn’t want to deal with those bastards any more than strictly necessary, but he had told you he knew you were going to rip them apart and called you his good girl before you left. The truck was empty except for you while Carter drove you to the drop off point, your breathing deep and even as your adrenaline started to spike.

This was your first group hunt, but you weren’t worried. From what Curtis had told you the Alphas that would be hunting you were a bunch of frat boy spoiled assholes, nothing that should prove challenging for you in the least. When the truck stopped you didn’t even bother waiting for Carter to help you down, hopping out of the bed and landing on your toes in the soft dirt before you started running into the woods after giving him just a brief nod. Your blood was already up, your senses heightened as you anticipated turning the tables on the pricks who thought they deserved you.

It was almost an hour before you caught the first whiff of them. They weren’t traveling in a pack, but they were close together, it seemed like they were moving in a straight line towards where you were hiding. When the first one got close enough you ran, keeping as quiet as you could even though you wanted to laugh wildly at how stupid their strategy was. You gained enough ground on him that you had time to scrabble up a tree, perching in one of the lower branches and waiting for your hunter to appear.

He didn’t take long, crashing through the brush like an idiot and making more noise than should have been possible as he sniffed the air and growled softly. As soon as he looked up you fell on him, snarling and hissing while you scratched his face and did your best to gouge his eyes while he shouted in pain. They all really were idiots, this one was barely a challenge before you brought him down to the forest floor and grabbed a rock to bash his skull in.

Then you heard the gunshot.

A second after you heard it you felt it, pain ripping through your thigh and making you scream when the force of the shot pushed you off your hunter and made you sprawl across the ground. They weren’t supposed to have guns, that was one of Curtis’s biggest rules. The whole point of the hunt was that it was a fair chance to bond a mate under ancient conditions.

Not that it mattered right now. The gun was there and all you could do was hope to outrun them. You groaned when you struggled to get to your feet, immediately collapsing again and shrieking when another bullet grazed your side and then your shoulder. Then they were all in the clearing, laughing and licking their lips hungrily when they surrounded you.

“Just look at it, so pretty even when it’s all bloodied up.” One of them laughed and dropped the rifle he was holding, tutting at you with mocking disappointment when you snarled and tried to throw dirt in his eyes. “None of that, we’re here to have a good time.”

They all pounced at once, tearing your shift off you and biting you viciously everywhere they could. You managed to scratch and kick a few of them but it was no use, there were too many. In just a few seconds they had you pinned on your stomach with your face shoved in the dirt, your wounds screaming as they forced your thighs open obscenely wide and laughed when you kept trying to thrash out of their grip.

“So feisty, just makes it even tighter for me.” The same one who spoke earlier was behind you now, and he spit on your face before laying on top of you and lining himself up. “Smell so good, bet it’s messy too.”

You screamed when you felt him at your entrance, but then there was a roar and one of the hands holding you was ripped away. A sickening thud reached your ears and then you were suddenly free, breathing heavily and rolling onto your side to see what had happened to make them leave you alone.

Curtis was standing there looking like wrath personified, his chest barely heaving but his lip lifted in a dangerous snarl that had all of the Alphas around you shrinking back. You spotted one of their bodies at the foot of a tree, blood smeared on the trunk from where Curtis had thrown him into it. His scent was sharp with the edge of pure aggression, his stance ready to fight them all while he stood over you and gave them a derisive sneer.

All at once they came back to themselves and realized they had him outnumbered, rushing him with a chorus of howls like they actually thought they could take him. When the first one reached him he just grabbed the idiot by the throat and used his body to take out two more of them, not even breaking a sweat when he flung the unconscious one away like it was nothing. The two that hadn’t been knocked aside managed to pounce on him together, all three Alphas grappling in a tangle of limbs and teeth until there was a horrible scream and Curtis rose from the fray with someone’s torn off ear in his mouth.

He was in the process of wrenching one of their arms out of the socket when another tried to sneak up behind him. You snarled when he got close, lunging as best as you could with your injuries and dragging him down to the ground so you could press your thumb into one of his eyes and crack your rock against his head. Then you saw one of them moving towards the edge of the clearing, your heart jumping into your throat when you saw him pick something up and screamed.

“Curtis, gun!”

Your Alpha turned whip fast and dodged the bullet just in time, roaring when he felt it graze the outside of his bicep before he charged the idiot who fired it. All of them went as white as sheets when he snatched out of the moron’s hand and bent the barrel like it was nothing. When he threw the gun aside again everyone froze, all of the Alphas staring at each other before Curtis stalked back to you and the sound of ATVs coming towards all of you filled the night.

“Enough!” Curtis snarled at Clyde over his shoulder when the dumbass shouted at him, scooping you up off the ground and turning to face the man. “We fucking paid for that, what the fuck so you think you’re doing?”

“You paid for the opportunity to hunt.” Curtis didn’t even want to look at the asshole, he couldn’t stop running his eyes over your body to assess what they had done to you. “A fair hunt. I don’t do canned hunts, if you want that shit you should go to Russia.”

“Russia doesn’t have Prime Omegas.” Clyde still had the audacity to look angry. “Now, I paid for that bitch, you’re going to let me leave with it, or I’m gonna blow up your whole operation.”

“Like fuck you will.” Curtis sneered at the man when he tried to take a step closer, hushing you when you scented his chest as the ATVs pulled up. “Unless you want everyone to know you and your buddies bond and keep unwilling Omegas as sex slaves. And don’t think you’re going to get the chance at any other compounds in North America. You just got yourself blacklisted from every hunting ground on the continent, congratulations. Now, tell my men how the fuck you managed to get a gun onto my property and maybe they’ll let you and your cronies get some medical attention before they drive you back to your disappointed wives.”

You shivered and nuzzled into Curtis’s chest further when he climbed onto an ATV and started to drive you back to the compound, letting his scent soothe you as much as possible while your adrenaline went down and the pain started to get worse. He still looked furious when he took you back to your rooms, sending away the medical staff again with an angry bark before setting you on the bed and beginning to carefully examine your injuries.

“You came for me.” You winced when he touched the bullet wound in your leg, looking at him with big eyes as he rinsed the blood from your skin. “Why?”

“I heard the gunshots.” It was the only explanation he wanted to give you, his hands gentle as he ran a damp cloth over your body.

“That’s not a fucking answer, Curtis.” You frowned when he refused to meet your eyes, barely even flinching when he started to stitch up the wounds in your thigh. “Maybe you would have banned them if they had pulled that shit with any of your other pathetic bitches, but look me in the eye and tell me you would have almost killed them if it was anyone other than me.”

His urge was to slap you for mouthing off to him, but then he saw the raised bruise already marring your face. Your eye was swollen shut, and whoever punched you must have been wearing a ring because there was a shallow cut in the middle of the mark. Curtis growled at the thin trickle of blood that was running down your cheek, putting down the sutures and needle holders before moving closer to you.

You drew in a sharp breath when he cupped your jaw, your body freezing up when he leaned forward and dragged his tongue over the cut. He purred and crooned as he cleaned the cut with his tongue, pulling you closer and nuzzling your cheek gently while he licked you. As soon as he was satisfied he ducked so he could do the same to the bullet graze on your shoulder, the scrape of his beard against your skin while he worked only adding to your sense of comfort.

Curtis laid you down on the bed so he could find every wound and lick it clean, his tongue warm on your skin as his breath creeped over your body. Your breath got shorter when he stretched his body over yours, your eyelids growing heavier when he gazed up at you with some unreadable emotion written all over his face.

“Curtis…” You gasped when he licked the wound on your side, letting him spread your thighs around his ribs while his hands held your waist.

“Honey…” He screwed his eyes closed when the sentiment came out of his mouth unbidden, groaning before he nipped at the soft skin of your stomach. “Just shut the fuck up.”

His tongue dragged over your slit and you moaned, your fingers gripping the sheets under you tightly as he set to work. The movements he made were almost lazy, but they were heavy and sensuous and very close to overwhelming. Your eyes fluttered closed when he gently circled your clit, his large hands pressing against your stomach to keep you still as he feasted on you.

Curtis couldn’t stop watching your face while he devoured you. He spread your soft petals with his tongue so he could delve inside you, groaning into your pussy when your slick flooded his mouth until he was drowning in you. Just like that he knew. If it had been any other Omega out there tonight he wouldn’t have given two shits about them, he would’ve just banned the assholes for breaking his rules and put the poor bitch out of her misery. But as soon as he heard those gunshots tonight he had lost it, because it was you. None of those bastards deserved you, only him.

“Mine…” He growled into your cunt as he kept fucking you with his tongue, pressing his face into you even further when your scent took over his mind. “My good girl.”

Your mouth dropped open in a silent sob when his lips wrapped around your clit, your hips fighting against his hands when you felt his tongue swiping over your swollen little nub. The only warning you had to stay still was his grunt and a light nip to your pussy lips before his tongue was inside you again, the thick muscle stroking your insides while he moaned and slurped. He could feel you getting closer, making out with your sweet little cunt like it was his job as he chased the pleasure that he knew only he would be giving you from now on.

His tongue slid out of you so he could press it against your swollen clit, humming while he licked the little bundle of nerves until he heard your breath catch. When he sucked it again you sobbed, your whole body shivering while you fell apart and soaked his beard with your release. Your chest kept heaving with deep breaths as he licked your pussy clean, tears running down your cheeks when he was finally finished and crawled back up your body.

“Sleep.” Curtis kissed your forehead then paused for a second, giving you a curious look before he pressed his lips to yours and purred softly when he felt you relax underneath him. “I have one thing to take care of then I’ll be back, I promise. You need to rest, sweet girl.”

“Okay.” You sniffled and let your eyes fall closed when he pulled the blankets over your body, your breathing evening out as exhaustion started to overtake you.

Curtis waited until he heard you snoring softly before leaving your rooms, frowning when Carter was waiting for him in the hall and striding towards one of the cells that were underground. He ignored the sounds of crying and the sharp smell of fear as he went lower and lower, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest while he waited for Carter to unlock the door. The sight of Bryce chained to the floor made him snarl, his fists clenching before he started to roll his sleeves up his arms.

“Everett…” Bryce coughed when Curtis punched him in the face and snapped his head to the side, the younger Alpha spitting blood onto the floor when he just managed to catch himself. “That Omega bitch is gonna quit being new sooner than later, I was trying to make you more money.”

“You gave those fuckers a rifle, dumbass.” Curtis punched him again and shook the blood off his fist. “I have rules for a fucking reason. If they’re gonna get broken it’s on my say so, not your whim.”

“Jesus Christ, you’re pussy whipped for that slut.”

“Maybe, but she’s got more balls than you and she’s a whole lot better to look at, you insubordinate piece of shit.” Curtis was bored and tired of this asshole’s face. “Baizen, you and the rest of the guys need a good stress relief?”

“Nah boss.” Carter just smiled when Bryce sneered at him. “We all hit the stables earlier, we’re good. This dick isn’t worth it anyway.”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Curtis took the pistol Carter handed him and ignored Bryce’s sudden pleading, leveling the pistol at him and then shooting him in the head. “Get rid of the body.”

“No problem, boss.” Carter whistled and a crew of Betas came in with a saw and some tarp. “He was right about her novelty wearing off though, clients are gonna get sick of chasing something unattainable eventually.”

“I’m not too worried about that.” Curtis let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips, wiping the blood off his hands when Carter handed him a towel. “I’ve got a plan for her to bring us in one more good haul.”

#natalie writes #swimming through sick lullabies #through every forest #curtis everett #female reader #alpha!curtis everett #dark!alpha curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x female reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett smut #chris evans #chris evans character #chris evans smut #omegaverse #dead dove do not eat #violence #eighteen plus

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danikamariewrites · 1 year

Text

Meet the Frat Pack

Ruhn x f!Reader

A/n: I love Ruhn so much, I think he might be my favorite SJM man

Warnings: suggestive and mentions of alcohol

The house was packed, music bouncing off the walls as people mingled and drank. Ruhn had been distracted since the party started over an hour ago. Dec has noticed Ruhn’s odd behavior hasn’t just been tonight, it’s been going on for a few weeks now.

Ruhn has been secretive about his phone, he’s been laughing at his phone, and has been staying out later. He’s felt like a parent bothering his teenage son that won’t give him a straight answer. Dec has brought it up to his boyfriend, who said that Ruhn might be hiding a girlfriend. Dec hasn’t dared to ask Flynn what he thinks, he knows better than to do that to Ruhn.

Grabbing Flynn and Ithan, Dec drags them over to Bryce and Hunt, who are currently in the corner of the beer pong table room. “We need to talk about Ruhns behavior lately, it’s driving me crazy and I need to get to the bottom of it.”

Bryce jumps up and down, “FINALLY! I told you Athalar he’s hiding something!” Hunt rolls his eyes at her and sips his beer. “Do you think he has a girlfriend?” Ithan asks. The group's attention snaps to him.

“There’s no way!” Flynn shakes his head, “he would tell us about a girlfriend, right Dec?” Ithan claps him on the shoulder. “He would tell everyone but you Flynn.” Flynn shrugs him off, searching the room for Ruhn. He spots him by the makeshift bar, making two drinks?!

The rest of the group follows Flynn’s gaze, tracking the Fae prince. Hunt breaks the long silence, “If you keep staring at him he’s going to notice you freaks.” Flynn sighs, “Well, you guys have fun stalking Ruhn. I’m gonna go mingle. Talk to the females.” They all roll their eyes, Bryce making a gagging sound followed by Ithan whispering ‘poor female’ as the group disperses.

…

As you were walking up the front stairs of the house you took out your phone to text your boyfriend, Ruhn, to let him know you were here. After dating for 4 months he was finally ready to introduce you to his friends and sister. You were excited that he was letting you in. You knew the group had been through a lot in the last year, they lost so many friends. So you understood that he was hesitant to bring a new person into the fold.

You walked into the house, the smell of mirthroot and alcohol hitting you instantly. As you moved through the packed house you started to get a little nervous. What if his friends didn’t like you? Or worse, what if his sister hated you? Lost in your thoughts you bumped into someone spilling some of his drink. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.” The male gave you a charming smile, “No worries, what’s a pretty female like you doing here alone?” You cringed a little, what a cheesy way to flirt. “I’m looking for my boyfriend, actually.” Flynn lets out a defeated ‘ahh’.

You scan the room, spotting Ruhn by the bar already making you a drink. Your face breaks out into a wide grin, “Oh, there he is. Enjoy the party.” You give the now stunned male a friendly wave as you walk over to the bar.

Coming up next to Ruhn you grab his arm, laying your head on his shoulder. He leans into your familiar touch, your scent calming him. “Hi baby,” he looks at you, placing a quick kiss on your lips. He hands you the drink he made you and you clink glasses, sipping the fruity cocktail. “I’m excited to meet your friends.”

Ruhn wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “Are you sure you’re ready to meet them? They can be a lot, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He was always looking out for you, your relationship has been moving fast and you loved each other a lot. Ruhn, being the sweet male that he is, just wanted the best for you. He would always jokingly tell you, ‘you're the boss, babe. I'll do what you say.’

You loved how easy everything was between you two. He was so attentive, easy to talk to, and he’s really, really good in bed.

“I’m sure, Ruhn. I’ll admit I’m a little nervous they won’t like me, but I won’t know until I meet them.” Ruhn smiles at you, his eyes full of love and adoration. Ruhn slips his hand into yours, leading you to his friends.

…

After Flynn and Dec gave Ruhn a scolding and lesson in friendship, the rest of the night went by perfectly. You and Bryce became fast friends, already making plans to hang out. She even suggested a double date which Hunt surprisingly agreed to, only for Bryce of course.

Once the party died down, Bryce and Hunt went home, Ruhn led you upstairs to his room, leaving Dec, Flynn, and Ithan in the living to play a video game.

Alone at last Ruhn pulls you into a tight hug, “They loved you, by the way.” You pull away from him to start kissing his neck. “I loved them too. Bryce is great, I can’t believe I was ever worried.”

Ruhn let out a hum as you kissed up to his jaw. “What do you say we start the after party?” You laugh as he picks you up, carrying you over to his bed.

#crescent city #crescent city fanfic #crescent city x reader #ruhn danaan #ruhn x reader #ruhn danaan x reader #Ruhn fluff #Ruhn fic

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makeyoumine69 · 2 years

Note

Hello! Congratulations on 200!! Can you do knife play and rough sex please? <33333

Thrill

● Pairing: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

● Summary: Patrick takes you to his family vacation house.

● CW: Knife play in its truest sense(!), hard prone sex, oral (f&m), possessive behaviour, Patrick has a filthy mouth and some more.

● Wordcount: ~4.1k (I know I am terrible! 🙈)

● A/N: So, this is the longest thing I ever wrote about Patrick. Thank you so much for this ask! I hope you like it!🥰

Also, I want to thank @ladyalexandranna @jacktorrancekinny @sosweetcupcake for brainstorming with me over this fic!💗

● Useful links: │BWC Masterlist│ │Main Masterlist│

It was the longest day that you thought would never end as you were in the middle of a party in Patrick’s friend's fancy vacation house; his name was Timothy Bryce, as you could remember and he was the only interesting person Bateman knew, besides you of course.

Drinking another glass of wine, you quickly glanced at a group of people standing close enough to you so you could hear them talking.

“Did you see who Patrick came with?” A good-looking woman asked her dark-haired friend, fumbling the necklace with a finger as she seemed to be anxious.

“Not really. But I am curious about what happened to Evelyn.”

“I heard they broke up… Bateman literally tore her heart into pieces.”

“Ohhh, what a poor thing.” A brunette laminated before she turned her gaze in your direction, looking over your back.

When you were about to spin around and check what was the object of her attention, you bumped into a solid male chest and almost right away, you felt the enveloping scent of expensive masculine perfume.

“Drank too much, sweetie?” Patrick crooned in a cute tone, wrapping your waist in a second.

“N-no, you just showed up so suddenly,” frowning a bit, you shook an empty glass in front of his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t stain your suit.”

With a soft chuckle, Bateman pulled you closer to whisper: “Let’s sneak out of here, Sugar.”

“Wasn’t it you who persuaded me to come here?”

“Yeah… I know,” he murmured, tickling your earlobe with his hot breath. “I just want to show you something…”

“What is it?” You rejoined, looking up to find his eyes glowing with an undisguised thrill.

“What an impatient girl…”

“Say what you want to say, Patrick.”

Bateman smirked before he pecked your cheekbone, stroking your shoulders as if he wanted you to relax. “Just wanna take you to a really luxurious house.”

Stunned by his sudden offer, you quickly looked around, tagging a ruthless lock behind your ear. “Your friend won’t be offended?” “I don’t think he will even notice us leaving.”

With a soft smile on your face, you placed a glass on the table nearby as you knew him too well–that was not a suggestion to visit his house; it was a statement, so you didn’t really have a say in that.

After a while, Patrick’s limo was taking you further and further away from Timothy's cottage by the second. Trapped in your thoughts, you pressed your cheek against the cold glass as you were watching the scenery outside the window changing so fast.

“You never told me you have a house…”

“Well,” Patrick gasped, turning in your direction to hold your hand. “It’s my family vacation house where we used to spend a lot of time. But since my parents have divorced, all those days are left in the past.”

“Oh…” biting your lip a bit, you faced him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, Sugar.” Grinning cocky, he shifted his palm to your hip, moving further to its inner side.

Excited by his unexpectedly frank touch, you covered his palm with yours as you felt yourself getting wetter with each second, but you still had one very pointed question.

“Who is Evelyn?” You asked abruptly, watching his face change into a tense grimace.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just heard someone talking about you two,” you sensed his grip tighten on your hip with your words. “Patrick, you don't have to say it…”

You heard him laughing smugly in response as he hugged your shoulders with his other hand. “Well, if you really want to know,” he got closer to your neck, nuzzling against it a bit. “Evelyn is my ex-fiancée.”

“I got it,” you stated, running your fingers through his perfect hair. “Thank you for… For being honest with me.”

“Of course, (Y/N),” he took you by the chin to lock his brown eyes with yours. “How could I not be open with you? You’re the only person I can really trust.”

Damn Bateman, what a devil–you scoffed to yourself, admitting his amazing ability to play around with all the words he was saying. To be fair, you expected any reaction from him to your question but not this; especially when he pulled you into a sweet kiss, sucking your tongue as you allowed him to.

The rest of the way to the vacation house, you both kept in silence as you pressed your head against his broad chest, playing with the fabric of his fancy coat while Patrick was patting your shoulders and your back. What an unbelievably strange harmony—you concluded, remembering the aphorism about a calm before the storm.

Soon, you arrived at a beautifully constructed house with a large yard, which had a magnificent garden planted. Amazed by the open view, you were looking through the window like a child who saw the snow for the first time.

“(Y/N), are you thinking?” Patrick joked as he already got outside the limo and was waiting for you to follow.

“Sorry, I’m just so fascinated by the beauty of this house,” the fact that you couldn’t hide your emotions made him so proud of himself and you didn’t really mind. “Can’t take my eyes off of it.”

“I bet,” he gave you a hand to help you move out. “I wonder what you will say when we get inside.”

Finally, you stepped on the ground and as a true gentleman, Patrick offered you to walk arm in arm with him and you couldn’t refuse this sweet gesture. A cool breeze was blowing around you as you were walking on a stone path that led to the main door.

As soon as you walked inside the house, Patrick helped you to pull off your coat and asked in a sweet tone: “Sugar, are you cold?”

“No, I’m fine,” you smiled at him before you looked around. “This house is as huge as it looks from the outside!”

“You can say that, huh,” he hugged you from behind, pushing you a bit to move forward. “Let’s proceed to the main area here–the living room.”

Grinning, you were totally tempted to know what the walls of this house had prepared for you. Switching between looking to the left or to the right, you were following Patrick and your heartbeat was rising with each step you made as you couldn't figure out what he was up to yet.

“Well, here we are,” he declared, his extremely masculine voice sounding even deeper. “You can make yourself a small tour of the house, while I’m setting up some things.”

“Which things?”

“Find us a drink, for example,” Patrick chuckled, gliding his hand against the expensive brown-leather couch. “Go wherever you want, you have my permission.”

That was really weird, no mistake.

Humming to yourself, you clicked your tongue and decided–right now you were not in the mood of solving any puzzles, so you just nodded to him before you left the living room as you were on your way to new adventures.

You didn’t remember how many rooms you’d already seen, there were a lot of them for sure. When you were about to come back to Patrick, you noticed a heavy door made of some dark high-quality wood; you could almost see your reflection on the doorknob.

As soon as you entered the room, you looked for a light switch, tracing your hand against the wall. Once you found it, you made a loud gasp at the picture that had opened up to you–plenty of animal heads were looking at you from the opposite side of the room, causing your blood to freeze in your veins.

It seemed like you accidentally got into the hunting room or maybe the study? Along with the hunting trophies, you saw a lot of different weapons: knives, rifles, daggers, and…even a sword?

Puzzled, you were thinking about to whom all of this stuff belonged as you came closer to have a proper look. You couldn't remember Bateman saying anything about him being into hunting, but maybe his father did—because this type of free time was quite suitable for people of high society. Reflecting on all these things, you didn’t notice your finger sliding against the handle of one of the big hunting knives. When you spotted a beautiful engraving on it, you squint your eyes in order to read it, but almost right away you were caught like a bratty baby whose curiosity led it into the trap.

“Aren’t you afraid you might cut yourself?” Bateman’s raspy voice sent shivers down your spine.

“Oh! I was just looking and…” you spun around to see Patrick standing in the doorway with his arms crossed on his chest. “Well… I wasn't supposed to touch it.”

For how long was he standing here, and how did he sneak up so quietly that you didn’t even hear a sound to detect him? Sneering, Bateman pushed off from the doorway, his dark eyes tracing all over your shaking frame as he must have been already so aroused.

“Are you gonna join me in the living room or have you suddenly decided to become a huntress?”

Embarrassed, you moved towards him to peck his cheek before murmuring: “Sorry, daddy. I hope you will forgive me for this little lapse in judgement?”

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered, giving your butt a brief slap. “I need to think about it. But now, I want you in the living room. Is it clear?”

You nodded in agreement as you moved to the door, leaving Patrick behind your back, so you couldn’t notice him taking exactly that knife you were touching before.

Once you reached the living room, you immediately saw a lighted fireplace which made the entire atmosphere so cozy and warm–you felt your heart melting from the heat it was radiating. Then, you found a glass of red wine which was waiting for you on the coffee table. Taking a sip of the tasty liquid, you placed yourself on the leather couch, watching the flame dancing like it was alive.

“Enjoying the drink?”

“I’m not an expert on wines, but this one tastes amazing,” you looked up at him before you froze in place. “Patrick, w-why do you need that thing?”

With a devilish smile on his face, Bateman was twirling a knife in his hands as he was slowly getting closer to you; the way his brown eyes were burning with an animalistic bloodlust made you feel a terrible drop in your stomach.

“Relax, Sugar,” Patrick let out a small laugh as he took pleasure in the look of fear you had mastered. “Those weapons definitely got your attention, didn’t they?”

“I… I was just curious, nothing special about i-it.” You hiccupped a bit, feeling an uprising panic inside your chest the closer he was getting.

“Do you like the feeling of danger?” he crooned in a provocative but seductive tone before he reached your place. “When adrenaline is rushing the blood in your veins, hmmm?”

At this moment, a sense of reality drowned in the theatre of madness and you didn’t even notice yourself breathing heavily with your heart beating so fast–he could hear it without a doubt.

“Okay… Now it’s not funny at all,” your voice cracked into a whine as you were going to break away from him, but he stopped you with his grip on your neck the second you tried to do it. “P-Patrick, your words were sufficient. You don’t have to do this...”

“Do what?” Bateman was shamelessly playing on your nerves cause he was so good at it and as a result he could sense the artery on your neck pulsing really quickly. “Do you want to know more about this knife?”

With that said, Patrick pressed a blade to your cheek in a way that didn’t hurt you, but you could feel the coolness of the metal on your skin. Gulping, you looked up at him, watching his fingers going up to your chin and then, he traced them along your lips, forcing you to open your mouth as he slipped his thumb inside of it. Suckling it with a true devotion, you were attempting to soothe your breathing as you were scared to get a cut.

When Bateman pulled his digit out, he drew near to kiss your neck but before he did it, he heard your muffled babble: “Tell me… Tell me more about it…”

Grinning against your skin, he left a notable wet hickey on your bare shoulder as he proceeded his way with the knife, going down to your cleavage. “This knife was exclusively made on my orders, from high-quality steel to the imported wood for the handle. The perfect combination of an extra sharp blade and a special decorative wooden handle.”

With each word he said, the heat of his body became unbearable to resist as you felt your nipples tense so hard–Patrick wouldn't miss it for sure and soon, you ended up being sprawled on the coffee table, panting and trembling from how he was using the knife, slicing your clothes here and there.

“D-daddy,” you sobbed, fidgeting in your place as you sensed the cold metal gliding over the inner side of your hip. “I’m scared…”

“Don’t be, Sugar. Just stay still if you don’t want to get hurt,” he sneered in a hoarse voice, pulling on your black tights to slice them without hurting you. “Mmhm, I forgot to say–I gifted this knife to my father, so it’s his favourite one from his extensive collection. The fact that you chose exactly this knife turned me on so much…”

Closing your eyes, you wailed in response as at last Patrick cupped your pussy, rubbing your blushing clit with the thumb through your damp underwear; for a moment you even forgot about the blade pressed against your thigh as your body was desperately yearning for more.

“So, I was right when I said that being in danger excites you? Such a nasty risky girl, huh?” Bateman taunted you before he planted a sloppy kiss on your mound, going lower to your little nub and then, he cut your panties, throwing them away like useless trash. “Once I entered that room I could smell your arousal in the air, you're a dirty little slut!”

“T-that's not true! Auhh-Patrick…”

“C’mon, baby. We are not at school,” he ran his fingers along your moist folds. “And I am not your teacher, you don’t need to hide your perverted vices from me…”

When you looked down to see him pressing a handle of the knife against your clit, you immediately suddenly cried out, leaning on your elbows: “Pat...Patrick! What… What are you doing?”

“You don’t see?”

“S-stop…Mmm-hm….”

“Do ya really want me to stop?” Mocking you, Patrick pushed the handle harder as he was massaging your clit with the tip.

These suddenly blissful sensations made your toes curl and your peaks were painfully tight, just like your whole insides as you felt the building tension in your lower belly.

“Your thirsty pussy certainly needs more,” he growled from watching your slickness running down the handle. “Much more…”

Biting his lower lip, Bateman placed his one hand on your cunt to spread your folds for better control as the thing he was going to do next, was totally destructive to your already clouded mind.

Almost with no resistance, he stuffed your little hole with a handle, fixating you in one place as you were jolting all over the wooden surface of the coffee table and moaning wildly like never: “O…G-God, a-ahhh…Daddy, this… this is…”

“Too much for you?”

“A-aww, y-yeahh,” you had to shush yourself with a palm from the friction the handle was making. “I…”

Paralyzed, you were falling down into oblivion the moment you felt him lapping at your throbbing clit besides the stretching penetrative feeling he was giving you with the handle–these things were pushing you over the edge insanely fast like a high-speed train. Twitching erratically from the intensive tremor, you clung to the wooden table top until your knuckles hurt. Arching your back like a tensed string, you were desperately catching the air between your moans, as all this time Bateman was licking and sucking on your pulsating nub, extending your delirious orgasm, while fucking your roughly with the handle.

Little drops of sweat were running down your face, when Patrick finally let you come back from your high as he left your body almost breathless.

“And what would you say about that?” panting, he briefly fixed his hair and only then, he pulled out the handle as he was going to clean it up. “According to what I saw–that was not too much for you.”

With all the strength you have left, you got up a bit to watch him licking your wetness off the handle. “No comments from me…I guess.”

His loud chuckle echoed in your head before he demanded: “Get yourself on the couch, we’re not done yet.”

Gulping, you thought he must have been joking, but when you looked into his dark eyes–you had no doubts about him being so damn serious. With shaking knees, you stood up and moved to the leather couch; Patrick was watching your every step as he was undoing his suit. Still quivering, you took the same place you had before, feeling yourself uncomfortable from the endless wetness between your legs.

“Sugar, look at me…” he purred, coming close to you as he was stroking his fully erected cock. “I’m not gonna face fuck you now, since you were a good girl last twenty minutes… But next time, I will ruin your mouth and your throat and I won’t stop even if you beg me. Understand?”

“Mmhm.” You muffled, giving him a foggy glance.

“Use words, slut.”

“Yes, Pat… Daddy,” you watched him smirking in satisfaction and then, Patrick got his leg on the edge of the couch, still having a knife in his other hand. “What do you want me to do?”

“Now it’s your turn to taste me, babe,” he pulled you closer to his groin by the back of your head, shoving his dick into your warm mouth. “A-argh…Yes, just like that…”

You mewled against his hot flesh, grabbing on his hips for support but almost instantly, Bateman removed your hands and squeezed your cheeks.

“No-no, I said to taste–not to touch.” His whisper sounded more like a feral growl as he brought the knife right next to your face once again.

Trembling, you swallowed hard and looked at the blade that could cut you at any second, feeling your heart about to jump out from your chest. Meantime, Bateman displaced his palm onto your swollen tits, pulling down the upper part of your dress to have a better access to your very sensitive nipples, pinching and rolling them painfully between his long fingers.

“Mmmm-hm.” You mewled, feeling his cock twitching in your mouth whenever you tensed your lips around it as if you were sucking your favourite ice-cream.

“Fuck, Sugar…You’re making daddy feel so good…”

Once you adjusted to the lack of the air in your lungs, he suddenly broke away from you, putting a knife on the floor nearby. Without saying a word, he manhandled you to turn around and lay flat on the couch, with your face pressed against the leather material. When you tried to lift your head, you were harshly pushed back and then; you felt his weight covering your little body. Fuck, Bateman was so powerful–he could easily pin you against any surface he wanted to, leaving you no chance to make any resistance.

“A-awww, Daddy… please! It’s so fucking deep, aa-ahh…” You cried out beneath him as he bottomed you out completely in one smooth thrust.

In return you only heard his low growl, flesh-meeting-flesh sounds bounced against the walls of the living room and there was nothing left for you to do but to be a good girl for him, accepting him the way he was.

Leaning on his fists, Patrick was pounding into you so briskly–you could felt each vein on his beefy shaft as he was literally fucking you into the couch.

“Patrick…Aaamh!…” Moaning, you turned your head to the side, looking down on the floor and spotting the knife on it.

Right away, Patrick noticed the direction of your gaze and grumped into your ear, giving your butt a hard slap, which would definitely hurt for a while. “My little bitch didn’t get enough of knife games?”

“N-no…I…I just, uu-uaah….”

“Can’t hear you,” he laughed and leaned down, taking the knife in order to press it against your throat. “Do you forget how to speak?”

“I’m…So f-full, mmmhm!”

“Oh, come on!” he slammed into your cunt till his heavy balls, coaxing something incoherent to erupt from your mouth. “I’m fucking your pussy, not your brain…”

Harshly, Bateman pulled on your hair, forcing you to look into his eyes as he was railing you raggedly, making your whole body rock whenever his solid hips were meeting yours. It felt so crazy, being fucked by him like an animal with a knife gliding against the delicate skin of your neck…and yet, you could sense the upcoming rapture in your gut as you couldn’t deny–you liked this man and all the things he was doing with your body cause you were probably as insane as he was.

“Fuck! I’m so close, Sugar… I wanna cum into your pretty mouth,” he blurted out, breathing furiously as he was trying his best to last longer. “Get on your back.”

You heard a knife fall on the floor with a loud thud, when you were changing your position and then, Patrick set himself on his knees over your face, almost straddling it. With a slight push, he buried himself in your mouth, yanking on your hair as he was desperately cresting his high.

“My perfect b-baby, sucking me so well…” Patrick looked down at you, groaning so loudly as the picture of you devouring his thick cock with such innocent eyes, drooling so badly from how vigorous you were bobbing your head–pushed him over the cliff, making him completely lose his mind. “A-hhh, (Y/N)!”

With closed eyes, Bateman moaned your name as he was spilling his warm seed into your throat and you almost choke on his beefy girth, clawing at his hips. When he slowly pulled out of you, leaving a string of liquids which was extended from your mouth till the blushing tip of his cock, you could feel his body shaking from the tremendous release–his cum was dripping on your tits from your chin as you couldn't swallow all of it and that sensation irrevocably turned you into a ruined sobbing mess.

Huffing, Bateman got his hair out of his face before he spun around in a half as his fingers found their way to your overstimulated pussy once again.

“D-daddy…It feels…So g-good….a-awww!”

That was the last thing you pronounced as you inner walls began to spasm so hard, Patrick had to press you against the couch with his weight as he was finger fucking you in a perfect rhyme, hitting all the right spots inside your cunt. Wrapping your neck, he leant over to your face to kiss your lips, tasting himself on it and consuming all the nasty sounds you were making as you were trembling uncontrollably in his brawny arms.

Later, after you both cleaned yourselves, you were lying on the couch, covered with a blanket which Bateman brought you some minutes ago; it was so warm and soft, you nearly purred from the pleasant feeling as you were totally naked cause you didn’t want to get dressed yet.

Resting on your elbows, you looked at Patrick who was standing near the fireplace and smoking his favourite cigar. Unlike you, he was wearing a white t-shirt and grey pants, which were perfectly outlining the shape of his tight ass.

“I can’t imagine what your father will say when he knows you took his knife…” You sighed sadly, rolling on your belly.

“He won’t say anything at all.”

“Why?” “I’m gonna borrow this knife from him,” he grinned as he turned in your direction, puffing on his cigar from time to time. “Coz I don’t know when my sugar baby will decide to play this game once more…”

“Me?!” you nearly squealed, getting up on your knees. “That was your idea!” “Really?” he crooned in a teasing way, admiring the view of your exposed body as the blanket slipped down a bit from you moving. “You know what? Next time, I don’t mind if you use this knife on me. I've got some shirts I don’t really like–you can slice some of them.”

The last thing you remembered before you fell asleep was him rumbling about the modern techniques of making different weapons and that one day, he should definitely take you to the shooting gallery. Simply irresistible man…

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader

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shadowdaddies · 1 year

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Quality Entertainment

Ruhn x Reader

You and Ruhn have different ideas about what qualifies as good television, but can you agree on other forms of entertainment.

A/N: I'm thinking about Ruhn Danaan a LOT and I only see it getting worse after January 30

Warnings: fluffy smut below the cut, nsfw, oral f!receiving, minors dni

You were curled up in Ruhn’s lap on the couch, trying to focus on the movie you were watching together. He had his arms around you, tucking you into his warm chest as his hands absent-mindedly traced patterns along your arms, your waist, your legs. You let out a soft sigh at the feeling, nestling further into your boyfriend’s lap where you were met with the evidence that he was not entirely focused on the movie as well.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing up at Ruhn as you rolled your hips harder against him. He let out a soft groan as his fingers gripped your hips harshly. “You seem distracted, Ruhn. I thought this was supposed to be ‘a cinematic masterpiece’ as you said,” you teased, trailing your hand up and threading it through his hair. Ruhn pinned you with a stare. “I didn’t say it was a ‘cinematic masterpiece,’ just that it’s better than that trashy reality TV you and Bryce watch.”

You snickered, aware that Fangs and Bangs wasn’t award-winning content, but you refused to admit that to Ruhn because his reactions to the show were what you enjoyed most. “Mhmm, well you’d better keep your eyes on the screen, then. I’d hate to get in the way of quality entertainment,” you bantered, swinging your leg over so that you were straddling his lap facing him.

Ruhn smirked, catching onto your game. He returned his attention to the TV behind you as he ran his hands over your thighs, teasing you with a feather-light touch. Challenge accepted. You pulled your top off, leaving you in your shorts and black lace bra. You inched closer to Ruhn so that your chests were barely touching, smirking as his breath quickened, clearly straining to maintain his focus on the screen. You began kissing and sucking at the exposed skin on his neck, licking your way up the side of this throat to his ear where you whispered, “enjoying the show?”

Ruhn swallowed but kept his gaze ahead, his expression changing to smugness as he brought his hands up your bare waist and undid the clasp on your bra. You sucked in a breath as your nipples were exposed to the cool air. Ruhn lazily dragged his hands to your breasts, drawing slow, teasing circles before lightly pulling and twisting each of your nipples. You bit back a moan as you tried to maintain the sense of dominance you had in the situation, but Ruhn could scent how aroused you were. Your breaths were shallow, and you were trying to calculate your next move when Ruhn practically shouted, “movie’s over,” and pulled you closer to him. He wasted no time taking one of your nipples into his mouth, flicking his tongue and swirling before dragging his lip ring along the sensitive peak, and repeating his movements on the other breast.

You were gasping as you rolled your hips against him. “Fuck, Ruhn, please,” you murmured and pulled his chin up to kiss you. You reached down to palm him through his jeans, causing his mouth to part enough for you to slip your tongue in, moving in tandem with the roll of your hips. Ruhn flipped you onto your back, his arms caging you in on the couch. He slowly kissed and licked his way down your torso, reaching the top of your shorts before he pulled them down, leaving you completely naked while he remained fully clothed above you.

Ruhn shifted down on the couch, licking and biting the insides of your thighs as his fingertips grazed your abdomen. He dragged his bottom lip along each side of your center, teasing you with his lip ring while pinning down your hips with one arm. He brought up his other hand, swirling and dipping slightly into your center. “Gods, you’re so wet, princess.” You pushed your hips against his arm holding you in place, “do something about it then, prince.” Ruhn removed his hand to give you a mock bow before bringing his finger up to his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. You hooked your legs around his back and he smirked, making eye contact with you as he dragged his lower lip right over your sensitive clit. You moaned loudly, instinctively rolling your hips towards him as he began to suck your clit, bringing two fingers up to curl inside of you at a vicious pace. You hit your high with a scream, arching your back as Ruhn continued licking and sucking your clit until your legs were shaking.

When you finally came down from your orgasm, you looked at Ruhn who was smiling at you. “That is my favorite form of entertainment,” he said, scooping you up bridal style as he carried you to the bedroom to continue.

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midwestmade29 · 9 months

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Imagine Request ✨

To anonymous: I hope this is everything you hoped for! I'm not sure if I did it properly, but I can assure you I did my absolute best to follow your request. Thanks again for the request…I loved it 🖤

Original anonymous request: "Can I send a Christian Cage x Female!Reader imagine? So what is we have Evil Dilf Christian, The Patriarch, The TNT Champ, the Face of AEW in a serious long term established relationship with a loving America’s Sweetheart, Sunshine Baby Face reader. Is the kind of relationship they’ve never played up on TV and even though they don’t post about each other too often, the fans and everyone is well aware they’re together. Maybe the reader is in a high stakes contender ship match and she ends up injuring herself somehow. This causes Christian to break character and come out to help get her out of the ring and loaded into the ambulance to get checked out and it ultimately ends up with her having surgery and Christian being the best boyfriend/fiance/husband (you can choose that!) he can be and takes care of his woman while she recovers?" Word count: 950 GIFs are not mine. Credit goes to their original creators. I selected each GIF to further help visualize the things happening in the story 🙂

Disclaimers: Some cursing, injury sustained (broken bone), pain due to injury, ambulance ride, mention of hospital and surgery. Read at your own discretion.

“After tonight, we will be the TNT and TBS champs. You’re going to do great baby,” Christian whispered into your ear. You had dreamt about having the shiny belt around your waist ever since you arrived in AEW. You worked your ass off to get this title shot and you’ll be damned if you don’t give the match your all! “You’re going to be watching, right?” you asked while Christian embraced you. “Of course! They need me for a pre taping in a minute, but my eyes will be glued to the monitor the entire time.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is set for one fall with a 20-minute time limit. It is for the TBS Championship!” Justin Robert’s announced, your music blasting through the speakers immediately after. Excalibur hyped up the match, “And here comes everyone’s ray of sunshine, Y/N! She’s looking to take down our reigning TBS champ Julia Hart after securing a title shot last Saturday on Collision. Let’s watch as these two fierce competitors take on one another!” You smiled and waved at everyone while you stood in the ring waiting for Julia to make her entrance. “We love you Y/N!” one fan cried out, and smiled when you blew them a playful kiss. You stood in the darkness when Julia’s music hit, nerves calming a little when you thought about celebrating your victory with your favorite temperamental Patriarch later.

“That’s it baby, don’t ease up! Show her who the real champ is!” Christian yelled at the tv monitor while he watched you. “Don’t count Y/N out guys. She’s holding her own against the champ very well!” Taz praised. “Smart man,” Christian laughed to himself, but his laughter stopped abruptly when he watched you attempt to use Julia’s new finisher against her, landing awkwardly on your feet before your leg buckled causing you to fall. You sat in the center of the ring writhing in pain while you grasped at your ankle. Everyone in the crowd cringed while they watched the replay on the big screen. You tried to stand, wailing in pain when you put pressure on your ankle. “Bryce, my ankle! Something’s wrong with my ankle! I felt a snap and now I can’t move it!”

“Something isn’t right. What the hell happened?!” Tony Kahn’s voice crackled through Bryce’s earpiece. Julia leaned against the turnbuckle, laughing in delight at your pain as she stayed in character. “If Y/N can finish the match, wrap it up and change the finish. Julia will retain!” Tony Kahn called the audible, Bryce sighing in defeat because he knew tonight was supposed to be your night. He bent over and asked if you were able to continue, you grimaced and nodded yes. You stumbled to your feet, trying to hold back your tears as you hopped over to Julia on one leg. She read the situation correctly when she gave you a thrust kick that knocked you back down, instantly locking you in her submission hold Heartless. “Could this be it for Y/N folks?!” Taz shouted as everyone was on the edge of their seats, hoping that you weren’t going to tap out.

“What the fuck was that?! Y/N was supposed to win! Shit!” Christian roared when he saw you laying in the ring with your eyes skewered shut. He bolted through the backstage area and down the ramp and into the ring as the cameras captured his every move. “Christian Cage?! What the hell is he doing here?” Tony Schiavone questioned. Everyone was surprised by Christian breaking character as he knelt by your side while Doc Sampson examined you. No one knew if this was a part of a storyline or if it was real since you and Christian kept your relationship out of AEW. You were placed on a stretcher and loaded into an ambulance while everyone watched. Christian held your hand the entire ride to the hospital, assuring you that you were going to be okay. The sirens wailed in the night as you rode in the back of the ambulance. You were delirious from the pain that was consuming you, and your body was slowly coming out of fight or flight mode.

“I’m right here, baby! Take it easy, try not to move your legs. The doctor said the surgery went well!” Christian sat next to your hospital bed holding your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles, and kissing them. Your engagement ring caught his eye, making him smile and chuckle to himself. You were still groggy from surgery, but coherent enough to notice his bright smile. “What’s that smile for?” you murmured as you stroked his cheek with your hand. “I was just thinking about our upcoming vows. In sickness and in health. I guess we’re practicing that part now, aren’t we?”

Recovery was difficult, but you had the best caregiver by your side! Christian waited on you hand and foot making sure you never had to lift a finger. He never missed a doctor’s appointment and made sure to do whatever he could to comfort you after a physical therapy session. As he helped you get situated in bed, an overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over you as you watched the man that most people viewed as evil and cantankerous cover you with a blanket and kiss your forehead. Christian really is the best fiancé!

“Thank you, baby. For everything! You risked a lot when you ran to the ring to help me. You’ve been by my side through this whole ordeal and loving me through it all. It means so much to me having you in my corner.”

“I know you’d do the same for me Y/N.”

“In a heartbeat, Christian.”

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ugh-yoongi · 2 years

Text

threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore / @hot-soop / @the-boy-meets-evil

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

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jeannineee · 11 months

Text

Kinktober Day Twenty-Three: Food Play

Bryce Quinlan x Reader

warnings: smut obviously, oral f receiving, fingering, they use whipped cream, LMFAO idk how to word it just read (kinktober masterlist)

You weren't entirely sure how you went from making ice cream sundaes with your girlfriend, to her painting your body with whipped cream, but you were never one to complain when it came to Bryce's whims and wants.

You shivered slightly as the cold, sugary substance made contact with your nipples, to which Bryce's amused smile only grew. She put the whipped cream aside, and began trailing kisses along your jaw, your neck.

"Such a pretty girl," she murmured against you skin. She kissed her way down your chest, latching her mouth around a nipple, licking away the whipped cream that covered it.

Your hips bucked involuntarily, arousal flooding through you as she moved to your other breast, teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. "Bryce," you whimpered, eyes pleading.

"So needy," she teased playfully, dragging her tongue through the trail of whipped cream that ran down your navel. "Just relax for me, baby."

"That's kind of hard when you're--oh..."

Your protest turned into a choked moan as Bryce swiped her tongue through your folds, groaning at your taste. She hooked her hands around your thighs as she wrapped her lips around your swollen bud, sucking gently.

Her name left your lips over and over as she devoured you. You tangled your hands in her wine-red locks, tugging at it with each wave of pleasure that jolted through you. It wasn't long before that familiar heat was spreading through your belly, your moans and pleas coming out breathy and jumbled as your release built.

Bryce, knowing your body like the back of her hand, slid two fingers into your soaked entrance, curling them perfectly against your sweet spot. "I've got you, baby," she mumbled against your flesh. "Come for me."

Your body jerked and shuddered beneath her as your orgasm crested. Bryce didn't relent, continuing to lap at your cunt until you were begging her to stop.

Bryce pulled away with a satisfied grin, kissing her way back up your spent body until her eyes were level with yours. "Think you can take another?"

taglist: @azriels-shadowsinger @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @bbycowboi @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @fendyr @thegirlintheshadows101 @icey--stars @exoahgasebby @cassiefromhell @missusbarnes-rogers @danikamariewrites @cmay25 @anpacax0 @georgiastars13 @hannzoaks @impossibelle @harrystylesfan2686 @bookishbroadwaybish @girl-who-writes-stuff @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @iron-collector-traveler @captainsbaby @strawberryshortcake143 @glitterypirateduck

#crescent city #bryce quinlan #wlw smut #bryce quinlan smut #bryce quinlan x reader #smut #crescent city smut

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Text

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

There’s no going back now. Welcome to my stepcest verse. Here you’ll find all of my series, fics, blurbs/drabbles and wip tags for: stepdad, stepdad’s best friend, stepbrother(s), etc., and all thots, including single pairings and crossovers.

【 fluff, smut, angst, dark, (c)ompleted, request 】

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ | @onsunnysidelibrary | 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬:

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐬; series ⤜ d, f, s

✧࿐ Ari has spent too long protecting you from the big bad world and all the monsters who inhabit it—including himself—for you to belong to someone else. See the Rush Collection. [soft dark!stepbrother!Ari Levinson, frat boys!CEvans characters, innocent!reader, university au, stepcest, grey character undertones, fratboy!Ari, innocent/virgin!reader]

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬:

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐁𝐲 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐩; one shot ⤜ s, r (c)

✧࿐ It’s the summer before your freshman college year, and your stepdad’s best friend has been teaching you about pleasure behind your stepdad’s back, or so you think. Based on this ask. [stepdad!Ari Levinson, stepdad’s best friend!Lloyd Hansen, stepcest, innocent!/inexperienced!reader]

𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝?; one shot ⤜ f, s (c)

✧࿐ Curtis has always been your hero, and after a horror movie marathon, it’s no surprise you seek comfort in his bed. [Stepbrother!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader. Stepcest, somnophilia, corruption/ruined kink]

𝐖𝐈𝐏𝐬: [ faves | others ]

see each tag for asks/drabbles/blurbs.

bad boy stepbro!curtis

boyfriend!curtis and boyfriend’s stepdad!ari

bratty stepsis!reader x stepbro!ari

cam!stepbro!ari

dark mafia!stepbro!ari

golden boy!frat boy!stepbro!steve rogers

nerd stepbro!jake jensen

stepbro!andy x party girl!reader

stepbro!bryce langley

stepbro!ransom x camgirl!reader

stepdad!bucky

stoner stepbro!ari

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐬/𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: not tagged as wips.

smut = *

stepdad!Lloyd Hansen got with your family for business but wants to knock you up*

christmas with stepdad!Ari Levinson*

boyfriend’s stepdad!Lloyd Hansen (ft. boyfriend!Ransom Drysdale)*

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zoe-is-amazingg · 1 year

Text

Your just not my type Part One

Jock!Ethan Landry X F!Guitarist!Reader

W/C - 1.0 K

Summary - Ethan tries his best to impress you and date you, but you have other plans.

Warnings - Fluff, angst, alcohol use and mention, abusive relationships, seizures, vivid flashbacks, whore shaming.

A/N - This will have other parts and I will slowly put them out.

*Next Part*

You walk into school, your body hurting from the party beforehand. Your boyfriend, Bryce, has been on your ass from you ghosting him for a couple weeks now. You can't tell him that you've lost interest in him and as much as you love him what he did was unnecessary.

-- Flashback --

You enter the party that your friend, Tara said you should go to. You find no interest in parties unless you could bring your guitar and preform. You were just scared that your boyfriend would be there. He got drunk and threw a bottle at you a couple of nights ago. You aren't one for shit like that. Your mum was exactly like that. she would get drunk and come home all angry at you for something you didn't do. You walk into the kitchen and a red cup gets placed in your hand.

"Y/N! You're here! I didn't think you'd show!" Tara smiles as she walks up to you. You smile at her and hug her lightly. You place your cup down with no interest in picking it up again. "I didn't either." You mutter out. She frowns and elbows you, you look where her eyes seem to be looking at you and Bryce, is standing in front of you and you didn't even notice.

-- End Of Flashback --

Ethan comes up to you and smiles. "Hey, Y/N, I get that last night wasn't something you usually do, but there's another one tonight." You're done with parties for the rest of your life, last night, was a night you will never relive. "Ethan, I love the offer bu-" "I'll be there." He smirks. You sigh. You should of never went up to him last night.

"No." You sneer. Ethan's eyes go wide. He never got that tone from you and that's when he decided to leave the subject alone. He changes his surprised look to a grin when Chad comes up to you. "Y/N, Bryce wants to speak to you." He says and you shake your head.

"Tell that fucker to go die." You say, Chad rises his eyebrows and he and Ethan leave you to go to the fountain where all of the basketball players sit. That's what bothers you about Ethan and Chad suddenly finding such a big interest in you, if you didn't go to that party, they both wouldn't know you existed.

-- Flashback --

Bryce smiles at you and you take a step back. This was for him to notice that you had a problem with him, but he doesn't notice. "Y/N!" He yells out and goes in for a hug and you take a step to the side. He frowns at you, and you shake your head. You look to your side for Tara, but she isn't there. "Come on, you know I never meant to hurt you." Bryce claims lightly. You leave him standing there and go to the kitchen, you grab a drink and down it quickly.

You find Ethan and Chad, two basketball players on Bryce's team. You smile at them, and Ethan looks at you confused, and Chad just looks drunk. They both have a shot in their hands, and you leave them there.

-- End of Flashback --

You had no interest in going to Bryce, you said and did what you said and did last night and if he had a big problem can go die. But as he taps you, you knew you had to be civil. "Come on...You can't just ignore me forever, but I'm ready to let you get away with an apology." He says and you gasp, you never thought he would go that low and he's lower than a snake's asshole.

"Excuse me!" You half yell, knowing all of thoughts about being civil are out of your head. "I owe you an apology?! The fuck are you even on! I know that what I did was a little bit out of line! But Bryce! You threw a fucking bottle at my fucking head! Do you not remember kissing someone else!"

-- Flashback --

After a while you go to sit on the couch where Anika and Mindy were making out. You grab a shot glass from the coffee table and down it. "Girl! How's Bryce?" Anika asks once she notices you were sitting there. "Horrible, don't remind me!" You shake your head. Anika frowns and Mindy looks upset at the both of you.

You see Bryce standing with a girl, not just any girl, Brianna. She had always been the biggest bitch to you and when she called you a whore, Bryce just stood there and laughed. He had his arms wrapped around her and kissed her! On the. Fucking. Lips. Mindys' jaw drops. Anika looks at you and hands you a bottle of vodka. You don't get what you ever saw in him, it was one of those points in a relationship.

You take a long sip of vodka, and it burns your throat. But it felt nice, like that it was alighting a flame in you that had to be extinguished. A flame for revenge.

-- End of Flashback --

A/N - Btw i have a couple of requests so if you have requested smt and I have responded, dw, I was in the middle of writing this haha.

#ethanissohot #ethan landry headcanons #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion fluff #ethan landry smut #ethan landry imagine #scream x reader #scream 2023 #scream franchise #tara scream #scream 6

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cherrycola27 · 2 years

Text

Midnight Rain

Alright friends! This my second piece in my new series of One Shots inspired by Taylor Swift's Midnights! If there is a song on there and a Top Gun person you feel it goes with, don't hesitate to send me a request!

Paring: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Warnings: Language, Mentions of drinking, jealousy, cheating, abuse.

He knew this day would eventually come... deep down he had hoped it wouldn't, but the creme colored envelope with his name written in your script sat on his counter as a blaring reminder that it had.

He picked it up and opened it to read it again:

"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. Bryson Edward Abbott and Ms. Y/n Grace Cooper on the 28th of May 2022 at 6pm at the Abbott Ranch, Fort Worth TX."

He couldn't believe you were marrying Bryce fucking Abbott... the one person in all of Texas Jake couldn't stand.

Maybe if he had gotten his head out of his ass sooner, his name would have been next to yours and you two would be getting married on his family ranch, but what seems like a lifetime ago, Jake Seresin left you crying on your front porch after he told you he was going to Top Gun and leaving Texas for good.

He sighed before double checking he had everything he needed for the next 14 days. His flight to Fort Worth left in three hours and he wanted to give himself plenty of time for any hang ups at the airport.

A few hours later his mom and sister greated him at baggage claim.

"Oh honey!" His mom cried as she wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Hey there little bro." His sister Savannah greeted him.

The Seresin family made their way out of their airport to Savannah's waiting car. The drive to the ranch was filled with Jake's mother and sister asking him questions and catching up. He was fine until his mother brought up Y/n and Bryce's wedding. Jake cringed at the thought of you becoming Y/n Abbott in two weeks. Something that didn't go unnoticed by his sister.

When they arrived at the ranch Jake was please to see his father and his other older sister Lauren had picked up his rental car for him. The grey Silverado similar to the one he had back in San Diego was waiting for him in the drive way.

His mother insisted he didn't need it, but there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be without transportation for two weeks.

Later when his mother needed an ingredient from the store, she was more than thankful Jake had rented a truck.

So, here he was now looking in the baking aisle for the very specific brand of chocolate chips she just had to have for her cookies.

Once he had found them he tossed them in his small cart and quickly turned to head out. In his haste he bumped into someone else. He looked up to see who it was only to be met with a familiar pair of eyes.

"Y/n" he breathed out as if he couldn't believe you were standing infront of him.

"Jacob Seresin, what are the odds?" you smiled at him before waltzing over and pulling him into a hug. He was taken aback for a moment before he reciprocated the hug.

"Pretty good odds that I'm here considering you're getting married in a couple weeks. I had some leave I needed to use so I came out a little early to see the family." He said answering your previous question.

The two of you stood there in the aisle catching up on the past years, you were both trying to be polite, but the obvious pain he had caused you hung in the air.

"Jake, I'd love to catch up more. Would you like to come get drinks with me and Bryce and Marissa tonight?" You asked him sweetly.

Jake could've said that he would rather eject out of an F-18 than get drinks with you, your fiancée, and your best friend. He could have said that, but instead he said "Yes I'd love to, where at and what time?"

"The Red Barn Saloon on Main at 8 sound good?" You asked.

"Sure." He replied.

"Great, do you still have the same phone number?" You asked innocently.

"Um no, I don't." He said shyly.

"Can I see your phone?" You asked. He unlocked it and handed it to you. You quickly typed in your number and sent a quick text to yourself so you would have his.

"I will text you if anything changes." You say before continuing your shopping.

Maybe it was wrong of him, but Jake had never been more thankful that his mother had sent him on an errand in his life.

By the time 8pm had rolled around Jake was an excited mess. He walked into the bar looking for you. While he wasn't thrilled that Bryce and Marissa would be joining the two of you, he was thankful that maybe there was a glimmer of hope that you would let him come back in your life.

He scanned the crowd until he saw you alone at a booth. You looked beautiful, a yellow sundress graced your form he had to remember how to breathe for a moment.

"Hey!" You called as you jumped up to hug him.

"Hey!" He responded hugging you back without hesitating this time.

"Where are Marissa and Bryce?" He asked as he sat down.

"They are both at his campaign office working late on some things. Marissa is his chief of staff." You explained. "Bryce texted me and said they were sorry they couldn't make it but we should have fun and he wants to see you soon!"

"Huh. Okay." Jake said. In his head he was thinking that sounded a little suspicious. Jake's father had informed him that Bryce was running for Congress. He didn't know that Y/n best friend was on his staff.

He shouldn't make a big deal about it. Politicians and their staff worked late all the time, but Jake remembered Marissa. She was a beautiful girl... and Bryce was never one to shy away from temptation. No. Stop Jake. He mentally scolded himself. He was not going down this road, no, you were happy, he was going to be happy for you.

The night played on and you two caught up over the things you had each missed over the past six years. Beers and conversations flowed between the two of you, however after three, Jake switched to water becasue some needed to be okay to drive both of you home if needed.

"Wait... wait... wait.... they call you Hangman? Like the kids game?" You laughed at him. You had asked what his call sign was, thinking it was probably going to be something Texas related, not a child's game.

"It was because I kind of sort of used to be an asshole to fly with and would leave my wingman hanging." He admitted.

"I know what that's like. To be left hanging by Jake Seresin." You blurted out. Once the words left your lips you immediately covered your mouth in embarrassment. You hadn't meant to say that. The alcohol loosened your lips.

"Jakey, I'm sorry I shouldn't have." You apologize seeing the hurt flash across his face.

"It's okay darlin. I deserved that." He says rubbing you arm.

You feel like such an ass now. You told yourself from the moment you saw him in the store you weren't going to bring up the past. He checked his phone.

"It's getting late sweetheart. How are you getting home?" He asked.

"I was planning to Uber, but" you pause checking and seeing that there in none available. "There isn't one for another two hours." You sigh

"I can take you home if you want." He offers with a genuine smile. He holds out his hand to help you up. You take it and wobble upon standing. He tucks you closer to his side as you two leave the bar.

You don't know why but you curl in closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of him. He helps you into his truck as you feebly feed him directions to your home... the home you share with Bryce.

He helps you up the steps but you can't find your keys. He knocks on the door and a flustered looking Bryce Abbott opens it a few minutes later.

"Jake?!" He asks looking almost startled to see you. "How are you man?" He asks. "I'm good. Hope you are. How's the campaign going?" Jake asks making small talk.

"It's good. Thanks for brining Y/n home. Did she try to call me I didn't see a missed call from her?" He asks Jake.

"No she was going to get an Uber but it would have been hours so I offered to bring her back. I only had a couple and stopped drinking a while ago." Jake explains as he passed you to Bryce.

"Thanks man, I owe you one." Bryce nods. Jake turns to leave before Bryce yells out to him.

"Hey Jake!" Jake turns back around.

"So listen I know this is crazy and all but, one of my groomsmen just had to back out of the wedding his job is sending him to Finland to secure an account and he has to go. I know we haven't talked in a while but we were always old football buddies, and if you already have plans I get it, but I talked to your sister and she said you were free... could you possibly fill in? I know Y/n doesn't want an uneven bridal party." He asks you.

Jake should have laughed in his face. Jake should have turned around and run. Jake should have said no, but instead Jake said "Sure man, I'd be honored. Y/n has my number. Just call me in the morning with the details." Before leaving into the night wondering what the fuck he was going to do.

Jake Seresin isn't exactly sure how he made it through the next 10 days with a smile on his face but somehow he did.

He fell into the role of groomsman perfectly. Your family thanked him over and over again. So did you. He actually felt like he could do this until the rehearsal garden party Marissa was hosting.

Everything seemed to be going fine. As luck would have it, he was paired with his sister in the bridal party, which made all of your single friends in the party a bit excited knowing he was available. You would be lying if you didn't say you weren't a touch jealous when you saw the way your sorority sister Emma looked at him.

But, you couldn't be, you were getting married, you didn't want Jake anymore. He chose his career over you. He wanted to chase a dream. He was fickle like midnight rain. You weren't. You were calm, sure, and steady.

"Y/n!" Bryce yelled at you snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned and saw his face and knew his expression meant he was angry. "Shit" you mumbled before walking up to him

"Hey honey whats up?" You asked with the biggest fake smile on your face.

"We need to speak, privately." He grumbled before you followed him into the house.

A while later the party was running low on bottled water. Jake being the dutiful groomsman went inside to look for some, and that's when he heard it.

The hushed yet fiery tones of you and Bryce arguing. He shouldn't be nosy but curiosity got the better of him.

He peaked inside the study just in time to see Bryce reach out and violently grip your arm and pull you towards him. You yelped in pain and tears formed in your eyes. Jake couldn't hear everything that was being said, just you profusely apologizing while Bryce shook you.

That son of a bitch, Jake thought. He couldn't believe what he had just seen. You were always so sweet and kind, how could Bryce be so mean and cruel to you.

Jake had seen this pattern of behavior before, he once kept some really shitty company, and he could tell by your reaction that this wasn't the first time Bryce and hurt you.

As much as he tried to push down his feelings, he couldn't anymore. He decided in that moment, though he didn't know how, but he was never going to let Bryson fucking Abbott hurt his girl again.

Jake didn't plan to come to Texas to ruin your wedding, or maybe he did who knows, but tonight was the bachelor party and in less than 24 hours, unless he did something you were going to marry Bryce Abbott. The thought of it left a bad taste in his mouth, worse than the shitty whiskey he just took a shot of.

Bryce and all of the groomsmen were out at some bar celebrating. Jake was the most sober of the group, he mentally decided that was what he needed to do in order to figure out how to get you to leave Bryce.

"Jaaaake" Bryce slured as he came over and threw his arm around his shoulder.

"Hey man how about some water? You are getting married tomorrow." Jake said trying to get him to slow down.

Bryce too a sip before looking back at him. "So dude I really appreciate you filling in. You want to know something?" Bryce asked with a bleary look on his face.

"Sure." Jake responded. "Marco, the guy you replaced isn't actually in Finland. I kicked him out because he walked in on me and Marissa screwing in the office." Bryce laughed.

Jake's eyes went wide. "He threated to tell Y/n so I blackmailed him and kicked him out of the wedding." Bryce continued.

"If you're sleeping with Marissa then why are you marrying Y/n" Jake asked as he tried to remain calm and not punch Bryce in is teeth.

"Y/n looks good in pictures, she will be a good politician's wife and she comes from money... money fuels campaigns. Plus she has no idea Marissa and I are sleeping together because we work together and work long hours. Anyway I'm going to go ride the mechanical bull. See you." Bryce says before walking away like nothing had happened.

That was it, the last straw. Jake grabbed his things and sped to your hotel room.

He pounded on the door. You were surprised to see him when you opened it.

"We need to talk." He said before barging in.

He explained everything to you that Bryce had said, and what he had seen. You confessed that it wasn't the first time Bryson had hurt you, and that deep down you knew something was going on with him and Marissa.

Then he apologized to you for leaving you. Told you how sorry he was for everything and how this was all his fault.

And then he did something you didn't expect.

He kissed you.

It was searing, hot, tender, and full of passion.

You broke apart before he spoke again.

"Y/n please don't do this. I still love you, you still love me!" Jake pleaded with her.

"Jake, I'm supposed to get married tomorrow! I can't just call off the wedding because you came back into my life two week ago and threw my world off its axis!" You yell back at him

"But he doesn't love you! He is cheating on you! He hurt you!" He shouts back.

"You hurt me too Jacob." You say barely above a whisper.

He pauses for a moment thinking about his next words.

"I know. I know I hurt you. And it is the biggest mistake I have even made in life, and I will never forgive myself for it. But Y/n, baby, I promise if you give me another chance I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I would do anything for you." He says taking your face in his hands.

"Would you give up flying for me?" You ask knowing that's what drove you two apart all those years ago.

"Absolutely. I'd turn in my wings today if it meant I could keep you forever." Jake tells you without hesitating. You can see that he is being truthful by the look in his eyes.

You're shocked because you didn't really think he would say that.

"I—I, Jake" you don't know what to say.

"Let me see your hand." He says. You hold out your left hand to him. He slips your engagement ring off and places it on your other hand, then he slides his Navy ring onto you finger.

"Jake what are you doing?" You ask looking at him confused. "I can't keep this!" You say going to remove the ring.

He stops you. "There's only two ways I will take this back from you. Tomorrow I'm not coming to the wedding, I can't stand up there in a suit and tie and not be the one marrying you." He begins

"I'm leaving for the airport at 6:30 tomorrow afternoon. So, you can either send that ring back with Savanah before then and I will drive off into the sunset. But if you chose to do that, just know I won't be back." He says.

"Or, you can bring it back to me yourself and I swear on my life, I'll give you a diamond ring to replace it." He finishes.

You arent sure how to respond. There is a beat of silence before he kisses you again. This time you don't fight it. You both break apart when you need air.

"Jake." You state as he starts to leave the room.

"Y/n, last time I didn't give you a choice when I left, this time I am, and whatever you chose, make your choice because it's want you want." He tells you before leaving for the night.

The next day you are getting ready for the wedding. Everyone is buzzing around you and talking but you honestly don't hear them.

You look back over to your small clutch that had Jake's ring neatly tucked into it, hidden from everyone. You look back at Savannah wondering if she knows what he said last night.

It's almost time to put on your dress and head for the ranch. You look at the time... 5:00pm. Jake leaves in an hour and a half.

Suddenly you feel a deep ache in your stomach, the thought over never seeing him again makes you sick. Jake was right. You deserved more than Bryce, someone who would give up everything for you. Someone who loved you.

Like the sky after a rain storm everything suddenly became clear.

"I need everyone out! You shout at all the people in your room. "I just need a little time and space." You say. Everyone silently nods and leaves. You lock the door behind them.

You take a deep breath, knowing what you are about to do is crazy and will forever chance the course of your life. You quickly write down an explanation before shrugging your robe and grabbing some clothes from your suitcase.

You find your car keys and slip off the ring from Bryce, placing with the note. You grab Jake's Navy ring and slip it on your finger. It looks like it belongs there.

You check in the hallway to make sure no one is there before slipping out and heading to your car.

30 minutes after you left, your phone was blowing up, but you didn't care, just like Jake said, you made this choice for you.

And once your father and other brother heard the reason you left Bryce, let's just say it ended his campaign and the hope of him ever having a straight nose ever again.

You were racing against time now. Damn downtown traffic. You had to get to Jake before he left.

6:05 was the time on the clock when you checked it again, you were almost to the Seresin family ranch, you sped down the road praying you would make it in time and hoping he didn't leave early.

Jake looked at the time on his phone 6:25... he sighed thinking that you weren't coming.

At least he tried.

He climbed into the truck and cranked it. The engine roared to life. He shifted into reverse and as he looked back to check his mirror, he saw a cloud of dust coming up the drive.

"No way. No fucking way." He breathed out.

He jumped out of his truck just as you pulled in behind it sending gravel flying.

You hopped out and ran into his arms almost knocking him to the ground.

You wrapped your body around him and pulled his face down to yours. You kissed him with all the passion you had been holding back.

"Jake." You breathed out looking deep into his eyes.

"I can't believe you're here. Is this real?" He asked looking at you.

"You aren't dreaming fly boy, I'm real, I'm here." You assure him before he kisses you again.

"But... why?" He asks now looking confused.

"Because I never stopped loving you. And I deserve someone who loves me so much they would give up everything for me. I never forgave myself for not going after you last time. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice." You tell him as you hug him tightly.

"Baby, you don't know how happy this makes me. As soon as we get back to California I'm going to get you the biggest diamond ring and and turning in my wings. I made you that promise and i intendto keep it" Jake tells you.

"I don't want you to give up flying." You tell him.

"But you asked me if I would and I told you that I would if you came back to me." He says looking puzzled.

"Just knowing that you would is enough for me. And I know you love flying, I couldn't in good conscience ask you to hang it up... Hangman." You tease.

"And as far as a big diamond ring, I've had enough of those. This one will do for now." You say showing him his Navy ring on your hand.

He smiles the biggest smile you have ever seen, your heart could burst at how happy you are.

"Well darlin, if you've got your things, all that's left is to hop in the truck and go. What do you say?" He asks opening rhe passenger door. You grab your suitcase out of your car and he puts it in the truck, whatever you don't have your family can send you or you can buy. It doesn't matter as long as you are with Jake. You climb in, ready for this next adventure.

As he is about to drive away you pause. "Wait! I don't have a plane ticket!"

"Don't worry sweetheart, I already took care of that.' He says handing you two first class tickets to California.

"You already had the tickets? How did you know I was going to come back?" You ask him looking like the confused one now.

"I didn't, guess I was just hoping you would."

You both smile at each other before driving off into the sunset.

Tag List: @dreamingathighaltitude @shanimallina87 @luckyladycreator2 @meggiemoomitchell-deactivated20 @mak-32 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @rosiahills22 @thedroneranger @roosterforme

#top gun maverick #top gun #hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman top gun #lt. jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #top gun 2 #tgm fic #midnights #midnight rain

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