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i found a good boy, and he's on my side | lando norris smau
lando norris x reader | a little bit of best friend!oscar
summary: when y/n's ex writes a messy song about her, fans push for lando to break up with her (he doesn't even consider it)
fc: sabrina carpenter
kind of a part 2 to what a coincidence, but you don't have to read part 1 for this to make sense
warnings: non-existent angst, lando very much in love with y/n, very brief mention of cheating (not lando), maybe some typos
note: y/e = your ex
yourex
liked by user1 and 593,827 others
yourex Biting My Tongue out tonight
Finally sharing my truth
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user1 WE LOVE YOU Y/E
user2 ready for the tea 🍿
ynfan2 PLEASE LEAVE Y/N ALONE I BEG WE'RE OVER YOU
ynfan1 "sharing my truth" OHHHH BROTHER
user3 the y/n fans getting nervous
ynfan2 not nervous, sick of his lies
user2 perhaps y/n isn't as perfect as you think
user4 anyone else just here for the music
user5 @ yourusername YOU ARE SO OVER
♡
♡
yourusername
liked by landonorris, yourbff, and 1,138,827 others
yourusername leng
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ynfan2 UNBOTHERED QUEEN
user2 is she just pretending her ex didn't drop a shady song about her
user6 lando still in the likes ... this is so sad
yourbff your reminder to not wear the red top this weekend
yourusername you've seen my outfits already TRUST there's no red in sight
landonorris that's my girl
ynfan1 MOTHER IS GOING TO SILVERSTONE
user4 how has lando not dumped you yet
user5 you really don't deserve lando
user3 HAS LANDO HEARD THE SONG YET? DUMP HER!!!
ynfan3 what's with all the loser hate comments
landonorris my girlfriend is sooooo leng now come give me a kiss
yourusername calm down
yourusername on my way tho
♡
♡
landonorris
liked by oscarpiastri, yourusername, and 983,492
landonorris a little summer fun
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user1 JEALOUS
yourusername who's the baddie
landonorris that's my girlfriend mate back off
ynfan2 WHY ARE THEY LIKE THIS
user3 waiting for the dumping...
user4 crazy that they're still together
user8 i think some of y'all are a bit dramatic, the song wasn't even that bad and it's just his perspective
ynfan3 A LANDO FAN WITH A BRAIN
yourbff last pic i want her baddddd
landonorris so you don't want [redacted]'s number anymore?
yourbff WAIT I TAKE IT BACK
ynfan2 QUEEN Y/BFF FINALLY APPROVING OF ONE OF Y/N'S MEN
oscarpiastri you stole my best friend
yourusername we literally have plans next week
♡
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,293,283 others
yourusername is this thing on? 🎤
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ynfan1 MOTHER IN THE STUDIO!!!!!
ynfan2 the last pic has me crying 😭😭 i just know she's about to be a menace
user2 if she's actually making a response song that's kinda pathetic
user3 right? her fans all say y/e is using her for fame but she's also doing it
yourbff let me hear it first
oscarpiastri i better get the link first
landonorris ignore both of them, i get first dibs
user1 THE DRAMA if she's making a response song lando better get out of there quick before he's her next victim
user4 WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE
ynfan3 all these haters camping on y/n's post omg she's so famous
ynfan4 WE LOVE YOU Y/N IGNORE THE LOSERS
♡
♡
yourusername
liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 1,428,372 others
yourusername my turn🩷
surprise! planned to keep these in the vault, but i guess things change. 'vicious' and 'eternal sunshine' live performances out now on youtube! studio version out friday 💋
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landonorris proud of you love 🤍
yourusername 🧡🧡🧡
ynfan2 OH MY GOD NO WAYYYYYYY
ynfan3 "my turn🩷" THAT'S MOTHERRRRRRRRR
ynfan1 love lando supporting her through it all that's a good man
ynfan4 SHE SPILLED Y/E IS SO DONE
yourbff i love you so much!!!
yourusername love you!!
user3 these songs are really good ... sorry for hating before
user1 some of y'all switching up in the comments, she could be lying!!
ynfan5 perhaps i misinterpreted the lyrics, but did y/e CHEAT ON HER???
ynfan3 pretty sure 👀
♡
yourusername
liked by yourbff, landonorris, and 1,391,283 others
yourusername it doesn't get, doesn't get better than this 🧡
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yourbff LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH
ynfan4 THESE HAVE TO BE LYRICS
ynfan3 more lover girl music coming soon LET'S GOOOOOOO
ynfan2 y/n writing her two shady songs about y/e then going back to writing cheesy love songs for lando we love to see it
landonorris how i obsessively adore you 🤍
ynfan2 y'all they're quoting future lyrics right in front of our faces i just know it
user3 it's not looking like a break up any time soon
oscarpiastri answer my texts
yourusername sorry been busy 🤭
oscarpiastri disgusting
yourusername NOT LIKE THAT.
ynfan5 Y/NLANDO WILL ALWAYS PROSPER
♡
landonorris
liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1,028,832 others
landonorris we are never breaking up btw
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ynfan2 LMAOOOOOO
yourbff i'll have to break all of your bones if you ever hurt her
landonorris the scary thing is that i actually believe that you would
oscarpiastri hurt her and your life is over
landonorris DAMN DID Y'ALL READ THE CAPTION OR NO
user3 they're kinda growing on me y'all ...
ynfan4 everyone say we love you mom and dad
user4 worst news of my life
user2 i'm gonna be forced to like her this is terrible
yourusername thank god
landonorris if you leave me i think that i just might lose it completely
yourusername don't ever quote my songs at me again
#lando norris#f1#f1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1#lando norris x reader#lando norris au#lando x reader#lando norris smau#lando norris fluff#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x y/n#lando norris insta au
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feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort
nsfw under the cut, fem!reader
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Stan likes to call you:
sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk
calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.
✦ “c’mere, darlin’. can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”
✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart
✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. bein’ all worried like that. you’re killin’ me, kid.”
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ Ford likes to call you:
“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby
he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him
starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”
༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”
༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”
༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”
༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth
“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”
And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.
nsfw
what Stan says during sex:
“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”
“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”
“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”
“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”
“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout that pussy all week.”
“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”
“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”
Ford:
“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”
“I need you so much it scares me.”
“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”
“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”
“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”
“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”
“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”
“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”
“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”
“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”
“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”
“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”
“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”
#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls x you#stanford pines#x reader#gravity falls smut#stan pines smut#ford pines smut#ford pines x reader#gravity falls#stan pines x reader#Smut#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls headcanons#ford x reader#ford pines x you#stan pines x you#stan pines x oc#stanley pines x reader
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Name: Gooigi (again)
Debut: Luigi's Mansion (3DS)
When I was playing Luigi's Mansion 3 for the first time, I was thinking, "I sure love Gooigi. I wish I could write a Weird Mario Enemies post on him, but we already have one..." but I now realize! That post was written before the release of 3! We had no idea! No idea.
Who is the Mario character with the most fleshed-out backstory? Is it Mario, with his monolithic catalogue of media appearances? No, the insight we get into his past is simplistic at most. Is it Rosalina, with her beloved storybook? She comes close, I will admit, but there is someone who comes closer! Can you guess who it is? Can you guess the character I am hyping up in the post with a big image of Gooigi at its forefront? Yes, you can! It's Gooigi.
Indeed, Gooigi has seven entire pages of lore from the official website, written from the perspective of E. Gadd himself, explaining his origins, how he does what he does, WHY he does what he does, everything! You can read it here, and I'm not going to waste time repeating what was already said. I will just paraphrase: Goo is made from coffee mixed with ghost energy. Gooigi is the result of Luigi's digital data being zapped into it for a default form. Gooigi was sent back in time to Luigi's Mansion 1 for training and research purposes, and is now stored in a canister in the Poltergust G-00.
Got it? Good. Here is Baby Gooigi. How precious! Back before he had any Luigi in him at all. This is Goo in a human-shaped mold, and you may notice the mold itself has no face. Baby Gooigi learned how to express agony all on his own! It's no wonder they took a photo of this milestone!
Now with Super Mario Bros. Wonder, we have TWO gelatinous Luigis to choose from. And why not both? Gooigi is a separate entity, so Gooigi and Wubba Luigi can coexist! But not always... when playing Luigi's Mansion 3 single player, Luigi and Gooigi must be controlled separately. Luigi is able to will his consciousness into the doppelgangreener to control its movements, and it's here that it gets extra weird! Weird to the point that this game basically has multiple possible continuities?
Gooigi is NOT scared of ghosts, at all! He is an anomaly to them! This is very much "distinct character" behavior. But how is this the case if Luigi wills his soul into Gooigi? Well, both concepts are kind of true at the same time! As we can see here, cutscenes will actually change depending on if the game is in single-player or co-op play, portraying different events! Really really weird! It's like if Schroedinger's Cat was a pair of funny green men, one with bones and organs, and one translucent. So what is the truth...? (Spoilers for Luigi's Mansion 3 ahead...)
In the ending, even in single-player mode, Gooigi is portrayed as his own sentient character! Even though this contradicts the "consciousness transfer" lore, I think this is the "true" intention for him. It's much more fun and less awkward if he can be active at the same time as Luigi! I also don’t think they care that much about minor gameplay features being lore-compliant, since Polterpup got pupils in the end of the second game, and those were removed in 3 without explanation.
Unfortunately, as the hotel crumbles after King Boo's defeat, Gooigi falls from the top floor and dies.
He even says "bye-bye" before the fall. I can't believe this. How could Nintendo allow something so upsetting? They thought it was okay to let Gooigi say "bye-bye" rather than "goo-dbye"? That has "goo" in it! It would have been perfect. (I am not actually upset by this at all and "bye-bye" is more in character)
After splattering on the pavement he reforms, because duh. He's goo. You can test this for yourself! Scoop a glob of mayonnaise out of the jar with your hand. Next, travel to the top of a skyscraper. Finally, drop the mayonnaise off of the side! When it hits the ground, it will not have died. Science Fact!
As silly it may be, I was a bit worried Gooigi might die for real, even though that wouldn't make any sense to happen. I was just thinking of modern Paper Mario, introducing new buddies only to take them away by the end. But I should have known that Luigi's Mansion is not at all like that! This is the series where they gave Luigi a dog, and that was that. We don't see Polterpup as often as we should, but it cannot be argued! Luigi has a dog. What would stop them from keeping Gooigi around? Nothing, that's what! He stays with E. Gadd, and is not going anywhere!
Just like Polterpup, I would love to see Gooigi more, though. I would love for him to be Luigi's answer to Metal Mario! Gooigi driving a kart! I don't care that he dies in water, and I don't think Nintendo would care too much either. I would like to leave you off with The Big Question. This is a new, distinct character, who is "genetically" similar to Luigi. As such.
#gooigi#luigi#luigi’s mansion#luigi’s mansion 3#mario#mario allies#mod chikako#weird mario all-stars
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Hallow's eve
Oneshot; exes drew x yn
Summary: drew wasn’t the type to get jealous. And tonight, on hallow’s eve, is his first time experiencing this bitter emotion.
Genre: exes to lovers, smut, angst, fluff
Warnings: cursing, unprotected sex, etc
⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read
♡⸝⸝ happy halloween!
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“You can’t be fucking serious,”
Drew laughs bitterly, his eyes landing on you.
The light blue corset, leathered mini-skirt, police badge, duty belt, and bunny ears are all too recognizable to him. A seducing touch to the costume of Judy Hopps from Zootopia. It shows off your curves beautifully, everything about it made you look more sensual than usual.
But the main reason for his bitterness isn’t because of your costume, rather…who you’re matching with.
His friend Paul. Whose wearing what was supposed to be Drew’s, the Nick Wilde costume.
Fuck. It’s been a month since the breakup, and you show up with his friend?
“Shit, did you know about this?”
Drew forces his eyes away from you, turning the Keith. His lips are pursed, clenching on his jaw tightly. All the emotions are coming back to him all at once; regret, anger, and confused. “Does it look like I know?” He doesn’t even try to hide the sourness in his voice.
Keith nervously glances to the side; he knows Drew isn’t over you. Hell, Drew didn’t even try to get over you, and everyone knew it. Dated for a year…how is one suppose to forget about that? “Shit man…”
Drew sighs, turning his gaze back to you. He hasn’t seen you for a whole month…and you looked beautiful.
And Drew of course knew how much he missed you, shit, everything he did he thought of you. Waking up? Why weren’t you in his bed. Showering? Why weren’t you helping him wash his hair. Eating? Why weren’t you sitting in the seat beside him.
And seeing you hold Paul’s hand, greeting others with a soft smile; that should be him standing beside you.
“They’re…probably not even together,” Keith tries to make the situation look better than it is.
Then, while you’re talking to someone dressed as a mummy, Paul distracts himself by planting kisses along your jaw. “Not together, huh?” Drew snickers at the audacity of Paul, doing that to you. He should know better than to touch what’s his.
Drew’s whole costume feels annoying now. Obviously, breaking up with you meant having no costume. So, he improvised to dress up as Patrick Bateman, from American Psycho.
He shrugs the clear raincoat off, hanging it on a random coat hanger that happens to be in a kitchen. He loosens his tie, pouring himself another round of drinks.
When Drew glances at Keith, he sees a sly smile on his face. What the fuck-
“You’re jealous, man.”
Jealous? To Drew, it was an ugly and immature emotion. Only insecure people feel that way. Drew wasn’t insecure, god no.
No. That just wasn’t who Drew was, to be jealous.
Besides, what’s there to be jealous of? He knows you too well, you’re definitely just bitter. Because out of all his friends, you hate Paul the most.
His mind was just playing tricks on him.
But fuck- how much he wanted to punch Paul still, and claim the spot next to you.
“No,” Drew laughs it off, sounding as if he’s being held at gunpoint. He downs the drink in his hand in one sip, and says more firmly this time, “no.”
Keith raises an eyebrow at him; obviously not believing his friend. “Nah, you jealous. Jealous that Paul gets all that now.”
Ew. That thought disgusts Drew. “Fuck off-“
Someone yells for a game of truth or dare in the living room. Drew’s eyes immediately find themselves on you, even with the huge amount of costumes in here. Paul ushers you to join; reluctantly, you follow him.
Seems like Drew’s also playing.
——
Amidst the loud Halloween party, a game of truth or dare begins. Refusing to answer or do the dare, results in a penalty drink.
Paul’s hand on your thigh makes you want to throw up. You hated this guy; why, out of anyone, did you ask him to be your date?
Your stupid pride got the worst of you, refusing to show up at the party alone, especially with the chance of seeing Drew. You suspected that he must have moved on, so you decided to show how ‘well’ you were doing.
Wrong. Everyone close to you knew how many sleepless nights you’ve had in the last month, depressed and withered away in your room. Really, getting ready tonight was an impossible task too.
Paul is…disrespectful, awkward, inappropriate, the list goes on. He’s not close with Drew; but still, it bothered you that he was always at hangouts. Once, he made a move on you (a rather rude, pushy one) while you were still with Drew.
Yep. Now thinking back, you would’ve preferred to come alone instead of with this prick.
“You good?”
Yeah, if you take your hand off me. “Lovely,” you manage to breathe out, focusing your gaze at the circle that has now formed in the living room.
Your eyes land on Drew; pulling a random chair and sitting down, manspreading. He never looked finer, in his American Psycho costume. And plus, his hair. The last time you saw him, he had bangs. Not that this new buzzcut looked bad; it gave a whole new demeanor to Drew, one that was more matured.
Wow. Looking at him, you realize how much you miss him. You wanted to go sit next to him, run your hands through his buzzcut, and just talk to him, hear his deep, calming voice.
Shit. He makes eye contact with you, and for the first time, you can’t tell what’s on his mind. Is he mad? Regretful? Or does he…even care? You watch as his eyes scan down your body, lingering longer on your legs. Or rather, Paul’s hand there.
“Alright…who wants to go first?” Some person you don’t know, speaks up, sitting down on the couch.
The eye contact breaks, with Drew turning his face away, drinking the cup in his hand.
Huh.
Someone volunteers for a dare, but you don’t show much interest. This is a stupid game anyways.
During the game, Paul would whisper something dirty in your ear, which honestly, pissed you off more. When he kissed your jaw earlier, that was already crossing the line. But you could feel someone watching you intensively, so you go along with it; smiling, whispering back, responding to his touches. You hoped that someone would call on you, just so you could leave Paul’s side for a while.
And as if some angel heard you, halfway through the game-
“Drew, truth or dare?”
That caught your attention, but you try not to show it. You make subtle glances in his direction, wondering what he was going to chose.
“Dare,” his voice is deep, just like how you last remembered it.
The person asking was his friend, Keith. He hung around so much, that you can easily recognize the mischievous glint in his eyes; he’s gonna say something crazy.
You’re right; because he says, “7 minutes in heaven. With y/n.”
The people in the circle all murmur and woo, in anticipation. Great. Was there anyone here that didn’t know about the breakup?
You can’t help but smile down at your lap, at how ridiculous this dare is. Surely, Drew wouldn’t say yes, right? You couldn’t tell; his face showed no emotion towards that dare.
“Say no, alright?” Paul’s disgusting voice forces you to look over at him.
Did you want to say no?
You take a good look at Paul’s face; maybe saying no isn’t the worst idea. Being locked somewhere awkward with Drew sounded better than…actually, better than anything.
Suddenly, you feel a heavy presence standing close to you. And when you look over, it’s Drew. He stands in front of you, and he holds out a hand for you to take.
You look up at his face, hints of eagerness only you could notice. He nods gently towards his hand, telling you to take it.
“Yo dude, she doesn’t wants to go-“
You take it. Your hand comes in contact with the familiar warmth, the hands that you always found comfort in. You let him pull you out of Paul’s arms, a little too rough, and you stumble a bit.
You smile awkwardly, holding onto his hand hard to regain your balance. “Hey, I’ll be here waiting for you,” Paul continues to say.
“Sure,” you force out, adjusting your skirt. Deep down, you’ve never been more glad to be rescued by Drew.
——
He’s walking at a fast pace, and with his grip on your hand tight, you can tell how urgent he is. His patience slips away with each tug he gives to each door he passes by, occupied by strangers already.
“Maybe we should just give up-“
The last door is budged opened, and when the two of you glance inside, it’s empty.
“Great,” you murmur awkwardly, before forcing your hand out of his. You don’t want to do so; but given the current situation between you two, it’ll feel weird if you continue to hold his hand.
You brush past him into the small bedroom, and sit yourself on the bed. This bunny headband was getting itchy, so you take it off, putting it beside you.
You watch as Drew locks the door behind him, sliding his suit jacket off. Woah, woah, woah, is he stripping? “Um…what are you doing?”
His blue eyes stare blankly into yours; as he lazily rolls his sleeves up. “the walking, it gets hot.”
Oh. He…yeah, it might get too hot from all the fast walking. Why would he strip? Drew wasn’t that kind of person, what were you thinking? You look down at your lap; embarrassed of your own thoughts.
Well…this is awkward. The only sound in here was the faint music from downstairs.
And then Drew sits down on the bed, next to you. The mattress dips under his weight, his scent (he smells real good) hitting you, and just his overall presence.
That damn buzzcut. What even motivated him to get his entire head shaved? You were curious; and you wanted to know what happened to him in the past month. Was he also miserable like you? Or did he forget about everything-
“Paul, huh?”
He’s leaned forward; so you can’t really tell his expressions. But his voice comes out deep and almost hushed, like he needed to force it out.
Your heart was beating fast, why were you nervous? It was just Drew; you’ve dated him for a year, known him for more than that. Yet, every action and word he says can still made you flustered. “Well, he has a thing for me.”
Was that the right response? You weren’t sure; Drew answers a few seconds later, “I know,” you watch his back muscles through his see-through button up tense, “just didn’t know you had a thing for him.”
Almost forgot how well he knew you. “People can change,” you shrug, trying to act cool.
That earns a ‘tsk’ of disapproval from him, and he leans back. He turns towards you; the pretty blue of his eyes staring into yours. “Not you.”
“Could say the same about you,” you bitterly reply, referring to the breakup. It was out of character for him to just dump you, saying he was ‘busy’. A dick move, to be honest.
Drew rolls his eyes upward; as if thinking of a response. His lips are slightly pursed; and you see the amusement in them.
“Am I wrong?” You press, and suddenly, the depression from the past month has surfaced into anger. Anger towards Drew. “You have no right to say that-“
“You’re dating Paul,” he emphasizes on the last part, his eyebrows furrowed at you. “Paul, for god’s sake.”
You shake your head, a sour smile on your lips. The anger inside of you begs to be released, and as a way of spreading it out, you stand up. So mad, you can’t even sit still. “So what? Why do you care, we broke up-“
“A month, only for a month!” He raises his voice slightly louder than yours, and he also stands up now. This escalated fast. “And Paul. Are you fucking serious?”
“Yes I am! More than ever, you got a problem with that?” You provoke, the two of you standing in less than a meter from each other. He stares down at you, and even with your angered mind, his proximity still drives you insane. “Let’s not forget that you dumped me-“
“You’re dating Paul?” He asks once again, realizing that you didn’t correct him from earlier. His face shows it all; betrayal and disgust.
You laugh at him, rather distastefully, “Do you not hear yourself right now? You’re worried about that-“
“You dating him or not?”
He just stays in place, towering over you. That question lingers in the air, his jealousy heavy. He watches you, and you see a mixture of longing and frustration in them. He’s practically begging you with his eyes at this point.
The devil on your shoulder pushes you to lie, “we’ve been seeing each other.”
He immediately steps away from you, pacing around the room with his hands running through his scalp. He turns back around to you, but stands at a distance now, “y/n, what the fuck-“
“Why are you getting mad at me?” You yell back, your voice cracking.
“I don’t believe you,” he harshly denies, shaking his head.
Fights with Drew was never like this; he would apologize quickly and fix the problem. Tonight? You might’ve just pissed him off to the point of no return.
You tuck your hair behind your ears, before placing them on your hips firmly. “Well, that’s the truth, whether you like it or not-“
“I don’t fucking believe you, y/n,” he denies once again.
“You saw him around me, what else do you-“
“I don’t believe you,” he repeats, closing the distance between the two of you again. You gulp at his presence towering over you; this time, there’s an edge to his demeanor. Knowing that you lied, it felt dangerous to be standing this close to him. “You’re bluffing, I know it.”
The sharpness in his eyes glints with challenge, searching for the truth in yours. He won’t be easily swayed; he knew you too well.
You cock your head to the side, the same challenge in your eyes that mirrors back to him. You don’t miss it; the jealously in his. He’s jealous right now!
No wayyy he’s jealous. Years you’ve known him; never once have you seen him jealous. Drew was that kind of person; unbothered and sure about himself. At first it frustrated you, it seemed like he didn’t care. But you soon learned that it just meant he trusted you, never questioning about your friendships or interactions.
But still, he’s jealous right now! For the very first time! And you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t tease him about it. C’mon, this man was jealous of Paul. How cute. “You’re jealous,” you say, failing to hide the amusement in your tone. “You’re fucking jealous right now-“
“No,” he firmly denies it.
“Yes, you are. You, Drew Starkey, is jealous-“
“I’m not fucking-“
“Yes! You’re jealous!” You point out, a bit too cheerful at that. You almost forget that you’re suppose to be angry at him, “You’re bitter that it’s not you-“
“Gosh, you’re driving me insane,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. “I don’t feel that way-“
“Oh, you totally are,” you say, taking a few steps back and snickering. Gosh, this is fun to make fun of. “Drew Starkey’s jealous for the first time-“
Drew’s lips come in contact with yours, his tongue thrusting into yours urgently.
Woah.
You didn’t even realize he had closed the gap again; his hands cupping your face to trap you into him. You hit his chest to push him away; but the longer his lips attach to yours, the softer your hits were.
Alcohol. You taste that on his lips, pretty sure yours too.
Yet, like a second nature, your body and brain reacts to Drew in a submissive way, kissing him back. You can’t help it; the warmth of his hands on either sides of your face, his soft lips…everything about him. Everything about him is endearing to you.
In this moment, you realized you could never truly get over Drew. And quite frankly, you don’t want to.
He pulls away, but his hands still remain on your face. “I’m not jealous,” he murmurs, his lidded-eyes gazing down at your lips then back your eyes. His chest under your touch rises and falls, the beat of his heart fast.
The urge to fight or tease him disappears; you just want to be in his presence, in his touch, feeling the warmth of him. As if it could solve all your problems.
“Shut up,” you breathe out, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him.
Drew immediately kisses you back; never been more glad to be ordered to shut up. His hands move down your body, until they come in contact with the strings at the back of your corset.
You feel him struggling with undoing it; probably distracted by your lips on his.
Gosh, was it so hard to undo a couple of strings?
You force him onto the bed, and he immediately readjusts himself to a nice position. You quickly put your hands behind you and untie the strings, while Drew undos his own tie, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Was that so hard?” You tease him, letting the corset fall off you. Drew’s mouth is slightly opened as his eyes drift lower down to your naked chest; his fixated gaze giving you a confidence boost.
“Mmhm,” he lazily replies; hands pull you into his lap by the waist. His lips attach them to yours again, and your hands work on unbuttoning his shirt. He kisses down your neck, laying love bites on it.
“Shit…” you moan. Drew’s lips were skilled, and they knew where you liked it.
His hands knead your breasts, just as you got his last button undone. Your hands roam around his chest, abs, then coming back up to run through his scalp. Huh. It’s gonna take some time to get used to no hair to tug on.
His lips move down to your chest, and he starts to suck on your nipples. He fully makes out with them; his tongue sloppily tugging and devouring them in. It sends pleasure down to your core; and you start to rub against him, feeling the material of his pants harden.
“Drew…” you voice out, hands feeling his scalp. It feels, weird and comfortable.
He pulls away, his chest heavy as he looks up at you with hungry eyes. “Yeah?”
“Lay back,” you order, wiping the saliva that drips down the side of his lips.
Drew gulps, before nodding. His hands remove themselves from you, hurriedly discards his shirt, and he scoots himself further down the bed. You get the clear look of his boner through his pants; damn.
Your hands go to undo your duty belt; when they come in contact with metal chains.
Huh? You look down and see, that it was the handcuffs you got for Judy Hopps’ character.
The dirtiest idea pops up in your mind, and you look back up at Drew with a smile. His eyes are squinted at you, eyebrows furrowed. The two of you share a look; and then he shakes his head in disapproval. “No. I’m not getting handcuffed.”
This was never tried over the course of your relationship with him, and now that the opportunity presented itself, you had to try. You pout, taking the metal chains in your hands. You dip onto the bed, crawling between his spread legs. “Please, baby. It’ll be fun,” you flirtatiously say, your hand crawling up his thigh. “I’ll make it feel good.”
“You always make me feel good,” he murmurs, his arms tucked behind his head.
“Pretty please then?” Your hand comes in contact with his boner, and you grip it through his pants.
He moans under your touch, his mind fighting the battle to not be seduced by you.
You knew how much Drew liked to touch you, always having his arm around you either lovingly and protectively. He took pride in being the person that gets to touch you whenever he wants and wherever. So of course, he wouldn’t be so happy to be handcuffed.
You swing the handcuffs, giving him a soft smile.
After a few seconds, he moans again, this time out of frustration, “fine. Do it.”
You smile ear-to-ear, happy that he agreed. You straddle his waist, as he offers his hands to you. You fasten one around his wrist, the material digging slightly into his skin. “Does it hurt?” You murmur, even though you were already moving onto his other hand.
“I’m good,” he assures you, and when you glance down, you see that your breasts are directly in front of his face, a distraction provided. You shake your head, a soft smile on your lips as you bring both handcuffed wrists and hook it on the headboard.
You ignore the kisses he trails on your chest; and tug on his hands to make sure it stays there. “Hey, stop it,” you warn him, before getting off.
By instinct, he tugs his wrists wanting to keep you atop of him, but the handcuffs stop him. “Ride me, c’mon,” he whines, getting impatient with the restraints of his hands. Look, you haven’t even started and he’s already whining.
Drew looks very hot in this angle; usually in charge, to be in a position where he physically couldn’t do anything.
You giggle, undoing the duty belt and shimmying your skirt off. You lean forward between his legs, looking up at him with intrigued eyes. “Have some patience, baby,” the nickname drives him crazy, throwing his head back in frustration.
His reaction makes you grin. You can see the struggle on his face—wanting to be annoyed but unable to resist the pull of your playful teasing. It’s the kind of tension that makes your heart race, as your hands go and undo his belt.
The belt comes off, next was the zipper, then his pants. You tug it down to his knees, his dick piercing through his boxers. It’s begging to be sucked by you.
You pull it down, his dick practically springing out. “Fuck,” you moan, leaning down close to it.
Drew thrusts his hips, making the tip hit your nose. You look up at him, furrowing your eyebrows. You didn’t like how impatient he is right now, “stay still.”
“Sorry,” he murmurs, biting down on his bottom lip. “You look pretty from this angle, though.”
You give him a smug smile, before opening your mouth and taking his tip in. He immediately groans at that, as your mouth moves lower.
The tug of the handcuffs is heard, as well as Drew saying, “wanna touch you.”
You smirk against his dick, one hand gripping on his thigh, another one going up to his balls. You massage one side; while your mouth skillfully takes Drew in.
But Drew decides to take a step further, and thrusts his hip upward. That makes you gag; his tip hitting almost the back of your mouth. You immediately pull your mouth out, “stay still,” you say, more firmly this time. “Or I’ll leave, and you’ll stay here handcuffed.”
Another tug of his handcuffs, “didn’t mean to.”
“Be a good boy and stay still, okay?” The lust, tipsiness, combined with Drew’s vulnerable situation serves as a huge boost to your confidence.
“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs, relaxing his entire body now. You’re in charge now; the handcuffs remind him of that.
You give him a glare as a warning; you don’t miss the small curl at the corner of his lips. You take him in again, your hand squeezing his balls gently. You start to bop your head up and down, tongue wrapping and sucking his dick.
“Shit,” you hear him groan, “just like that, babe.”
His soft moans ensure you that you’re doing a great job, as well as the occasional tugs of the handcuffs, his hands dying to touch you. Your head bops faster with each passing second, the pleasure of sucking his cock pooling in your undies too.
It’s when you feel his cock twitch inside your mouth, you pull away.
“Babe, what?” He manages to breathe out, he couldn’t believe that you just denied him of an orgasm.
That nickname sends a bigger impact to your core than it should’ve. You sit up and lean forward, planting a sloppy kiss against his lips. He kisses back immediately, eager and needy. You pull away, “didn’t know you were this whiny.”
He forms a small frown, which makes you giggle, “I’ll let you cum, stop whining,” you kiss along his neck, down his chest, abs, and stopping right before his dick. “You got a condom?”
“You think I planned this?’ He tugs on his handcuffs. Right. He definitely wasn’t planning on fucking his ex-girlfriend.
You get off the bed, rummaging the nightstands, hoping for condoms to be here. Nope. “Fuck,” you frustratedly groan, pushing your hair to one side. “Now what?”
That question lingers in the air, the two of you staring at each other. No condom, and two horny adults. There was only one solution. No, two solutions. But who in their right mind would suggest that one-
“Raw,” Drew speaks up.
“Raw?” You’ve never gone raw before; the risks of it overpowering the pleasure of it. You glance that Drew, seeing how calm he was to suggest that. Then at his dick, which was still erected.
“Unless you want to go back downstairs.”
Oh god. You didn’t want to; you wanted to have sex with Drew. But you had to be honest; the idea of raw sex was terrifying.
“Y/n?” His blue eyes meet yours, “sit down first.”
You sit back down beside him, placing your hand on his lower stomach. “Raw?” You’re more asking yourself, yet you look at Drew’s face.
Drew. Going raw with Drew. Drew. Not some random guy. The Drew that you’ve found yourself get really into. Okay. Maybe if you two didn’t break up a month ago, you would’ve gotten to that point with him anyways, right?
“You okay?” He asks gently.
You give him a soft smile, getting yourself between his legs yet again. “Can’t be any different than a condom, right?”
He smirks at your agreement of this, “hope so.”
You lean forward and give him a quick peck on the lips. “Stretch yourself out first,” he reminds, looking down towards your core. You take your underwear off, sitting back and spreading your legs. It gives Drew the clear view of your pussy; and he groans at that. “Need help?”
He tugs on his handcuffs. Pretty sure it’ll bruise his wrists if he continues to move against them. The sly smile on his lips tell you everything; “I got it,” you assure him.
You line two fingers against yourself; and then put it in. “Shit,” you groan at how wet you are already; thrusting your fingers in slowly.
You can’t help but compare your own fingering to Drew’s; finding his more satisfying to your core. Nevertheless, you stretch yourself out just like Drew says, picking the pace after a few seconds. “Fuck,” you hear him groan; and after a couple of sloppy thrusts, you pull out, finding yourself stretched.
“Good?” He asks, watching as you straddle yourself on his waist again.
“Perfect,” you practically purr, leaning forward and kissing him. You feel his smile against your lips; him kissing you back tenderly.
You pull away and look down; aligning yourself with his dick. Shit.
You sink down, feeling his cock enter you slowly. You moan loudly at the feeling; no barriers between the two anymore. When you sit down fully, you’re sure his tip hits the back of your core.
Drew throws his head back in pleasure, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Feels real good,” he murmurs, his eyes fluttering to stay open.
You giggle gently at his reaction; and you raise your hips, ready to start moving. You move up, then slide back down on him. “Shit,” you curse, the sensation unreal.
Raising your hips again, you start riding him, at an unusual slow pace. Your nails dig into his shoulders, transferring the pain there. “Wanna touch you,” he voices out, tugging on the handcuffs.
“You touch me all the time,” you hum, continuing to slam yourself up and down him. He groans at that, a knowing smile on his lips.
“Touch yourself for me, then,” he thrusts his hip upwards, causing you to moan at the friction.
You do as told; bringing your hands up to your breasts and squeezing them while bouncing. You’ve never felt this much pleasure; the feeling of Drew watching you while you ride him, your hands all over while you imagine it being him.
The sound of skin slapping, heavy moans, and the tugs of Drew’s cuffs fill the room, as well as the rising temperature in here. This sex experience reminds you just how much you and Drew are compatible for each other; easily kinky and fond together.
You feel the familiar hotness fill up your core, your movements getting more sloppy. “Close?” He asks, sounding breathless.
“Yes,” you moan, your hands back around his shoulders.
Drew leans himself upwards with his upper body, and he gives you a messy kiss. His kiss sends you over the ledge; and you feel the knot coming undone. He pulls away with a smug smile, “came all over my cock.”
“Shut up,” you smile, pulling him back and kissing him again. You liked kissing him more than you should.
“Hey, can you undo these for me?” He tugs on the handcuffs for the nth time tonight.
“Should I?” You cock your head playfully to the side. He playfully thrusts upwards towards your core, and you groan at that. “Fuck, Drew.”
“C’mon, undo me,” he begs, his blue eyes staring teasingly into yours.
Gosh, this man. It’s unfair how attractive he is, from his looks to his actions. Everything, just touches your heart. You pull out of him, the stickiness around your legs don’t feel as gross as they should. But you do miss the warmth of him, feeling bit empty.
You search around for your duty belt; grabbing it off the floor. It had three little compartments around it, and you rummage around each one. The cheap material makes it hard to open each.
“Babe, you’re taking forever,” you hear him behind you.
You ignore his comment; working your way to the last one. Surely the key had to be in the last one, right?
Is it; and you throw the belt back down, turning back to him. “Were you always this impatient?” You ask, unlocking both of his wrists.
The handcuffs shoot down as soon as you’re done; and he flips you under him in one fast motion. You let out a shriek, not expecting to be pinned in mere seconds. He looks down at you with a small smirk, “my turn.”
“What?” You let out a nervous giggle, his hold on your wrists tightening.
You let out a loud gasp when he shrinks his length down into your core; pushing it fully in at once. Shit, shit, shit. His lips attach themselves to your neck, leaving love bites, eventually moving down lower. “Drew,” you manage to breathe out despite feeling the weight of him down on you.
“Yeah?” He mumbles against your skin, one hand intertwining with yours.
“…feels good,” you admit, even though it was unexpected to be pinned down. Having his cock fully in you; felt like heaven. Now, he’s gonna give you your second orgasm of the night; halloween? Must be Christmas.
“I’know,” he kisses your jaw, his other hand now kneading your breasts. “Besides, haven’t cummed yet.”
Oh. You were consumed with chasing your own orgasm, you didn’t realize that Drew hasn’t had his yet.
Drew starts to push his body into yours, picking up the pace after each thrust. He hits your exact g-spots, knowing your body all too well. You moan loudly in his ear, mixed in with his. Just like that, your second orgasm slowly forms.
“Shit,” he curses, his hands locking tightly with yours.
Okay, raw sex definitely felt better than condom ones. Or was it because it’s Drew? Either way, you want to do this more, honestly. Maybe the handcuffs too.
“Close, Drew,” you breathe out between thrusts.
“Same, babe,” he kisses your cheek.
The knot comes undone for the second time tonight, and you cum over his dick. At the same time, you feel it twitch inside you; his turn.
Drew gets ready to pull out, but you hurriedly wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Cum inside me,” you urge him, wanting to feel yourself filled with his orgasm.
Drew gives you a lazy smile, lips leaning towards yours. And this kiss, was more endearing, his tongue moving in a soft tempo. He cums, and you feel the warmth of him mixing with yours.
You smile back against his lips; you’ve never had such mind-blowing sex.
He eventually pulls out of you, reaching for the tissues on the nightstand. You let him clean you up, leaning against the headboard; the two of you staying silent to recover from what just happened.
And slowly, the realization of what happened, fogs up the both of your minds. Lust is gone, now only left with clarification. Clarification of what’ll be next, between the two of you.
“Drew?” You speak up, as he finishes and cleans himself up quickly, throwing it in the trash after.
He sits by your legs, his blue eyes looking up and meeting yours. “I miss you.” That confession catches you off guard. You gulp, looking down at your lap. “I’m sorry,” he adds, voice cracking.
Your heart aches at that; and you feel him move to the spot besides you. He pulls the covers up, covering the both of you. “I’m sorry,” he repeats once again, “I’m, I’m a stupid fuck.”
“You are,” you agree, still looking down and playing with your fingers.
“I just…we dated for a year. And, I just got scared?” The last part was almost as if he also didn’t believe himself for feeling that way.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, just…something I feel. But I realized, not being with you was worse,” his hands wrap around yours, and you look up at him. His blue eyes are mixed with regret, sincerity, and…love. Well, at least you interpret it that way.
“Took a month away from me to realize that?”
“Yes. I think that just shows how idiotic I am. Trust me, the past month was horrible.”
You giggle, “you can’t just dump me whenever you feel like it.”
“First and last time,” he promises.
“What?” You look at him questionably.
“If you’ll take me back.”
Do you want to take Drew back? Your mind was screaming no, but your heart was telling you to spend forever with him. He really hurt you, and he really is an idiot. But he’s your idiot. And one year of dating has told you that he does make stupid decisions, coming to regret them later.
Fuck it. You always listened to your heart anyways. “Fine, if you insist,” you playfully say, your hands intertwining with his again. You missed holding onto these hands. Then, your eyes drop to his wrists, seeing the red spots around them. “Drew, those handcuffs-“
Drew’s other hand cups your face, and he sends an attack of his kisses to your cheek. You laugh loudly at that, which just drives him to give you more. “Hey-“ he kisses your lips, the two of you leaning down until your backs hit the mattress.
“I…”
“Hmm?” You stare into his eyes. He stares at you all smitten, his lips slightly open in awe.
“I…love you,” he confesses.
Oh. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fight to get out, and you let them. You love Drew. Yeah, you love Drew. After everything you’ve been through with him, you deserved to be loved, to be loved by him. “I love you more,” you emphasize on the last word.
“Fuck,” he kisses you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer into his arms. “Driving me insane. Insane, y’know that?”
“I’know,” you giggle, the two of you staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. You’ve never felt happier. And when your hands run through his scalp; you’re reminded of his buzzcut. “Hey, why did you shave your hair?”
“It got annoying,” he rubs circles around your waist, “and, well, I missed you.”
“so you shaved your hair?”
“…yeah,” suddenly he gets shy, burying his face into your neck. You smile at that, feeling like he’s a little baby.
After a few seconds, he murmurs against your neck. “Hey, y’know what you should dress up as next year?”
“Next year already?” You look down at him, him looking back up at you.
“Yeah,” he pulls away, “Lola bunny.”
Lola bunny? Wasn’t that the cartoon character? From Loony tunes? You furrow your eyebrows at Drew, “why?”
He gives you a grin, “kinda…my childhood crush.”
“Really?” This is the first time he’s telling you this; and you can’t help but grow amused at that. Lola bunny? Maybe that can explain why he’s so weird sometimes. Cute weird. “Will you be my Bugs then?”
“Of course,” he immediately says, “not Paul, that’s for sure.”
Paul. You’re suddenly reminded of that gross man you asked to come with you; and also of Drew’s jealously. Hey, he’s jealous! That thought is bought up in your mind once again, thanks to Drew himself. What girlfriend would you be if you didn’t tease him about it? “Oh, you were so jealous.”
“Jealous? No,” he denies, even with the small smirk on his lips.
“So it’s okay if I see Paul-“
“We’re together, now. Like, literally a few seconds ago,” he cuts you off. “Screw Paul. Or any other guy.”
“That’s jealousy,” you smile, pointing at his face.
He bites on your finger, causing you to shriek and put your finger down. “Just love you a lot.”
Your heart warms at that; but it doesn’t change your mind about how jealous he was. “Drew, you don’t need to be jealous. I’m yours.”
He chuckles, “I’m not jealous!”
Okay. He might never admit it. His pride, and his overall aura, jealousy just won’t be something he wants to bow down to.
“Of course,” you rest your chin on his forehead. “Of course.”
“I wasn’t jealous!” He continues to hum.
“Shhh,” you coo at him, rubbing the skin around his shoulders, which feel firm yet soft. Your eyes are falling heavy, and in Drew’s arms, you knew you could get some comfortable sleep. The first time; for the past month.
You close your eyes, ready to drift to sleep, when Drew says, “I think we went over 7 minutes.”
“Huh?” You lazily reply, your brain ready to turn off.
“Nothing.”
That was the end of the conversation; and you drifted off to sleep, knowing that Drew was beside you. The familiar scent of him dozes you off, and you feel safe knowing he’s going to be taking care of you.
Lola bunny. Maybe you should dress up like her next year, fulfill Drew’s nasty fantasies. Huh. Maybe.
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word count: 6.6k
ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: petition for drew to be patrick bateman 🙋♀️
happy halloween! what are you dressing up as??? hope you enjoyed this oneshot, kinky and got really sweet in the end. pls ignore any mistakes; i hate proofreading. anyways, happy halloween! ik im already looking forward to christmas ;)
#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey x reader#x reader#drew starkey x you#oneshot#smut#angst#fiction#fluff#exes to lovers#kinktober
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21 maxiel
Mini fic / Ficlet prompts (Open & extremely slow)
21. Things you said when we were on top of the world Max/Daniel | 794 words | Rating: Mature
Everything is cherry red. Max’s flushed cheeks. Lips glistening. He’s leaning against the side of someone’s candy-painted convertible and eye fucking Danny over the rim of a warm beer. He’s a shade more than sun-kissed, wearing a tight t-shirt he’d ripped the sleeves off of that morning, his normal khaki shorts, and a Dodge HEMI baseball cap with flames licking up the sides. Turned backward of course.
There’s a forbidden fruit metaphor in all this that Danny chooses not to dwell on. He’s buzzed, high on the killer set they played earlier and thinking about that rainbow pack of condoms back at the shitty motel they’d copped for the night. They’d already used the red one, a shame really, but the sunset is painting the sky crimson behind Max and maybe that is enough poetic bullshit for the night.
Max turns to look at him and it’s like a laser pointer, one of those annoying ones that kids shine in your eyes and you have to look away or risk damaging your retinas. Everything with Max is like that. Intense, focused, and for Danny—inescapable.
He must look away too soon, a beer bottle raised to meet his lips as he studies the chipped paint of an ancient Subaru, because Max’s voice tickles his ear a moment later.
Little shit is too fucking silent and sneaky when he wants to be.
“Are you pissed at me or something?” Max asks, and Danny doesn’t get it. Not until he pauses and examines his own expression in the side mirror of the truck he’s leaning on. He looks irritated, more than the slight itch under his skin of general impatience, he tells his face to chill out.
“Nah, we’re good Maxy.” Danny turns a smile on him and Max’s frown deepens. “I mean it, the set was amazing. You played like a god. Everything was perfect. Is perfect.” He’s staring into Max’s blue eyes when he says it, it’s earnest and open and a truth Daniel can force past his lips.
“It can be more perfect.” Max finally relaxes, Danny can see the angle of his shoulders drop a few degrees, and he smirks. He’s also thinking about the rainbow pack of condoms. Danny doesn’t need to be a mind reader to know that.
“What color?” Danny asks and Max blushes, crimson blossoming on his cheeks. There’s that damn red again. He’s haunted by it.
“Maybe green or purple, like that lollipop I had earlier.” Max licks his lips and it’s fucking obscene and Danny wants to suck on his tongue, imagines tasting that grape sucker he’d been downright lewd about eating during their acoustic set at the label’s tent.
Danny had gone through two bottles of water, chugging one and dumping one on his head trying to keep from tenting the crotch of his skinny jeans in front of a live audience.
“Or blue, although that makes me think about—”
“Stop,” Danny interrupts, knowing the voice Max uses when he’s about to say some weird shit.
Max's face splits in a wide grin and he starts laughing, a partial wheeze as he crosses his arms over himself and grips his sides.
He’s too fucking cute.
Danny needs to face fuck him like several hours ago.
“You’re so annoying,” he says and tosses his elbow gently into Max’s ribs. Max straightens up, but the smile doesn’t flag at all.
“And you have a big dick,” Max answers, smug, like he’s just delivered the title winning jab in a boxing match. “And the blue condom makes me think about this alien comic I read once.”
Danny groans at the quick rush of Max’s words, speeding out of his mouth like a train before Danny can stop him. Stubborn brat.
“Fuck you,” Danny finally answers, downing the dregs of his beer, grimacing at the warm foam. “Now we’re definitely not using the blue one, and I’m still going to be thinking about that later. If I can’t get hard, it’s your fault.”
“Oh, we both know that’s not going to be a problem.” Max drags his eyes down Danny’s body, gaze settling below his belt. Danny’s dick twitches like an obedient dog.
Pathetic Ricciardo, really just low.
��And I will also be thinking about it later,” Max says.
“You’re a freak.”
“Your freak.”
Danny ignores the way that lodges in his throat. Doesn’t want to consider the truth of those words. Always fighting back the part of him that wants to take and take and see how much Max will give. Danny thinks it’s probably too much.
“Fucking aliens.”
“Yes, please.” Max laughs, tosses his head back and barks up at the sky. Danny thinks maybe Max could take and take from him in return. Danny might let him.
#maxiel#maxiel fic#max verstappen#daniel ricciardo#f1 fanfiction#f1 fic#a88fic#scenes from loveblind#maxiel warped tour au
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Spooky Secrets & Sweet Treats
College!Quarterback!Bucky Barnes + Curvy!College!Reader
Summary- You and the gang decorate for Halloween and host a Halloween party. During which a heated argument starts up between you and Bucky, revealing some hidden truths. Will these new truths lead to a new relationship and a fresh start between you two, or will it become worse than before?
W.C.- 3653
Warnings- Smut, unprotected sex, poorly written smut
A/N- Hi! I really hope you guys like this, I honestly don’t know how to feel about this, like I love it but I also hate it lol. The picture above is roughly what the living room looks like, I designed it myself on a designing website. The other pictures aren’t mine. This will be part one of a series. Part two will be for Thanksgiving and part 3 Christmas, and so on. Not proof read. The back story I used is my own sooo yeah. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Oh and happy Halloween!!
Masterlist Series Masterlist
Having not eaten all day, your stomach rumbled in protest. You sat in the middle row of the lecture hall, Nat on one side, Yelena on the other. This was the last class of the day, your ADHD medicine wearing off causing you to be even more impatient. Your right leg bounced mindlessly under the table; Natasha placed her hand on your knee with a warning glance. You stop and mumble out an apology.
You couldn’t help it honestly, today was Halloween, not your favorite holiday but still. You were sizzling with excitement. You, Natasha and Yelena (your roommate's), Nat’s boyfriend Steve and his two friends Sam and Bucky, were coming over after class. The guys would be making the food while you girls set out the decorations and got everything ready. That’s right, you were having a Halloween party!
You were never one for parties, not that you didn’t like them you just weren’t ever invited in high school. No one wanted the shy girl at their party. But since meeting Nat and Lena you’ve grown more confident, you were still shy, that was just who you are, but you’re a little more outgoing than you once were.
There was just one tiny problem, Bucky. You loathed that man, and according to him the feeling was mutual. Every little thing he did annoyed you, he made sure he went out of his way just to piss you off. With his stupid, cocky smirk, sparkling white teeth, gorgeous shoulder length, chocolate brown locks that he let grow out since meeting you. Even those shirts that seem three sizes too small, showing off his delicious abs that you just wanted to li-
Stop that!
You mentally climbed out of that rabbit hole, not wanting to go too deep. No matter how much you wanted to get a taste of the star quarterback, you hated each other and that was all it was ever going to be.
After what you’re sure is another 20 minutes, the professor finally dismisses everyone. You quickly gather your things and dart out the lecture hall, Natasha and Yelena hot on your heels.
Shivering as you stepped outside, you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, the cool autumn breeze blew about. Fall colored leaves littered the sidewalk, crunching under your feet.
You smiled. You loved fall and winter, everything just seemed happier. Holidays back-to-back, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. You loved Christmas. The sparkle of Christmas lights, curling up on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching Christmas movies, you just loved it.
The party started at nine, so you had roughly five and a half hours to get the supplies, set everything up, and get ready yourselves.
“You excited?” Nat asks, drawing you away from your thoughts. You three walking to your house on the far end of the campus. It was a two story, three bedrooms, two bath house. Nat and Lena’s parents were rich, having some sort of high-end job in the government.
“Duh,” you laugh.
“Even though he’s going to be there?” Yelena pipes up. You sigh.
“I’m determined to not let him get to me; I am going to have a good time tonight.”
“You say that every time,” Nat snickers.
“Yeah well, I mean it this time, he’s not ruining this party for me,” you defend.
“You say that too,” Yelena giggles.
“Say what?” The annoying voice you know too well asks before you can say anything. Turning around you find Bucky, Steve, and Sam following you guys. Steve wraps an arm around Nat, kissing her forehead. Sam ruffles Yelena’s hair.
Clad in his signature black leather jacket, the six-foot something wall of muscle wore blue jeans, red henley under the jacket, and his combat boots. This isn’t fair, why does he have to look so hot? His hair pulled into a small bun at the base of his neck.
“Nothing James,” you roll your eyes. You could see the tick in his jaw, he hated being called by his first name.
“Come on, princess,” he spits bitterly. “Keeping secrets from me now?” You just huff and keep walking in the direction of your house.
Princess. That name made your blood boil, you despised it, and he knew it too. It wasn’t the name that bothered you really, just the way he said it, like you were some spoiled brat. You most definitely weren’t. You didn’t even know why he called you that, but that was the name he’d given you the night you first met.
You weaved your way through the mass of people, trying to reach the kitchen. Natasha had dragged you to this party, claiming it was way past due to meet the gang. Yelena wasn’t any help, going right along with Nat’s plans. When one sister had her mind set to something, the other backed her up and to say they were a force to be reconned with was an understatement.
Before you could reach the kitchen, you smacked right into a wall, or what you thought was a wall until two strong, veiny hands shot out to steady you before you could fall. Looking up you see a pair of steel blue eyes boring into yours. The man had a sharp, clean shaved jaw, his brown hair short and fluffy, and stuck up in all different directions. His full, pink lips moved, saying something you didn’t quite catch. You realized you had been staring for too long.
“What?” You ask loud enough over the music.
He chuckles. “I said, are you alright, ...?”
“Oh! I’m Y/N, and yes, I’m fine. Thanks for catching me,” you smile. “And you are?”
His smile falls. “Bucky,” he says gruffly. “Watch where you’re going next time, princess,” he spits out bitterly before expertly weaving through the crowd.
You stood there confused for a moment, wondering what the hell happened. Natasha told you to give him some time and he’d warm up to you. To everyone’s surprise, he never did.
Your shoulders relaxed as you breathed a contented sigh as you stepped inside your shared home. A fireplace with shelves lined on either side. When you moved in Nat and Yelena let you decorate, you had taken interior design in high school so you knew how to make certain things work. A light grey couch sat in the center, with a coffee table in front of it, and a TV mounted on the wall above the fireplace.
Nat let you take the lead, directing everyone. She knew how your OCD and ADHD could get, especially when it comes to planning things like this, everything had to be a certain way. Bucky rolled his eyes and mumbled some smart remark under his breath. Once everyone was assigned a job you all got to work.
Steve and Sam went to the store, Bucky started to chop firewood to help keep the house warm-you liked using that rather than the heater, made it cozier, plus it saved money. Nat and Yelena worked on getting the Halloween decorates out of the shed. You did a quick clean, making room for the foldable tables Steve and Sam were getting. You scolded Bucky when he tracked mud through the house, to which he flipped you off.
Once the boys got back and the decorations were all set up and tables put up, everyone got ready. Natasha and Steve dressed up as superheroes, Sam as a Falcon, ever the nerd he is. Yelena dressed up as a vampire, Bucky was, well you didn’t know what he was. All you knew was he’s half naked and making your panties sticky.
And last but not least, you dressed up as a bunny, well sort of. You wore a soft pink short cotton skirt with a bunny tail, a matching cotton crop, and bunny ears. Steve painted on a bunny nose. You were very unsure of the outfit at first, but Nat and Yelena, both assured you that your curves look delicious in that outfit.
Once everyone was dressed Steve and Sam fired up the grill to start cooking, Nat and Yelena setting out the condiments and other various food items. Bucky got the fire going, having paused to help Steve and Sam set the tables up when they got back. You added a few finishing touches to the decorations, moving a few things, stuff like that. You idly wondered why Bucky was so quiet, usually he’d have you clawing your eyes out by now.
But Bucky was in his own little world. He leaned back on his haunches once the fire was set. He glanced over at you, taking in your outfit. His tight ripped jeans did nothing to hide the effect it had on him. He'd seen you glance at his bare chest multiple times by now, he didn’t have a costume in mind. He just threw on some old, tight, ripped black jeans, if anyone asked what he was he’d think of something.
He watched as you moved a few decorations, a pout on your soft pink lips. Your brows were furrowed in a frown, he wanted to reach out and smooth it with his thumb. He shook his head to try and clear those thoughts, looking away before you could catch him.
Yes, he hated you, but that didn’t mean that your curves didn’t make his cock throb and his head fuzzy. The way you looked in those heels, how they made you sexy legs look long and soft. But you were this self-entitled princess who always had to have her way, it pissed him off, everyone loved you. Even your creative writing professor you guys had seemed to adore you, it made his blood boil that you were the teacher's pet.
If only he knew.
He remembers how you had him all figured out before you guys even met.
Bucky scanned through the crowd of people in his house. He, Steve, and Sam threw a celebration party for winning last night's game. Steve had invited his girlfriend, which she invited her sister and their roommate.
He was quite excited to meet this gorgeous angel Natasha always talked about. He spotted Natasha and Yelena; the third girl had her back to him. He could only assume the third girl was you, your soft Y/H/C pulled into a braid. The blue jeans you wore hugged your thighs, your tank top hugging your chest and curves.
He smirked, you really were gorgeous. As he walked closer, he could hear your honeyed voice. He frowned when he heard what you were saying.
“I don’t see how I could like someone like him,” you tell Nat. “He’s probably some fuckboy like every other football player. Some jerk with a high ego.”
Your tone sounded disgusted; he huffed a breath. Any excitement he had for meeting you was long gone. He was so fucking tired of people associating him with the stereotypical quarterback. He wasn’t a fuckboy, far from it.
He'd only been with a few women, contrary to what everyone believed. He didn’t fuck them and leave, no, his ma raised him better than that. He took them out, treated them right, the perfect gentlemen. He was dedicated to any and all his relationships, they just never seemed to work out.
So, when he ran into you later that night, literally, he put up the wall that he hides behind and brushed you off.
A couple of hours later the party is in full swing, people dancing, music blaring. You step out on the back patio, needing a break from the noise and people. You sit in one of the outside chairs, looking at the stars. You mentally scold yourself for not bringing a jacket as you shiver. You feel fuzzy as the whiskey you’d been drinking takes effect.
A few minutes later a sweaty Bucky opens the sliding glass door. He pauses when he sees you. He huffs and closes the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. You turn away from him, ignoring his presence. You hear the door open a couple of times before you feel a warm leather jacket being set over your shoulders.
The jacket smells of leather and pine, mixed with something else, Bucky. You turn your head to see the man himself standing behind you.
“I don’t need your stupid jacket, James,” you huff and move to slide said jacket off. He places his big hands on your shoulders, keeping the jacket in place.
“Can you for once stop being a fucking brat and just take the goddamn jacket?” He snaps, feed up with your constant attitude.
You shove his hands off you and stand up. “What the hell is your problem?!” You yell, finally at your breaking point.
“My problem?!” He yells back. “My problem is you’re a self-entitled brat who always gets what she wants. Who thinks she knows everyone, well news flash princess, you don’t.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You making assumptions about me before you even get to know me.” You give him a confused look so he continues. “That night at the party you told Nat how you couldn’t ever like someone like me, how I’m an egoistic fuckboy. I'm so fucking tired of people making assumptions.”
Guilt settles into bones; you hadn’t realized he heard you. “Oh, Bucky I’m so-”
“No, you know what?” He continues, cutting you off. “You’re the one with the high ego, everything just has to be your way, doesn’t it? This has to go there, that over there. Everything has to be perfect for little miss sunshine.”
“Wh-”
“No, you’re gonna shut the fuck up for once and listen to me. And it’s not just that, you always get what you want, everyone fucking babies you and adores you. Even the fucking professors love you. I mean it’s pretty obvious you’re a teacher’s pet-”
“Enough!” You yell, your voice breaking. He goes quiet, panting from his rant.
“I’m not the teacher’s pet, she checks up on me to make sure I’m okay. After she read my memoir for our memoir assignments, she started to check up on me. Making sure I was safe where I’m at, if I had a trusted adult to talk too.”
“Awe, did the princess have a few bad memories that she wrote about? Hmm? Well news flash princess everyone has bad memories, that doesn’t excuse that you always get what you want.”
“You know what, fine! You wanna know why I am the way I am?” You yell. “Growing up I didn’t have a fucking say in anything! I was treated like a piece of property; my own father called me his property! I did everything for them, I was 14! 14 and if I didn’t cook or clean no one would.” Your voice breaks.
Bucky goes to say something but you keep going. “My own grandmother got my entire family to hate me and I was only 3, it took years for them to finally figure the truth out. My father would guilt trip me, manipulate me. I took care of my mother at her lowest, watched her on the verge of death and she still favors my brother. Nothing I ever did was good enough! I could go on forever about how fucked up everything was, James.”
Bucky stands there in shock. “Wow...I um...” He doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m sorry for judging you before I got to know you, I really am. But do not call me a brat and say I always get what I want.”
You take a deep breath to calm your racing heart. Both of you stand there in silence, filled with guilt at how you’ve both been acting.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. You nod.
“Me too,” you whisper back.
Neither one of you knows who moves first, but one moment you’re looking each other in the eye and the next Bucky has his tongue tangled with yours. He tastes of beer and cake, you moan softly, Bucky swallows the sound like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.
His hands, both metal and flesh, grip your ass and pull you closer. His hard bulge grinds against your naval, he groans. When the need for air gets too great, Bucky pulls back and starts to litter your neck with sloppy wet kisses.
“My room,” you shudder. “Now.”
“So fucking bossy,” he grumbles. He throws you over his shoulder and goes back inside. No body pays any attention to either of you, too busy dancing or too drunk to care. He takes the stair two at a time.
You get bold and slide your hands into his jeans, groping his bare ass, he had gone commando. He slaps your ass in retaliation, causing you to yelp. He finally reaches your bedroom, kicking the door shut and tossing you on the bed. You slide up the bed, shoving the pile of stuffed animals onto the floor as you go. Bucky kicks his boots off and climbs on top of you.
Bucky attaches his lips to your neck, sucking and biting. You moan and pull the hairband out of his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands of hair. You tug and he groans, you tug harder and he bites down hard.
He kisses down your collar bone to your chest, yanking the crop top off you and groaning when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He takes one nipple in his mouth, sucking and nipping as it hardens. You let out a high-pitched whine, the pain mixing with pleasure. His metal hand kneads the other, causing you to shiver at the temperature difference. He switches, giving them both the same treatment.
Once he’s had his fill, he starts to kiss down your stomach, hands groping your thighs.
“These fucking thighs,” he grumbles. “You have any idea how many times I thought of these gorgeous, thick thighs. Fuck.” He’s thought of you?
He pulls your skirt down your legs, tossing it somewhere behind him. He gently undoes the straps on your heels and slides them off. He slides his hands up your thighs, one hot and one cold, he spreads them and groans. He leans forward and licks at your clit through the fabric of your panties, moaning at the taste of your juices.
“Bucky!” You gasp and grip his hair.
“So fucking good,” he mumbles, mouthing at your pussy. He grips your ass, holding you up and shoving his face into your pussy even more. The fabric gets wetter, a combination of your juices and his saliva.
You whine his name and tug his hair, pulling him back up to kiss him, moaning at the taste of your juices on his tongue.
It’s a mess of messy kisses and fumbled movements as Bucky kicks off his jeans and socks, pausing to grind his cock against your panties. Your eyes widen when you see him, he chuckles and tells you not to worry, he’ll fit.
“Bucky please,” you whine.
“I know, baby, I know,” he presses a kiss to your cheek. “I gotta prep you first.”
He rips your panties off, flinging the ruined fabric to the other side of the room. He reaches down with his flesh hand, spreading you slick over your clit before carefully inserting one finger.
You moan and wiggle your hips, impatient. He flicks your thigh and tells you to be patient. He adds a second finger, then a third. He slowly opens you up, teasing and torturing you, rubbing that spot that makes you see stars.
Two can play this game.
You reach down and grab his aching cock, thumbing the slit and spreading the precum that’s gathered there. Bucky moans and bucks his hips, cursing.
“Bucky please, I’m ready. Just fuck me already.”
He grunts and pulls his fingers out, sucking them clean. “I’m clean but I have a condom in my wallet.”
You shake your head. “I’m clean and on birth control.”
“Fuck yes,” he groans. He flips you over, making you face down, ass up. “This fucking juicy ass.” He slaps your ass a couple of time, groping the juicy flesh hard.
“Please,” you whine and push back against him.
Finally, he takes pity on you and lines himself up. He slides all the way in on one thrust, both of you moaning. He gives you a moment to adjust before setting a brutal pace.
He angles his thrusts just right and you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good in your whole life. He leans down, plastering his sweat slicked chest to your back and kisses your shoulder and neck.
You make little noises with every thrust, fueling Bucky, his own groans and grunts right next to your ear.
“So fucking tight, shit,” he moans into your shoulder. He reaches down and starts to rub tight circles over your clit and you cry out.
“Fuck! Bucky please!”
“Can feel you squeezing me, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm?”
“Yes! Please! I’m so close!” You moan.
“Cum.” His thrusts turn even more punishing, if possible, focusing on that spot. Your thighs start to shake. His perfect thrusts and the pressure on your clit push you over the edge. Your eyes roll back, hands griping the sheets so tight they could rip.
Bucky's pace stutters, you clenching his so tight he cums seconds after you do. He collapses on top of you, both of you trembling and panting.
He rolls off you to the side, pulling the sheets over you both and spooning you from behind. You both succumb to sleep to sleep minutes later, too exhausted to talk about what just happened.
______
The morning sun shines through your blinds, the birds chirp outside your window. You groan and roll over, not wanting to get up just yet. You reach out for Bucky, only to find cold sheets.
Bucky was gone.
#honeybunnywrites#bucky#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky fanfic#marvel#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x curvy!reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#sebastian stan#bucky smut#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader smut
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So Sharp You Won't Feel a Thing | Ep. 6
MASTERLIST | Kink: Orgy
🗝 The Others are too much, too obsessed with keeping you on their side. They beg and do everything in their power, but you can't leave everything you know to stay in The Other World forever...can you?
3.6k words
warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, DUBIOUS, reader does say stop once from overstim, restrained (f!), orgy, PIV, no protection, throat-fucking, handjobs, oral (f!), thats all I feel like putting
notes! last ep, I'm so happy. this took a lot of planning and I was thinking of how to end it, but I think I like how it turned out. let me know your thoughts of the event! thank you so much for reading. feedback/reblogs are much appreciated!
They’ve moved you to the kitchen which is ironically fitting. With how their hands and mouths devour you, it’s safe to assume you’re the main course.
Everyone has their buttons on you as you’re laid upon the dinner table, legs spread and pushed to your face for what feels like forever. Minho keeps your ankles apart by pressing on the underside of your thighs. He stands above you, upside down so his cock is in your face.
It feels exposing to have you spread so indecently with them here. Minho, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin all watch as Hyunjin slips his cock in with ease. His dull fingernails dig into your sides as if this is the first time he’s been inside, which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Seungmin hadn’t wasted any time on calling the Others, leaving you in a state of shock from the revealing of your kidnapping. Everything happened so slowly and so fast; Felix’s joyful clapping, Minho’s and Jeongin’s matching smug smile, and Hyunjin’s eager expression. Their chatter was white noise even in moving rooms.
The prodding of Hyunjin’s cock snapped you out of it. He was eager, drooling out of his pretty mouth, and slapping the head of his cock on your flaps. Your legs had kicked from overstimulation, but Minho was quick to restrain them.
“Noo,” Hyunjin whined, high-pitched and almost heartbroken. “Don’t do that. Everyone got a taste of your pussy. It’s not fair that I didn’t.”
But it’s been more than a taste. You’re drowning in your own pleasure, gasping and moaning against the underside of Minho’s dick.
You can’t lift your head, but you can guess the sight. You can feel the cream sliding down your ass, the throbbing of your clit, the gushing of your pussy every time he rams back in. There’s not a doubt that you’re swollen and pink pink pink, but the Others can’t seem to look away.
“Look at that pussy. You’re breaking it.”
“If she took it up the ass, she can take it there.”
“Yeah. It’s just one cock. She has about five more to go.”
They all laugh. Even Hyunjin smiles, lips twisted in pleasure as you whine at their words. Their near threats. It feels like your stomach has turned into a puddle of arousal with every thrust. Each time you think you can’t come again, you do. But the constant pounding makes the building overwhelming.
“Nghhh. Waiitt. T-too much. Pleaseee.”
Your arms feel heavy, but there’s enough strength in them to try and grab at Hyunjin. You manage to graze his wrists before Jeongin grabs a hold of your hand with your other being held by Seungmin.
You might not have gotten him to stop, but your plan succeeds in another way.
“Huh? T-too much?” Hyunjin sounds worried. “Am I hurting you?” He’s the weakest link, you've learned. Too sweet for his own good. You almost cry in relief when he slows, but it’s short-lived.
“No, hyung. You aren’t. It just means that she wants kisses.” Jeongin soothes. “Kisses always make everything better.”
Hyunjin nods, too fucked-out to really understand but agrees anyway. His hips begin to pick up their pace again and you cry out. It doesn’t hurt per se, but it is too good to bear. You open your mouth to plead with Hyunjin, but words never make it when Minho presses his tip between your lips to shut you up.
“Mmf!”
His taste is musky and slightly salty. Minho’s cock smoothly glides on your tongue, down until he can see the head poking through your throat.
“Fuck. That’s it. Good kitty.” He rubs his thumb where his tip presses, making you gag. Being upside down makes his cock press deeper. There’s nowhere to turn when he shoves the remaining inches in, balls touching your nose.
He stills. Minho lets you convulse around his cock to get used to his size. When your neck turns pink, he slides out. You can feel how your throat twitches against his shaft. Your tongue sticks out of your mouth when he’s fully out, gasping for air.
Then he does it all over again.
You’re too busy being fucked in two holes to feel Seungmin and Jeongin wrap your fingers around their cocks. Their warmth registers when they thrust into your makeshift fist. The veiny textures of their cocks have you gripping tighter.
Jeongin grunts from the pressure. He thrusts at a much faster pace than Seungmin who opts to rock. He wants to feel how each finger strokes him. There’s no need for spit or lube for your questionable handjobs. They both leak enough pre-cum to coat your palm and shine their tips.
“Mmm. Yeah. Yeah. Good slut for us, aren’t ‘ya?” Jeongin wraps both his hands around yours. It’s like your fist is a fleshlight and in a way, your entire body is. The expanding of your throat, the bend of your wrists, and the squelching of your cunt. Everything about your state is absolutely debauched.
Knowing how you look makes the pleasure heightened. Your breasts bounce from Hyunjin's pistons, forcing your throat to take Minho deeper until your eyes roll back. Your limbs are loose, but the men using your hands to tug their cocks hardly mind. But if you come again, you know you’ll break.
Felix, quiet and waiting, can’t help but fall in love with your depravity. So good, so pretty. Cum leaks from his tip, oozing on the floor. The soft padder of his feet goes unnoticed as he stands beside Hyunjin, looking in absolute awe at the stretch between your legs.
You notice him when little fingers rub your clit. Minho pulls out to hear you squeal, finally lifting your head to see Hyunjin and Felix standing at the other end, beautifully terrifying.
Felix’s finger taps your nub in quick patterns. It’s such a light touch, but it has you squeezing on Hyunjin’s cock. The blonde man giggles gleefully, smiling ear-to-ear when his hyung groans in response.
Seungmin’s free hand tangles in your hair. You think he’s going to lay you back down and have you swallow Minho’s cock, but he keeps your head up instead. You watch as Felix lowers himself, moving his hand to replace them with his lips.
“How about them kisses, yeah?”
You let out a drawled moan when you feel his hot mouth. Hyunjin slows just enough to prevent himself from hitting Felix, but his pace is still relentless. It blends together madly.
You’re whining and wiggling your hips in an attempt to escape them. But Minho’s firm grip on your thighs makes the attempts worthless.
Tears brim your eyes. “Fuck! Please! I’m being good. I’m being so good. I can’t- I can’t…”
Felix swirls his tongue deliciously on your clit. It catches the nub in his mouth, pulling on the flesh until it stretches. Your thighs tremble, ass and cunt clenching desperately. Salvia begins to pool at the corner of your mouth.
“You can’t?” Felix hums with your clit between his lips. He lets it go with a crude pop. Your body relaxes and drops back down on the table, Seungmin’s hand stays under your head to keep it still while Minho rubs his tip on your swollen lips.
“But you have to. Hyunjin got a taste. I only tasted it on Minho-hyung’s fingers. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since.”
You couldn't argue if you wanted to. Minho’s cock feels soft on your mouth, lolling your tongue out and taking him back in.
Hyunjin must feel the change in your cunt. You feel softer. Warmer. Wetter. It almost hurts how hard you’re gushing from them using every part of your body, but Hyunjin relishes it. His thrusts grow erratic, his breathing labored as he chases the heat of your pussy.
The bruising tip knocks on your cervix. You already have a cock down your throat, but it feels as though they’ll be two soon.
Felix’s tongue finds home on your lips again. It slips low enough to taste your arousal, Hyunjin's cock rubbing against it. His face might be getting squished, but he can taste you here. Raw and unfiltered.
He swipes the cream up your slit. The drag feels slow, a stark difference to your tongue licking Minho’s cock. You find yourself copying his movements unconsciously. The swipe of your tongue matches his when Felix lavishes your clit. Even with your muffled squealing, you rub your tongue over Minho’s slit.
They grunt. Jeongin and Seungmin who are left with nothing but your hand still manage to twitch in your hold. You don’t mean to grip them so tight. There’s just too much in your mouth and cunt that you need to hold onto something.
Your entire body jolts up and down, side to side from how they use you. It’s like they’re planning on cumming together.
“Look at that. I wonder if I can see my cum shoot down her throat like this.” Minho sighs dreamily. His cock is too deep for your tongue to do more than lay on the underside, but even then, you try to swipe it back and forth.
Jeongin tilts his head, hair sticking to his forehead to see your neck bulge from his hyung’s size. It affects him more than he thought. The stretch of Minho’s cock down your throat, the bounce of your tits, and your sputtering when Minho mercifully gives you time to breathe.
One of your hands is being fucked harder than the other. Jeongin grabs onto your breast with his unused hand for purchase, squeezing the nipple Seungmin abused what felt like hours ago now.
“Fuuuck. I’m cumming.” Droplets of cum ooze from his slit. “I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”
Those droplets soon turn into ropes. Strings of Jeongin’s arousal shoot out, landing on the table and some on the floor. He pulls his sensitive cock from your hold and squeezes the base. Final spurts burst onto your breast, warm and wet.
It’s like a butterfly effect. Seungmin‘s knees buckle when his orgasm pours out. He mimics Jeongin and pulls your hand off, but he jerks himself to completion so white cream decorates your other tit.
Seungmin slaps the tip on your nipple, sprinkles of cum shooting out and reaching your neck.
“Mmm, shit. Your tits are so messy.” The two of them glide their leaking cocks on your breasts, slowly coming down from their high.
Hyunjin nearly topples over you. The sight of your soaked tits and the men’s rubbing cocks is too much. It’s the final push he needs to go over the edge.
Much rougher than he anticipated, Hyunjin yanks Felix off your clit to push his hips deep. You hear a low groan of pain, a high-pitched wail of pleasure, and you feel the sputtering of Hyunjin’s cock soon after.
His release coats your walls. The twitching of his cock has you clenching around him, painfully and desperately trying to squeeze the last orgasm out of you.
You’ll cry if you cum again. You’ve been holding out for so long that it would all be in vain just to finish now. But Minho isn’t letting you get a chance to breathe. The lack of oxygen makes your brain fuzzy and the warmth of Hyunjin’s cum is just too good.
Clear fluids shoot from your core. It’s so much that it forces Hyunjin's cock out, hips thrusting when you’re empty. You gag around Minho to use your free, cum-soaked hands to push at his thighs. He doesn’t want to pull out, but the veins popping from your neck are almost worrisome. Minho huffs when he slides his cock from between your lips.
You cough and choke. The sounds are twisted with your moans and whines. You look at the space between your legs to see Hyunjin’s abdomen completely drenched. Felix’s face is worse off, but his buttons shine in amazement.
“Oh- oh my god. F-fuck! hngg. Mmm…” Your eyes roll back. Your body trembles, legs shaking in Minho’s annoying grip. You hear someone praise, another laugh, but it’s the tongue on your clit that catches your attention.
Felix. “Nonono. Stop! Pleasepleaseplease. I came. I just came. No more!”
You twist in Minho’s grasp. Jeongin and Seungmin hold your arms down when you reach for Felix’s hair.
It hurts so good. Your hard nub gets lavished by Felix’s tongue, rough and quick. You squirm your hips in feelable attempts but Hyunjin holds your lower half for Felix to keep eating.
“Pleeasseee. I-” you hiccup. “I can’t breathe. Too much. It’s too much!”
He flattens his tongue so it runs up your slit. You feel him start at your entrance and slide along your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking your clit.
Your hips jolt. A squeal emits from your chest. There’s a brief pause before he does it again. It feels almost rougher than the last time. Felix laughs at your sobs, finally pulling away from your cunt and tapping his finger on your slit.
You vibrate.
“Haha! I think she’s gone now.”
Minho lets go of your legs. You didn’t notice how uncomfortable your back was, your spine finally flattening on the table. A groan of relief passes your swollen lips. You can feel Jeongin and Seungmin’s cum running down your breasts. Most of Hyunjin’s has been licked up by Felix, but you swear your cunt is still pooling with release.
Bare feet softly echo in the kitchen. You’re too tired to focus your sight, but you can see Minho’s blurry figure walk to the other end of the table.
No.
“You cleaned it all good for me, Felix?” Minho grins his roommate kneeling on the floor. “You know I love how you spread pussy with your tongue.”
Your chest caves with a broken cry.
Felix giggles. “It’s been a long time since I have. You might have to test it out.”
The men chuckle. You don’t know how long you can keep doing this. The way they’re carving themselves into you feels like it might be permanent and you’re scared you may not ever want it removed.
Still, you whine when Minho wraps your legs around his torso. You know he won't last long in your cunt. His cock is an angry red, tip leaking so much pre-cum it’s dribbling on your folds.
But you just can’t take anymore.
Clatter from the living room has everyone turning their heads. Light steps thud and you feel a sense of relief.
And dread. That is, until you hear a familiar voice calling your name.
“B-Bin!” You shout for him. They’re still holding you down, but it doesn't stop you from wiggling.
Tears sting your eyes. You can’t imagine what he’ll look like when he sees you like this. Confused, maybe. Angry, definitely. You’ll have to explain to him that it's not anything you don’t want, but you desperately need a break from it.
But the footsteps that carry Changbin’s voice don’t match. He’s not rushing in. There’s not an ounce of worry in his steps as he grows closer.
“Where are you?”
“I’m right here!” Despite the worry, you can’t think about it too much. The heart in your chest feels as though it might burst from how hard it’s beating. It feels like an eternity before he enters the kitchen.
But it’s not Changbin. Not at all. You reel back into Jeongin at the sight of Jisung. He stands in the entry, smiling so much that his top gums show and his eyes squint.
“Found you.” Hearing Changbin’s voice come from Jisung's lips makes you shiver. You can handle buttons for eyes. You can handle talking cats and their attitude. But this…this is horrifying.
You’re trembling so violently that Minho soothes your thighs by running his hands up and down.
Jeongin’s nose scrunches in distaste. “I fucking hate when you do that. It’s creepy as shit.”
Jisung laughs, using his own voice now. He almost skips to you, but slowing down you shrink back into Jeongin more. His smile turns into a frown as he reaches out to touch you, brushing a stray hair from your face.
There’s so much running in your head. No one’s talking, but everything’s just sounds so loud. The blood drumming in your veins, the pounding of your heart, and the questions swirling in your mind.
“You- How did you- Why-” Breathe. “You sounded just like him.”
“Oldest trick in the book, baby. I can do a lot more than that.”
You’re almost grateful for the other men’s touches of comfort despite them doing what seemed like the opposite moments ago. “How? Who are you?”
His smile reappears. “What do you mean who am I? I’m your landlord!”
You shake your head. “No. You said your grandma-”
“I lied.” He says simply. “She died a while ago. But yes, it’s me that’s collecting your rent. It was also me who showed you the door.” Jisung sees your aghast expression. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. You said it yourself; I was stalking you. A little bit.”
“Pervert.” Minho mumbles.
Jisung scoffs. “I- I am not a pervert!” His hands point to every nude man in the room. “You guys are! Look at yourselves!” There’s an awkward shuffle in the kitchen as if they’ve been caught red-handed. Jisung huffs a final time and leans down to you, voice quiet. “They’ve been fucking you for so long, haven’t they?”
His hand gently runs down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, and stops at your stomach. “Poor baby didn't even get a break.”
You nearly whimper at his touch. Jisung fakes a pout that bursts into a grin, pecking your lips lightly.
“Since you know everything, you should also know it was Hyunjin hogging her. I barely got my turn before you showed up.” Minho has a sarcastic tone but there’s a playful glint in his buttons.
“Of course I know that. That’s why I showed up. You were gonna break her.” Jisung nuzzles his nose against yours. “After all, what kind of owner would I be if I didn’t take care of my things?”
Your disorganized thoughts finally settle to the time at the garden. You easily recall telling Jisung those exact words. Including when Jeongin revealed everything to you.
Let’s just say we made a deal with the devil.
“You…you’re the Beldom.”
Jisung’s eyebrows raise, eyes full of shock. “Y-yeah. I haven’t been called that in a long time. How do you know that word?”
Jeongin gulps. The swallow doesn’t go unnoticed by Jisung. He tuts and shakes his head, “First Seungmin, now you? Whatever. I’ll deal with it later.”
“But you,” Jisung winks in your direction. “I need an answer from you now.”
Confusion etches on your flushed face. “For what?”
“Well, if you wanna stay of course!” Jisung smiles wide. “I’ve been renting out this level for so long, but no one’s been a good candidate. But you…you and your friends…I think you’ll do just fine.”
The other men can sense your fear. Felix takes your hand in his, a small gesture to soothe you. “We know how you feel.”
“Yeah.” Hyunjin agrees. “We’ve been here.”
You already knew they were trapped by the Beldom, but the puzzles didn’t fit until now. The missing men. They’re them.
“It doesn’t help when he does that freaky thing with his voice,” Jeongin grimaces. “But Han’s just socially awkward. You get used to it.”
“H-Hey! I thought it was funny!”
“The point is,” Minho says sternly, silencing the small chatter. “We want you here. Why would you want to waste your life away stressing out there? If you can afford rent or dinner? No one deserves to live like that.”
“We can keep you safe here.” You turn your head to Seungmin. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Han can do anything. He has done everything for us. Now he wants to do it for you too.”
Different pairs of hands caress your body. It doesn’t feel sexual, but comforting. They run over your breasts, between your legs, intertwining with your fingers, just touching you. They’re right, you haven’t been worrying about money and other trivial matters since meeting them.
You think of Chan and Changbin and how stressed they’ve been. If they meet the Others here, they’ll be free from all of it too. Won’t they?
“You’ll…You’ll take all of us? Chan and Changbin too?”
Jisung nods, “It won’t be easy, but once they see their pretty little girlfriend on this Side, I don’t think it’ll be too hard to convince them.”
Shit, you’re considering it. You look around the room, locking eyes with every button peering down at you. Waiting. Hopeful.
With a deep breath, you look back at the Beldom. “You have to promise me, Han. That they’ll be here too.”
Jisung puts one hand over his heart and the other with the palm facing you. “Scouts honor. I’ve never failed. If I got Minho-hyung to be a part of my family, I know I can do your friends too.”
You briefly look at Minho. You don’t know why; maybe for a sign or a hint of regret in his burgundy buttons, but he grins instead. “I couldn’t leave Felix by himself.”
You must have nodded. You don’t know because you’re trembling so much, but judging from the smiles on everyone’s faces and Jisung’s clapping, you must have.
An enormous bug comes from the living room, a platter held in its stick-for-hands. You can’t see the content from your shaky vision, but when Jisung holds the items in the air, you can see it clearly.
Needle and thread.
“Now, what color would suit you best?”
#smut#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids#skz#skz hyunjin#skz minho#skz felix#skz seungmin#skz jisung#hyunjin smut#lee Felix smut#skz Felix smut#skz hyunjin smut#skz jeongin
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973 words | No Warrior (sequel to Passing winter)
Content | Referenced past trauma
Notes | Big decisions are made!
This is the end of the story, however, unlike with The monster of Lindborough, there are still a bunch of gaps I want to fill sometime :)
For now, this is it, though. I hope you like it! Friendly reminder I have a ko-fi, otherwise I'm also always happy to read you comments even if I'm bad at responding dfjkdkgjh <3
Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @whumpadump1939 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight
@whumpzone @angel-stars @kixngiggles @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen
@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping
@nine-tailed-whump @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly @tears-and-lilies
@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass
@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba
»I want to go with you.«
This time, it was different. Everything was different, so much so Yves found it jarring he used the same words.
Runar had been right not to let him come last year, of course, he understood that with perfect clarity now; in truth, he had probably understood it then. But when last year, he had been fueled by fear — fear of what would become of him without Runar’s protection and care — as much as what little spark remained of his desire to fight for his people, now?
Now, everything was different.
Runar looked at him for a long moment. They were up at the cliffs, watching the sun set over the seas Runar would sail across soon.
He didn’t need Runar’s permission, really. He almost didn’t feel he did — he simply had to prove his valour like all who joined the warriors. But it seemed courteous to tell his lover first. They had been together — a couple — for months now.
»You’ll have to prove yourself,« Runar finally said, and Yves’ heart hopped at the way he didn’t argue.
»I know.« He smiled up at Runar, squeezed his hand.
»You’re sure, aren’t you?«
Yves nodded, his smile fading. This was a serious decision, and he couldn’t fault Runar for double-checking.
But to his surprise, after a moment, Runar started to grin. »It’s not fair to say I told you so, is it?«
»Heart of a warrior?« He had told him so. And Yves couldn’t believe it, not then. But perhaps it had been true all along.
He grinned back.
* All young folk who wanted to join the warriors had to pass a test of skill — they had to face one of the proper warriors in a fight, one on one. They didn’t have to win, strictly speaking. But all, and their opponent foremost, would judge if they could hold their own. It was a show the whole village came to watch.
It was agreed upon that there was no way Runar would be the one testing Yves. Yves agreed.
And yet Runar couldn’t help but wish it was him when he watched Signy approach him with that mad grin of hers. Some might argue she, too, was too biased in favour of the little thing, but from the way she pranced across the trodden-down grass within the marked circle, Runar had no doubt she wouldn’t be holding back.
Yet Runar knew these very thoughts were what made him so unsuitable. He could only watch, and hope Yves could handle himself as well as his sword.
It lightened his heart a little to hear the cheers from the crowd, as enthusiastic for Yves as for any of the younger kids born and raised here. Truly, this place had become Yves’ home, and even if he was found unfit to be a warrior — yet — he had a whole life ahead of him here.
Runar breathlessly watched the dull practice swords flash and clang, watched the swift steps of the pair on grass. He had watched Yves during his training a few times, and he knew how nimble he had become; he dodged and twisted, let Signy’s sword run off his like water, boldly shot forward like a little wasp.
Yet, Signy caught him on the thigh. It was a sharp hit, and Runar knew it must have hurt. He barely noticed himself jumping to his feet.
Yves scrambled out of the way; Runar couldn’t see his face, and he was desperate to know if he was overcome with the old fear, overwhelmed with memories-
Then Yves dashed forward, diving under Signy’s sword, and nearly got her back before she slid aside, experience and strength on her side. Runar shouted along with the cheers rising from the crowd.
It wasn’t much longer before Signy ended the fight, throwing an arm around Yves shoulder. »Yves!« she shouted, and the crowd picked up the shout, and Runar thought his heart would burst with pride, and with the wild happiness on Yves’ face.
* Yves felt his heart tremble — not with fear, not only — as the ship set sail, carrying him back.
He would go back.
With the sword waiting for him in the deckhouse.
For the moment, once the coast had disappeared from view and the last waves goodbye had been exchanged, there was nothing much to do. They were sailing before a favourable wind, and the new trainees weren’t on the first shift, so they could have a moment to smell the air and get a grip on the excitement fluttering in their hearts. Yves wasn’t much different… and yet, wholly.
He went to stand by the bow. The place brought back memories. Here he had cowered, a year and a half ago, desperate for a mercy he didn’t believe in.
Now, though, he got to look out across the waves the ship cut through under the expert guidance of the sailors, and smile when Runar took his hand.
»Are you alright?«
»Yes.« He watched the water, squeezing Runar’s hand. »It’s… I don’t know how… what it will be like. Over there.«
Runar hummed his compassion. »Whatever happens,« he said quietly, »I’ve got you. We’ve got you.«
»I know.« He leant against Runar. It was true.
The weeks at sea passed uneventfully; once the ship was becalmed for a few days, but not so long as to threaten their provisions; Brandr had taken to ignoring Yves wholly.
But eventually, a faint coastline appeared on the horizon.
The warriors not immediately occupied in guiding the ship towards a quiet beach where they could resupply, and start scouting, grabbed their gear.
Yves stood by the bow, between Signy and Runar, watching the land he had left behind become clearer.
His hand closed around the hilt of the sword Björn had made for him.
He was ready.
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WOUNDED: nakamoto yuta — written series 1/3
PART ONE. a truth that you weren’t looking for
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
GENRES; romance, angst, undergroundfighter!yuta, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, college au.
WARNINGS; mentions of cheating (neither main characters cheat), mentions of sex, mention of smoking, language.
DISCLAIMER; all portrayals of people are fake and from my imagination, in no way am i claiming that they act like this irl.
TAGLIST—OPEN!
NOTES; here it is!!! hope you guys like the first part ♡
the night was nothing like how you remembered. the cool air of your dorm's half broken fan, whirring around aimlessly as you attempted to sleep. there wasn’t any reason for you to be restless, you had just celebrated your two year anniversary with your boyfriend, johnny, your best friend had just moved into the apartment opposite yours, and you had just received an A on last semester's final assignment.
your room was dark, the dim light from the kitchen only slightly seeping under the door, a yellow hue which saturated the shadow and somehow, you blamed it as being the reason you couldn’t get yourself to sleep.
but nothing about tonight was worth sleeping for.
saving the effort of having to get up in the morning, you sat up in your bed, swinging your legs to the side and bringing yourself to your feet. you decided that if you weren't going to sleep now, you wouldn't sleep at all. you'd spent the day in bed anyways, all your friends busy at parties you didn't feel like going to, even johnny had called you out on it.
you walk to your dorm kitchen, silence tracing behind your footsteps as you read the clock hands ahead of you.
2:48am. could be worse. you make your way over to the fridge, the cold chill of it blasting in your face as you reach for a carton of orange juice.
but before you could even reach to grab a glass, something, no, someone makes you stop in your tracks.
your boyfriend.
“johnny?” you question, voice little over a whisper. he stumbles across the room to you. you had given him a spare key a few months ago, expecting him to use it only in dire emergencies. so for him to be standing in your apartment, a stain on his shirt and eyes half closed, you can’t help but be concerned.
you rush over to him, hand reaching up to his forehead and checking his temperature, you repeat his name in hopes that his attention will turn to you.
“yyeaaaass.” he slurs.
he’s drunk.
“what are you doing here? your dorms on the other side of the campus?” you express your worry, taking his arm as he crushes you with his body weight. slowly and, albeit with a struggle, you settle him down on the sofa. you sit next to him, the smell of alcohol, sweat and– strangely vanilla– flooding your senses.
he smiles, his eyes lighting up, “i wanted.. to see you!”
you laugh to yourself, knowing his vision is probably way too blurry to even recognise where he is and ironically, he wipes his eyes with his right hand.
but you notice something.
something around his right wrist, something that isn't yours and most certainly, isnt his.
a blue scrunchie.
in that moment, it's as if he had pulled your heart out of your chest, tying the scrunchie around it in a cold yet graphically ignorant act of betrayal. but you still feel it pump in your chest, your heartbeat rising and rising and–
“johnny?” you ask, and he blinks to look at you, struggling to keep his head up.
“what’s this?” you grab at the scrunchie, snapping it against his wrist. your face is one of disapproval, of accusation, and he notices your spite.
“owww!” he yelps, “why’d you do that?” he leans back, pouting in a way that you used to find cute, that you used to find endearing. but not anymore, like your trust for him, your view on him is ruined, corrupted.
“johnny.” you say more sternly this time. “who’s is it?”
you can see the struggle in his eyes, the struggle of him trying to act like he’s somewhere he’s not, like this conversation isn’t happening. he’s avoiding it and you don’t know why. except, you know exactly why, if only you could accept it.
but you don't have to, not until he accidentally opens his mouth.
“not yours.” he sighs. “there was…” he sniffles, “this girl.”
you pull away from him, the hand that you had rested on his thigh now by your side. you knew it, and yet some deep part of you wanted to act like it wasn't true. whilst you were here, at war with yourself, struggling to sleep amidst the stupid drill of your fan’s blades, slicing through the air, there he was. betraying you, losing you, all for a girl in a blue scrunchie.
“what girl?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing.
he can’t look at you. he knows he shouldn’t be saying all this to you, but he can’t help himself.
“not you.”
those two words crash into you, pulling you out of the final ounce of delusion you had left. it was really true.
“did you sleep with her?” you ask. you know you're going to extremes, but it was either now or never. johnny looked like he was about to fall asleep, and you would never get this out of him sober.
“sleep with herrr?” he slurs again, before laughing deeply to himself. “hellll yeahhh.”
and so that was how your relationship with johnny suh ended, over a blue scrunchie, accompanied by a carton of orange juice and listening to the annoying whirr of your broken fan.
what a perfect end to an almost-perfect relationship.
the next few weeks, you drowned yourself in the concept of finding a better man. you signed up to all the dating sites, you dressed yourself beautifully for every trip to the supermarket and you even asked your bestfriend to set you up on a blind date.
“oh, come on, eunji, you must know at least one guy who’d be up for it.” you whine to your best friend, her distaste in the conversation evident as she begins to walk away from you the moment you both stepped off the bus to the center of campus. you chase after her, “i haven't been looked at by a guy in weeks, let alone be spoken to by one.” you imitate crying noises, doing your best to get on her nerves.
after much of your incessant moaning, she finally turns to face you, arms folded. “yn. your ex-boyfriend is the college satan, everybody who knows him, knows to stay ten feet away from you at all times. it’s not my fault your ex is terrifying.”
“he's not that scary..” you reply, stepping next to her as you both begin your way to class.
eunji laughs, screwing her eyebrows in a look of doubt, “he saw a guy taking pictures of the campus and broke his phone because you just so happened to be in the corner of the photo.”
“okay yeah.. maybe that was a little extreme.. but he's not my boyfriend anymore!” you reply, “it’s not like he’s going to act like that now that we aren’t dating.”
eunji shrugs her shoulders, her action shortly followed by the unwelcomed entrance of your other friend, mark, as he swings his arm around your neck.
being nosey, as per usual, mark mockingly repeats your last three words, before asking what's going on. “whatcha talking about?”
both you and eunji answer immediately, “nothing.”
“oh come on, you always keep me out of your little girly conversations. what’s it this time? hmm let me guess.. yn wants a mani-pedi but she doesn’t know if her fingers should match her toes or if it even matters because no one will see them both anyways? because personally i think you should go for i-”
“okay, first of all,” you cut him off, “how the hell do you know so much about nail maintenance?”
eunji replies for him, pointing in mark’s direction, “younger sister.” he nods, letting you continue.
“and second of all, i was actually asking eunji if she, uh..”
“if she what?” mark asks, curiously. you look to eunji for help and she shrugs, letting you dig yourself out of the hole that you had created for yourself.
“..if she knew any guys she could set me up on a blind date with..”
in that moment, you watch as marks eyes widen, a look of shock, amusement and most definitely excitement, pooling amongst him. you had never seen him so exhilarated before, as if he was seeing light for the first time, muttering a million ‘oh my god’s before fully facing himself to you to elaborate.
“this is perfect, yn!” he yells, and your head tilts in question. “i have this friend in my engineering class who's just broken up with his girlfriend.”
“mark, i don't think i want someone whos fresh out of a relati–”
“shhhhh.” he interrupts you, eunji rolling her eyes, displaying every thought that's running through your mind. “it’s perfect. trust me.”
you look between mark and eunji and then back to mark again and you know it is a stupid idea, but maybe mark is right, maybe that's exactly what you need.
because a stupid breakup can only make way for stupid decisions.
marks idea of perfect, was definitely not the same as yours.
here you are, sitting in a run-down, chinese restaurant, walls plastered with a tinge of blue light, soaked up by the steam which drowns out the room. the stone floor is cracked and unstable, laying the ground for chairs which can barely hold your weight. you are the only people in here, not by any means of surprise. you and your blind date.
you haven't spoken a word to each other yet, just soaking each other in.
you don’t know if it’s simply just the contrast of the environment around him, but he is ethereal. dressed in an all dark, velveteen black shirt, paired with black pants and an almost-wrinkled yet perfectly tailored leather jacket, his form sits still ahead of you. but it isn’t just his attire that stands out to you, no, his face is far from anything you had expected, his hair falling around his forehead lazily yet in perfect shape, the dark strands reaching down to the base of his neck, the choppy yet gorgeous style making it impossible for you to draw your eyes away from him. it takes him 3 seconds of clearing his throat for you to realize you’re staring.
but how could you not, this man is incredibly beautiful.
well, that was until he opened his mouth.
“i’m not here to date you.” he says, his dark eyes shedding each and every thought from your mind until you finally realised what he was saying.
you furrowed your brow, “what?”
“i’m not here to date you.” he repeated, as if you didn’t hear him the first time. “yn? is it?” he says, holding his can of seven-up in your direction, his comedic attempt at a chivalrous joke.
“i.. uh… what?” you say again.
he laughs at your confusion and you only increase your expression further. there’s absolutely no way this man is sane.
“listen, i have a proposal for you.”
“don’t you think it’s a little too soon for that?” you joke, “it’s only the first date.” laughing, you pick up your chopsticks, finally attempting to dig into the meal in front of you, soggy and cold. but it takes you a moment to realise that he isn’t laughing along with you.
“you’re johnny's ex, right?” he says, putting a piece of kung pao chicken into his mouth, chewing on it as he looks at you, his eyes intense yet fearfully playful, making you feel on edge, unsettled.
“yes..” you reply, “wh-”
“he cheated on you, right?”
the question knocks you off your tracks, making you almost choke on your food. these invasive questions, his amount of knowledge of you and johnny, it made you wonder what he really wanted from you.
“you want something, don’t you?” you ask, putting down your chopsticks and leaning your head on your hands, subsequently making your face fall closer to his.
he looks up from his dish, surprised yet delighted to see you so close, a smirk lining his lips.
“and what if i did?” he smiles, “would you say yes to a stranger.”
the implication in his voice, the sensuality of his eyes on yours, it has you questioning so many things: what does he want? who is he? why is he so interested in your past relationship?
but each of those questions are answered as he leans back in his chair, lifting his hips up to adjust his body to make room for his legs below the shitty, plastic table.
“i’m just like you.” he says, “my ex comes home, drowned in the scent of my least favorite cigarettes, mind fried by alcohol. and here i still am, wondering who decided to mess with what’s mine, who she decided it would be a wonderful idea to cheat on me with.” his eyes are still at yours, studying your every reaction. he’s right, that is exactly how you remember that night.
“so?” you ask.
“so.. you're going to tell me that you don’t care who he did it with? who he took below him that night whilst you stayed at home, not a clue in the world? it doesn’t intrigue you the tiniest bit?” he finally sits up from his chair, face to face with you as he tilts his head, eyes travelling to each corner of your face, as if he is reading your skin like it’s the words on the page of a book.
you gulp, “i do. every day.”
he smirks again before leaning back in his chair, “atta girl.”
whilst he waves over the waiter to take your food away, you begin to think to yourself about yuta’s words. he was right, you do care, and it kills you that you’ll never know.
unless..
“your proposal.” you ask.
“my proposal…” he tucks a strand of his hair behind his ear, growing slightly damp from the steam in the air. “my proposal is that we spy on each other's exes. you befriend nari whilst i befriend johnny, our sole purpose being to find out who they cheated on the other with. that way we both get what we want.”
as you’re listening to the words leave yuta’s mouth, you do everything in your power to process them. as much as your mind is telling you how horrible of an idea this is, to meddle in somebody else’s business, there’s a voice in your head reminding you of that night, the cold air that surrounded you, the orange juice carton that laid out, still and untouched on the side.
the blue scrunchie.
“i’ll do it.” you say, “i’ll befriend her.”
his smile appears once more.
but for all you knew, you just made a deal with the devil.
and there was absolutely no going back.
that next week, you spent each hour of each day, cautiously walking round campus, awaiting a call, a text, anything from yuta, so as to begin his plan. but there was nothing. you contemplated asking mark, but from his cheeky remarks about your date and endless questions about what you thought of yuta, you had somewhat of an idea that yuta had told him that the very opposite of what had actually happened that night, had occurred.
you finish packing up your books and your laptop from the cafe table you’re sitting at, stuffing your papers in your bag and walking toward the campus entrance, deciding to cut through the engineering block in order to get to your car.
it’s raining outside, a horrific portrayal of the peace you were formally feeling, interrupted, disturbed.
for as you're walking, you notice the familiar sheen of dark leather, shining from the shoulders of someone standing horrifically close to someone very familiar to you.
yuta is standing, engaged in what seems like a deep conversation, with your ex-boyfriend.
but yuta’s eyes are seemingly fixated on you.
as soon as you notice them, you slide behind the back of a bookshelf, luckily situated on the edge of the hall and easily blocking you from johnny’s sight. yuta, however, had watched you hide, second by passing second.
you peep your head around the corner of the shelf, watching as yuta whispers something to johnny who immediately walks off. not once did his eyes leave yours, not once did he look away.
once he had left enough time for johnny to be far enough in the distance not to notice anything, he raises his eyebrows, lifting his hand to outstretch one finger, signaling you to come over to him.
hesitantly, but definitely not out of your own will, you do as such, walking closer and closer to him, like he’s an impending doom that is laid out before you, tempting yet horrifically wrong.
“i’m keeping my side of the deal. why aren’t you?” he questions, arms crossing over his chest.
“what?”
“you need me to speak up?” his eyebrows rise in curiosity.
you definitely didn’t mishear him, you think to yourself. but you definitely didn't understand what the hell he was talking about.
“why aren’t i keeping my side of the deal. that’s what you asked me.”
“oh so she can hear me.”
your eyes narrow at his, the disgust in your face at his jestering evident as he laughs to himself.
you sigh, “i don’t know anything about this girl, yuta. a little bit of help would be nice.”
“am i not helping you enough?”
“yuta.” you’re starting to get annoyed. as the lack of people in the hall, luckily for you, is starting to decrease, you exhale, pulling yuta’s arm and dragging you both into an empty classroom.
holding out your hand, arm outstretched before you in his direction, you present to yuta your phone, screen illuminated on the ‘add contact’ screen.
yuta looks between the screen and you, a smirk lining his lips.
“you already have my number, darling, is all this spying making your memory go foggy?”
rolling your eyes, you explain to him that it’s nari’s number that you want.
yuta takes the phone, typing in her number before passing it back to you.
“you have a week.” yuta says, “and therefore so do i. understood?”
you nod before yuta nods back, turning away from you and walking out the door.
it’s when you look down that you notice that yuta hadn’t just added his ex-girlfriends number to your phone, no.
he had sent her a message.
your eyes close in annoyance, a sigh escaping you as you process the words on the screen below you.
‘i’m in class 7B in the engineering block. meet me right now. - yuta’s secret admirer ;)’
oh how you’re going to kick his ass.
sitting on one of the tables, you wait for yutas ex-girlfriend, nari, to enter the room. after about 5 minutes of waiting, you hear a delicate knock on the door.
“come in.” you yell, looking up from your phone and placing it on the table beside you.
as she walks in, her light hair swinging behind her, you roll your eyes at the stubborn yet surprised look on her face. her eyes widen briefly before returning back to normal.
“and you are?” she says.
“i’m not yuta’s secret admirer, so you can wipe that look off your face.” you say, bluntly.
taken aback, she folds her arms.
“what is it? and how’d you get my number? is this about-”
“the student union board, you’re an ambassador so your number’s up there. though i’m sure you’re aware of that considering how many calls you must get.” you laugh, the sarcasm lining your voice. you know you should probably be a little nicer to her if you want to find out who she cheated on yuta with, but you can’t help but think about how you felt the night johnny came home, and therefore, how yuta must have felt. after all, this girl is just like johnny.
“i’m not yuta’s secret admirer,” you repeat, “but i am his friend.”
“right.” she says, laughing.
“what’s funny?”
“that’s what they all say. they all think they know him. they all think that he’s this perfect image of a person, no faults, no flaws. jungwoo is his bestfriend and even yet, he doesn’t know him. it’s funny, that’s all.”
you squint your eyes in confusion. “that’s easy for you to say, it’s not like you’re a perfect saint either.”
she scoffs. “so he told you, huh?”
“could have probably figured it out by meeting you if im honest, but yes, he told me.”
she steps closer to you.
“who told you? yuta? or was it johnny?”
“why would johnny tell me that you cheated on yuta?”
“so it was yuta? you want to know why i cheated on yuta?”
your brows are etched with confusion.
she stands, looking you up and down but your form stays sat on the table, one leg crossed over the other.
“that’s the only reason you want me? nothing else?” she says.
you nod before she continues, but you sense an odd feeling of relief trace her features. “all yuta did was lie to me. day in, day out. ‘nari don’t worry ill be back before you’re asleep.’ ‘im just going to the store.’ ‘i have an assignment due.’ every single lie he told me, every single excuse he made. he hid it all from me. he’s a liar!”
you can see she’s getting physically angry even talking about it.
perfect. get angry. that only makes this so much easier.
“hid what from you?”
slowly, but ever so harshly, you watch as her features contort from anger, fading into a smile as it rests on her face.
“no…” she whispers. “no, you don’t get to know.”
“what?”
“if i had to suffer, if i had to discover this secret of his the way i did, then no, you’re not getting this any easier than i did. if he lied to me, then he can lie to his new bitch too.”
and with that, she turned on her heel, swiftly pulling the door to a slam behind her.
her words echoed in your mind. over and over.
but one word stuck out in particular to you.
one word:
secret.
yuta was hiding something.
from you, from his friends.
from the world.
masterlist — next
notes; hope you enjoyed so far. this is just the beginning 😟😟 so excited for this plot to progress u have nooo idea. lmk your theories 😋😋
taglist; @sleepyvic @thegracerammy @jenohyun @spicyryujin @do-you-remember-summer-127 @pandagirl753 @flamingi @nattan127 @peterm4rker @lesuneczka @kongjjen-recs
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Villareal Household 1.2
Part two of this Halloween-y and fun side story using this gorgeous cc and build by @surely-sims and @doctorsimcraft! If you get an invitation to Magic Town, make sure you go 😈
PREV | NEXT
TRANSCRIPT
Luna: So…what’s it like working with Akira? I mean, you two do jobs for my dad, right? And–
JJ: Don’t do that.
Luna: Do what? Cheat at chess?
JJ: Fuck chess. Akira is not good for you.
Luna: Why not? The fae are truthful, right? I heard my dad say it: they can’t lie. JJ: That doesn’t mean they don’t lie. And anyway, Akira is supremely fucked up.
Luna: I’m not afraid of that! My dad is the head of La Cosa Simstra. And he’s the…you know.
JJ: I do know. And you can’t even say it. That is a huge ass sign that you and Akira would never work.
JJ: Listen, I’m just saying he’s cruel. All fae are. Even when they’re pretty or say nice shit, they won’t think twice about slitting your throat.
Luna: I thought werewolves got along with everyone but vampires.
JJ: We do. This ain’t about that. Akira is a friend, but I’m trying to help you.
Luna: Fine. Whatever. I get it.
-----
MEANWHILE...
Gemma: And my 8th great-grandmother was a gardener. Her name was Constance, and she believed in good manners. She had—
Siobhan: You know what? I think I’m gonna go find Luna. You wait here.
Gemma: Finally.
-----
Mr. Mysterio: Lady, for the last time, this is a magic show, not a concert. The bit is over.
Sofia: It’s never over! I think the audience wants to hear more of me! But you won’t let them.
Sofia: But you know what? I don’t care. I QUIT!
Mr. Myserio: You don’t work here!
-----
Luna: Look! The Fortune Teller is finally coming back to her tent. Let’s do that! And Luna and Siobhan are walking over, too.
Sofia: Can you tell me about my future, but like, in a chill way?
Siobhan: I’m not paying for this.
Luna: Um, sorry about them, we really do want our fortunes read.
Claire Voyant: It is not even a question. I have been waiting for you three.
#ts4#simblr#Extra Chronicles#subplot:villareal#luna please stop having a crush on akira#its not gonna end well#i think mr mysterio and sofia bjersen might fight
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"Block people you disagree with" is all fine and well but actually my hobbies include reading folks i disagree with's posts like the morning news so if i block too many accounts i'll have nothing to read
#i'd get some wild accusations thrown my way if you saw my search history on tumblr#but the truth is i just like reading what all sides are saying#altho con: sometimes i see youse arguing with folks i /don't even agree with/ but whose posts i've been reading#and think 'oh my God are you stupid you are making a strawman you are not gonna be taken seriously and they'll just laugh you off'#i'm saying you sometimes argue with people and accuse them of doing the things they're against and think youse do#which is honestly a result of the block folks you disagree with policy but well yanno
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i have this sinking weird feeling that i may be losing a friend of mine over the Israel vs Palestine conflict.
as a white jew, i stand with the Palestinians and 110% see the truth. i am not blinded by my judaism or my privilege and i did the research i needed to do, i did the unlearning of everything i had been taught in Hebrew school growing up. i am entirely anti-zionist.
but my family is jewish, i have many jewish friends, and i am the only one out of them it seems so far that went and did this researching, learning, and unlearning to understand the truth and the evils that my people committed.
as a jew, so many people stop their thinking at “well the jews survived the holocaust so they deserve a land that is theirs” and that is why so many jews are zionists, blind to the fact that the way israeli’s went about taking the land was by means of genocide, torture, and wiping out an entire population of palestinians. these actions of the israeli people is what created hamas in the first place.
i may be losing a friend because so many jews in my life fail to think critically, to learn, unlearn, and understand a new pov. but i flushed out all my conservative friends in 2020, i’ll do it again now if i have to for this.
#i might be losing this friend not even bc i’m mad or bc we fought#we had a debate#i had an answer or was able to point out a lie or bias or something in every point they made#not bc i’m cocky but bc they were wrong and i was going by history aka the truth#the points they were making were all pro-zionism which is what i was brainwashed to be as a kid too#so it was so easy to debunk and shut down each and every one#and they didn’t like that lol#that’s why i say#before you open your mouth#before you debate#READ. LEARN. EDUCATE YOURSELF.#she shut down from anger and frustration#she chose to end the convo bc she had no points left to make and i could’ve kept going and making more on the side of the palestinian people#so if this is how our friendship ends bc she can’t separate debates from just us talking as people too#so be it#i choose to be on the side of human rights for ALL#not the side of genocide
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Traitors Among Us
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x Fem!Reader Task Force 141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)
PART 2
Part Three: The Guilty Plea
Part Four: The Verdict Due
Summary: You're a rat, a traitor. At least that's what Task Force 141 believes due to the evidence and claims scattered against you. It doesn't matter what you say, everyone's against you, ready to end you for it...until the truth comes out.
Warning(s): Torture, Heavy Angst, etc.
If you liked this would you Buy my a Coffee?
---
Drip.
Drip..
Drip...
Your shoulders seize up involuntarily as freezing droplets continue to hit your skin, eyes squeezed shut to try to ignore the sound that had been going on for who knows how long.
Another drop of water hits your spine from the faucet placed above you, it's cold as it runs down your bare skin. It feels like ice. Hitting the same spot over and over and over...
Drip...
Not even able to take a deep breath, you release a strained cry, it can hardly leave you, not that you hadn't cried enough already. You could feel the dried blood, tears and snot still on your face and a testament to your torment. You haven't been able to get the metallic taste of your blood of of your mouth since you got in here.
You breathe slowly, trying to relieve the pain in your chest. Body positioned downwards, chest pressed down to your knees, a leather buckle holds you down and over a metal stool. Wrists torn open by old shackles and stretched upwards to connect to the steel pipe in the middle of the room.
The stress position had been Johnny's idea, putting you in it to begin with. The bastard...
Kyle had been in and out to collaborate with Price on the interrogation, he didn't have the heart to do you any harm like his Captain. But, that didn't stop him from stomaching your screams as he turned the handle up, piercing cold crashing down atop you, it beats down on your back, by the time it's done your shaking, and your skin a bruising purple hue. It goes on like that for hours, even as you beg. He reads you the files again.
Price would then take the baton from the corner of the room, the side of your face already swollen from the last strike, you were seeing red out of your left eye and soon you wouldn't be able to see out of it if the swelling continued.
"Please..." you shivered, miserably.
"Over in a jiff, love, but i need somethin' from you, you know that." Was his reply, he tapped the baton against the metal below you, the reverb makes you jump each time, leaving you to stare at it as you watched his boots walk around you.
"Cap'n, It's not...It's not--me..." you tried, breathless. "I'd never.."
The steel baton came down on your shoulder, first. There was an immediate response from your constricted muscles, limbs that had all tensed up at once despite their numbness. Pulling at the shackles that kept you in place, the hit shocks you, nearly silencing you completely, it hurts, then it burns. Mouth open in a silent scream, you squeeze your eyes shut in an effort to block out the pain that crawled through your shoulder. "It's not me!"
You've been suffering from hypothermia for a few days since then. Your shoulder crushed right out of place or just plain broken, you weren't sure. It's not like you could feel much of your arms in this position.
It hurt. Not just the painful strain that this position was currently putting on your muscles, but everything else...
Of course, you've handled torture alike this before. Captured and tortured by enemies, ransomed for pay and fought tooth and nail to live, then found your way from that hell...only for the men who you'd kill for, to do the same thing to you with no remorse.
In the quiet of the empty room, you sobbed in agony. Squeezing your fists, but you couldn't even feel them, as far as you knew your fingers could only twitch in response to your demand.
You weren't sure what you were doing here.
Well, you knew. There was a mole, all evidence pointing to you, whatever it was had completely stunted their mission earlier in the week, left them hiding in a safe house for days until they were picked up by evac. Apparently, you'd leaked mission details to some hostiles over seas, you weren't sure which ones, they were hoping you could tell them. You had absolutely nothing, lost.
Of course, they didn't believe you. Although you expected to have at least a sliver of trust, someone to speak up against these claims and believe you...
It must've been too much to ask.
It came out of nowhere, at first you had been in bed with Simon, your fucking Fiancé, then that meeting with Price, then just...they'd cornered you in that room. Knocked you out without even an explanation, woke you up strapped down, confused, stripped of your uniform and feral as you demanded answers. Nobody listened to you.
That first night you thought you were gonna die. The second night you thought you had. The third night you were just convinced this was your hell.
You were soaked to the bone, and unable to stop shivering. The only sound you could hear was your own chattering teeth in this never-ending void of darkness.
It was so fucking dark in here, your eyes darting around to every corner, hoping for even a measly crack of light that your eyes could adjust to. Every sound, scratch, scrape or click made you jump, you couldn't see shit in here, so just about everything made you hyper aware. You couldn't help your anxiety as the sound of the faucet, the constant drops against your spine, the jingle of your shackles and the whimpers that echoed against the walls as you struggled to comfortably breathe. Maybe it was the thought of a mouse crawling up the stool and along your skin, or someone in here just staring at you in the corner, or the door finally opening for Price to start slicing into you demanding answers you didn't have.
You were on the cusp of losing your mind. If you hadn't already.
But it's been a few hours since then...
Maybe even a few days...
It could even have been a week.
You weren't too sure.
Simon had been the last one in here. He'd pulled the strap loose around your neck, hauling you up to an upright position by your jaw, eliciting a whimper from your lips. Able to breathe a bit easier, your lungs finally decompressing and you gulp down air greedily, "Simon..." this had been the first time you'd seen him since. He wears his balaclava, he is Ghost, not your Simon Riley.
As your bloodshot, swollen eyes raise to look into his cold ones, so unfeeling. You hadn't even realized you were so hopeful for his trust in you until then, looking at you like you were absolutely nothing to him, the same look he always had before pulling the trigger. "Simon, please, stop this..." your words slurred by your shivering, exhausted. "You know me...please."
Your tears slide over the leather of his gloved hands, while he holds tight to your face and cuts your pleads short with a painful squeeze. "Shut up," he says. His eyes are blank, but his voice is low and seething. "Shut the fuck up!" Simon harshly grits out to you, jostling you harshly. You squeeze your eyes shut, weeping miserably, throat closing up to your agony.
He had to know that you would've never done this to him. He should've known that. Given you the benefit of the doubt at least. You'd have never done this to him...
"I'm sorr-" you try, he squeezes harder to silence you swiftly, and snatches a tiny bowl off the tray he'd brought in. Raising your jaw a bit higher, he pours down a chunky broth into your mouth, letting it all just fall down to your throat. It's disgusting. He doesn't ease up for even a second as you toss and turn your head to breathe.
"Don't say a fucking word," he seethes, his hand enveloping your neck and keeping your head raised upward. "As if I should believe you..."
He then takes the next cup to do the same, your eyes bloodshot wide and you jerk away from him as you choke, unable to stomach anything, but he doesn't let you. This time you inhale accidentally, blocking your airway, eyes watering as you writhe for oxygen, your shackles clang violently as you attempt to retaliate, the first fight you've put up in days. His grip doesn't let up, even as you struggle and start to vomit up whatever he decided to shove down your throat.
When he finally lets go, you curve over and heave up whatever's left in your mouth, hyperventilating as you empty your guts on the floor. Hacking up whatever you can, it hurts, your throat burning from the sobs that leave you in between coughs. "If you love me, if you--ever had--" you spat at him. You'd given him everything, every part of yourself, nearly given him your life in the battlefield, and yet...it wasn't enough. "You would fucking believe me!" your voice cracks with the effort it takes to scream at him, to curse him to hell.
"My trust? That's what you want," Hollow eyes stare back at you, his attention flickering around to the uncomfortable shift of your shoulders in those cuffs. Your swollen left eye that had been hit so hard, the white of it had filled with blood. The black and blue littering your sides and your spine, the loss of color in your skin from the stress position and the cold that had you uncontrollably shivering. "You've had it before. You must've sold that to them too."
Your head drops to the stool again, releasing a heavy breath. "It wasn't worth much, if it was so easy to lose..."
Usually it's not very easy to set Simon off, you've known him always to be quite mellow, besides the barely concealed rage he had settled in his chest since you've known him. But, today, you were an exception.
Fisting a hand in your hair, Simon yanks at it, pulling you upwards for your to face him. His other hand coming up to wrap around your throat before your tortured scream can even manifest. In that moment, it feels as if he'd snapped your spine in half, having not used the muscles to stretch that area in over a week. Your shackled wrists shifting in the cruel position.
His eyes are wild and rageful, the balaclava that covers him twists just the same, his grip very telling to his violence as he squeezes down any chance at air or even a sentence. "Easy to lose..." he repeats, spitting in your face as he strangles you. "Easy t'lose your life! If you don't tell me the fucking truth," he pulls out the knife you'd seen him slit so many throats with before, you hear the familiar sound of it first then its cold steel pressing into the side of your ribs. "I'm gonna carve out your heart, and I'll take it real slow, let you feel every little thing I do to you in here," he shakes you harshly as a startled cry escapes you, your tears are burning hot against your cheeks. "You don't get to cry. Or whine. Or beg!"
"Stop--" you try to squirm away from him, to get as far away as possible, from this place, from this moment.
"Just tell me the truth," Simon's face twisted in agony, for just a second, his thumb drags along your jaw, meaningfully. "You'd be doing us both a favor..."
As his vast hand finally loosed around your neck just enough to hold you up, awaiting the bitter truth. Simon's knife catches on the protrusion of your ribs, nicking the skin, drawing blood on purpose. You stare up at the ceiling, the flickering old lights, the dripping faucet that's tormented your already fragile state for weeks now. "The truth..." you spoke, hoarsely. "You've all shown me...it doesn't matter to you. If it ever... Believe what you want--" you close your eyes, you're exhausted. Sleep had evaded you for days. "You and your truth and this team, you can all go to hell."
And finally he lets you go, letting your fall forwards, unable to find the relief of a cold floor but back to the strenuous position you'd been placed in. "AH!" nearly popping your shoulders out of place, or maybe they had, you bite down on your tongue, shaking in silence.
If you could see Simon's face, you could've relished in the uncertainty flickering in his eyes, the sudden doubt that led his knife back in its holder and his nails to bite into the flesh of his palms. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing leaves him, instead he stands there.
You can't say a thing to him now, everything that's happened was just a little reminder that whatever you said, whatever you did, it didn't matter. Their minds had already been made. You really would die here.
Simon stands there a little longer, he doesn't say anything, you're not sure if he stays there to watch your suffering a little longer or to wait to say another heart-wrenching thing. Maybe he's just there to wait for you to die. But, he just watches as you wretch and cry in a ball atop that stool.
He leaves not long after, he didn't bother to strap you down this time. He left the old light on, but it must've been older than you thought.
The single bulb fizzled out completely hours ago. Not unless one of them decided to cut the silence and turn on the light to start another 'questioning', so suddenly being able to see more than darkness wasn't anything to be excited about.
They'd leave you in the dark until then, to await the next moment any of them would grace you with their presence.
To be honest, you'd imagined you'd be stronger than this. But, there was nothing to hold onto, so what did strength matter?
It was too late anyway.
They'd broken you days ago.
---
The truth had come out, two days later.
"Oh god..."
"Oh my fucking God," Simon rushed down the corridor, Price tailing right behind him. "Oh my God!" his normal monotone voice now a mess of fear and panic, breathing harsher, on the cusp of hyperventilating with every stride as he ran faster than he ever had in his life.
Finally getting to the interrogation wing of the department, he bangs his fist on the plexiglass of those silently monitoring the rooms, "Open the fucking door!" he's buzzed in before he can pull on the handle another time.
Rushing down the hall to the now green lit room, lights flickering to life with every step closer down the hall of empty rooms. He nearly rips the door off its hinges as he bursts inside, the lights of the your tiny prison don't come to life as they should. Light spilling into the cell, to hit your limp figure first.
He doesn't deserve to say your name. "(Y/n)," Simon rushes over, to his knees instantly. A puddle of vomit, water and spoiled broth soaks through his uniform.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry," he sobs out his mistakes, unhooking your chains and cutting through your buckles as fast as he could. "Oh my god, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he catches his fiancé as you collapse, turning over and off the stool, your legs having lost all sense of feeling. You fall into his arms, catching you carefully. "Price!" he cries out, desperately.
"They're on the way!" Your captain assures, he sees the medical team rushing down the hallway, a stretcher, a box of medical supplies. Christ.
You're freezing to the touch, your skin a hue of blue, not to mention the bruises, the cuts and the swollen areas throughout your face and spine. You suddenly inhale, sharply, coughing terribly. You're sick, breathing shakily, "Simon...?" you breathe, confused. You can't see. Your eyes swollen shut from your torture at their hands.
"It's me, it's me," Simon assured, although he knew it probably brought you no comfort. He snatches the blanket offered up by Price, your captain a mess of himself, holding himself together at the doorway, nails biting into the steel.
As Simon wraps you in the first glimpse of warmth you've had in days, you ease up a bit, fingers twitching upwards to pull the threads closer around yourself. "It wasn't..." you shiver, Simon listens intently as he rises with you in his arms, running off to meet the medical team halfway. "It wasn't me..." you gasp out. "It wasn't..."
Simon can't say a thing as he hears your tormented voice stutter in fear of him, lips pressed tight together, heart sinking and as the nurses take your body, he collapses to his knees.
Part 2
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#cod x reader#ghost x yn#call of duty x reader#cod angst#simon riley angst#ghost angst#simon riley angst x reader
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✧ i'll show you (if you'll let me).
⎯ there is a certain touch of beauty to witnessing a side of theirs revealed to you so naturally. it becomes as easy as breathing if you just let it happen... so, will you? ( or in other words, a way you enable them to be themselves. )
#STARRING. aventurine, dr. ratio, sunday, dan heng ft. gn!reader. { 4.2k words }
#TAGS. fluff, established relationship. more: minor spoilers for aven's backstory (described mostly abstractly), ratio is referred to by his first name, i called sunday a nerd (sorry), dr. ratio & dan heng are certified workaholics.
#P/S. i think i may have yapped a little considering the word count but i hope it ends up being a good kind of yapping. tysm for reading! ♡
© seelestia on tumblr, may 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.
★ 〜 masterlist.
will you let aventurine hold you close when he sleeps? . . . whether it's an arm slung over your hips or his nose buried in your shoulder or fingers tracing shapes onto your skin. he doesn't ask for too much; only that you grant him the permission to cradle you in his arms, somewhere within his reach. it's a habit, he hopes you don't mind.
you have to wonder, though. considering the plenitude of pillows on the bed, why do his hands still seek you out? with all the credits he spent on those cotton-stuffed angels, you thought aventurine would relish them a bit more. but ah-ah, see? that is where you're wrong. sure, the pillows are extremely comfy but he always has a preference for things with much, much more value.
and the truth — well, his truth — is that even the softest cushions from oti mall couldn't compare to the privilege of laying his head on your chest, he'd say. especially when you brush his hair with your fingers - oh, one of the easiest ways to paradise. truly, the best value there is! can you blame a man for being honest and a little lovesick?
(“sappy,” you accuse. he pouts, offended.)
but aventurine has a flair for theatrics, you know that. his witty quips are as feather-light in weight as light-hearted they are in intent. but his touch - in the forms of kind caresses or rhythmic taps to a tune from his forgotten culture - lingers on your skin, with a yearning so heavy. you question whether it could be nostalgia or instead, silent awe at a reality he never imagined could ever be his.
(kakavasha remembers. clinging onto you for warmth like he once did to his sister, falling asleep with her prayers to mama fenge in his ears. the avgins believed gaiathra triclops to be the symbol of humility; so naturally, their prayers to her should also be humble, not too quiet but not too loud. all in moderation. for a frail child like him, those gentle prayers alone were enough to let him drift into a dreamless slumber and to ignore the shackles of reality if not for the briefest moments.
time passed. came a time where the melody he associated with slumber was no longer a soft voice lulling him but pure static, a noise to distract his mind from the chains around his wrists. they burned themselves onto his skin, searing, but he was already too familiar with the sensation to care. the mark on his neck was unwelcome, laughing at him, but he too laughed at his own pitiful reflection so what's the difference, anyway?
time passed again, the call of slumber then turned into clattering noises of chips doused in gold and dice thrown onto a surface. he thought it'd stay that way forever but before long, it morphed into up-and-down waves he couldn't decipher initially. they're gentle, faint like a human's breathing: your breathing as you allowed him to lie beside you for the first time, he realized back then. although he deems himself unworthy, an ugly grime on your pristine existence that still insists on cradling him — but despite it all, he finds this last melody to be his favorite so far.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
ticklish.
the sensation, minor yet still impactful enough, causes you to stir out of sleep. the light of noon greets your eyes and you become vaguely cognizant that the root of it all is the tufts of blond hair brushing against your neck.
there is a solid weight on your torso and a pair of slender arms loosely wrapped around your waist - but they're nothing you haven't grown used to. you comb your fingers through the messy locks licking at your skin, instinctively, and the fragrant scent of what you register as penacony's limited edition perfume kisses your nose.
“...ugh, what system time is it?” you let out a grunt, shifting around slightly to let your limbs breathe. you don't get an answer to your question, instead, aventurine's arms reestablish their hold on you. hooking you closer to him as if to wring out whatever proximity is left, if there is even any. his simple proclamation of “who cares?”, in a sense.
there it is again, that ticklish feeling. you feel soft lips grazing feather-like kisses against your collarbone. oh, he definitely isn't letting go just yet. truly merciless, a dozy morning thought accompanied by your tired sigh. the noise still comes out fond, however, so your feigned act of annoyance is fooling no one.
“it's warm, you know,” you grumble. but the yawn escaping your mouth right after betrays whatever stern image you're trying to adopt. not like you can ever be too stern with him. aventurine knows this, yes, and he gives you an A+ for effort each time.
“mhm,” he finally speaks, snuggling into your chest with no care about anything in the world, “g'morning to you too, lovely.”
his favorite mornings aren't his favorite if not thanks to your innocuous complaints and delightful attempts at pushing his pretty face away, no? a lazy grin graces the stoneheart's lips and eyes like exquisite gems, although sleepy, flutter open to gaze at you languidly. he takes the sight of you in then lets out a sigh - a fond noise just like yours earlier; the both of you really are two peas of a pod.
you must look a terrible mess right now and yet, the sight of you has aventurine smiling dazedly. “ah, what a spectacular sight. i really am the luckiest man in the galaxy,” he hums in approval. you want to roll your eyes but stops as he leans up to pepper (ah, one necessary correction: smother) kisses all over your face, arms dragging you closer to his chest like a cage. your eyes widen comically. what a nefarious trap, he has the advantage!
every remnant of sleepiness clinging to your mind evaporates. you squeal with laughter, shoving at his shoulder using the strength of a baby deer because no, you don't really want him to stop. he knows that too, of course.
“mwah, mwah, mwah—”
“pfft...! kakavasha, i can't breathe!”
(he has half a mind to pinch his skin, as if to remind himself that this is real. he can feel your giggles tickling his skin as if to tell him in return: yes, you are.)
will you let veritas pour his heart out after a long day? . . . well, that could count as too much of an overstatement. others say, “that man is like a brick wall!” some more dare to whisper, “doesn't his temper already exhaust whatever emotional quota he has?!” needless to say, everyone knows that dr. ratio is a man ruled by the mind, not by the heart. alright, that's quite true - but does that imply he has discarded the latter altogether? if so, then you beg to differ.
(not in the literal sense, of course! the heart is a vital organ of the body. saying otherwise would be akin to spitting on his shiny phd in biology... or his seven other phd's at that.)
the pedestal which the public places veritas ratio on reaches still great heights, even if it may not rival an ivory tower a member of the genius society resides in. it is so high up that mundane troubles of those below can't reach a genius like him, surely? well, as tall as he stands - somehow, the universe grants you a front row seat for a particular sight that proves otherwise.
if only they knew the doctor has a habit of mumbling these incomprehensible (more like barely intelligible) grumbles under his breath, striking a resemblance similar to a grumpy old cat. if you strain your ears hard enough, you might catch a “...this has to be it...” or “...i dare not think so...” from time to time as he roams around the room with materials in his hands.
(absurd, people would say. but you think it's extremely cute.)
veritas doesn't say it out loud - but you can tell by the hunch in his stiff shoulders, by the one or two sighs he huffs every six minutes - that he is itching to tell somebody of all the tomfooleries he has encountered today. of course, the topics he laments about vary; it's only when you hear him exhaling the loudest sigh that you get to find out.
mostly though, it's about his students and remarks on how they can further improve their performance — sure, he could phrase it a little gentler — but you still find it sweet that he cares. if not that, then it'd be about indolent colleagues, complicated formulae and more. on some days, he'll even let out an exasperated “truly mind-boggling! could you believe that?” to which you'd reply with an “uh-huh, go on.”
at the end of a ranting session, veritas takes careful note to leave a kiss on your person afterward. no matter where it is - on the lips, the cheek or your hand. no matter where you are - sitting on the couch beside him, behind the kitchen counter or across the room. the warmth that stays on your skin when he pulls away is somewhat tingly. appreciative, you think, especially when he looks at you with such loving eyes that his colleagues would be sure to retch in shock if they were a witness.
looks like you are right on the money; he has never discarded his heart, after all. so yes, to rephrase - will you lend veritas a listening ear when he needs it?
✧ a moment among the stars:
“...yet another headache.”
as unsubtle as ever, the doctor's complaint is barely hidden behind the guise of a mumble. those neatly styled violet bangs of his aren't doing an excellent job at concealing that frown strewn across his forehead either. veritas's posture is tense, a dead giveaway, as he goes over the piles of documents on his desk.
you cock an eyebrow upon seeing the stamp belonging to the intelligentsia guild on one of the papers. definitely work. it has been two system hours since he took a seat at the work desk, you concur, or lifted a finger to do something besides flipping through drafts. a mere glance at the stack of documents is enough to convince you that those researchers at the guild must really value veritas's input.
a perk of being a genius, maybe? the phantom of a weight lands alight on your shoulders. with a mug of black coffee in hand, you make your way to him. your footsteps are without a sound, only the noise of porcelain being placed down onto woodenware is enough to announce your arrival. “rough day at work?” you ask, peering down at his progress.
(a doctor's handwriting really is something. you resist the urge to squint.)
veritas doesn't seem to mind. if the way he smiles at the sight of you, albeit tiredly, is any indication. “hah,” he rests a hand on his temple and scoffs wryly, “so much grievances like you wouldn't believe.”
oh, he is teetering on the precipice of a tangent but stops himself. “...fret not, i'm fine. this is hardly something beyond my expertise,” he shakes his head, the motion causing his reading glasses to slide down a smidgen down the bridge of his nose.
you're too familiar with the self-assured bravado he puts on. you're quite endeared, actually. “okay, mr. i-require-no-rest,” you take the glasses off his face and he breaks into a frown. at the childish tone you're using or for having his reading glasses taken away, you don't know.
“why don't you take a little break?” you suggest. veritas sighs, “need i remind you that dilly-dallying is for fools who wish to waste their time?” and crosses his arms defiantly. he knows your strategy, he has come face-to-face with it several times.
“do you think a break with me is a waste of time?” you present him with a rhetorical question, quite the difficult adversary.
(and he keeps losing to it every single time.)
“well, that's—” the doctor nearly splutters, taken aback. “that's different if you insist on inserting yourself as a variable,” he infers, putting emphasis on the last part accompanied by an incredulous look.
“the answer is up for debate then,” you shrug with a cheeky smile. your hand then deftly lifts the mug you previously set down to your lips, veritas's eyes dilate in bewilderment. “so,” you hum at the rich taste of your handiwork, “wanna tell me about your day? haven't heard about the council in a while.”
“you—” he gasps in defeat, “i thought that was supposed to be my mug of coffee.”
(he has a slight pout on his face, but you dare not point it out lest it disappears in the blink of an eye.)
“our mug of coffee,” you take a few more sips with an innocent decadence. “all is fair in love and war, doctor.”
“i can never win with you,” he buries his face in his palm with a groan. you laugh heartily, a sound that chimes like quaint little bells in his ears - it elicits a reaction from his lips, for them to quirk up at the corners in the smallest of ways.
“regardless. . .” veritas relents and reaches for your free hand. you let him. “it seems a break wouldn't be so amiss, after all,” he then presses a kiss on the side of your wrist, affectionate.
(your heart skips a beat.)
will you let sunday regale you with facts you've never heard of before? . . . a man of eloquent words, no less a man of educated mind. you have no doubt that the books in the dewlight pavilion really aren't just there for show - not that you're allowed to browse through them at your own desire. a servant's voice would stop you in your tracks should your fingers ever brush against something in the family's secret bookshelf.
how mysterious.
but sunday makes it known to the staff that you, in particular, are allowed more access to the shelves - perhaps, not too much - but more than even mr. mccoy, at least. with the way you have to crane your neck far up to pinpoint the tallest height that the shelves reach, you wonder: has sunday gone through everything here personally?
your immediate answer is most likely. you know sunday fairly well; to have something that he hasn't scrutinized from the inside out in his possession will surely gnaw away at his psyche incessantly. not being in the know at all times is a looming fear for him. but of course, you have other ways to confirm the answer for yourself.
pick out a book from a shelf there, either intentional or purely arbitrary, and watch as sunday carefully traces his steps towards you. his curiosity is piqued, which topic has caught your interest this time? but he tucks it under proper cordiality. with a hand behind his back, he'd utter your name in the softest tone and ask the familiar question of “would you like to know more?” — asking for your permission to ramble, essentially — you find this tendency of his to be charming, so you nod each time.
(and he smiles when you do. a smile less refined at the edges, kinder and relaxed.)
the best place to start from is always the beginning. you think sunday agrees because he often starts by telling you the history and its origins before moving on to its impact on the galaxy, then his personal stance on the topic. it's a pattern, you notice, his ramblings have a pattern. and it's consistent every time, you might've believed he was reading off a script. and what's more? sunday is blissfully oblivious of it.
fascinating. you ponder: what kind of things you can do with this information? decisions, decisions, decisions. . . but ultimately, you opt for keeping it a secret like a treasure only you're allowed to see.
(that might be true in a way. you don't doubt that robin, his dear sister, is familiar with this side of him. does that mean he treasures you like he does her? your chest starts to feel a bit lighter.)
if you were to point it out, you fear you might never witness it again - goodness, to know that he has been displaying such foolishness or rather, what he viewed as an embarrassing freudian slip in front of you? his wings might as well resort to covering his face for good until the end of time.
as you listen to him talk (with such elegance at that), you can't help whatever tender look you have on your face. really, who would've thought the head of the oak family could be such. . . a nerd?
(you hope in secret that sunday will be more willing to show sides like these to you in the future. and that they're not a weakness at all, not when they're shared with you.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
“it looks like you're fascinated by the dreamscape nursery rhyme this time.”
sunday spares the article in your hold no further inspection. one glance at the cover and walls of memorized information rush to the front of his mind. he looks familiar with it; could it be a part of his childhood too? but then again, everything found here is within his knowledge.
“i am,” you say with intrigue, “it got me ruminating for a while.”
you meet his gaze, stumbling upon yellow irises that glimmer akin to gold under penaconian chandeliers. you think you see a hint of affection in them, swimming around your reflection like a school of fish in a pond. it makes you smile.
he smiles back, oblivious to your thoughts but returns your gesture. he asks, “how so?” and you reply without delay, “i read through it and the morbid undertone took me by surpri—”
or at least, it's supposed to be without delay until you realize sunday has stepped closer in order to peer down at the page you're holding open. and suddenly, you're extremely aware of every minute detail like how his breath brushes against the side of your cheek and how his chest rumbles as he hums in acknowledgement.
(you flush in the neck and he perceives this reaction of yours with mirth.)
“my apologies,” sunday chuckles and pulls away, “i've simply forgotten the rhyme and wished to refresh my memory.”
“somehow, i feel that isn't the case...” you mumble accusingly. that seems to amplify whatever little amusement he gets from flustering you. “oh, my dove. i can assure you that it is,” he caresses your head, a little placatingly.
most times, sunday isn't so laidback about giving affection in public — since he has an image to maintain — so you assume the fact that the servants are out and about, leaving only you and him here, plays a role in his unusual boldness. you accept the gesture with a bashful pout.
“now, where were we?” sunday clears his throat, “ah, yes. some people have noted on the nursery rhyme's strange quality but still, it retains its popularity in penacony. it is also widely assumed that the hound resembles the bloodhound family while—”
you hold back an amused sigh, but it's more out of fondness than anything. he'll start from the history then the effect on the general public, as per usual, but you're not the only predictable one here. you'd listen to him anytime too, won't you?
(you do adore when the head of the oak family would put off his public figure mask around you. if only for just a while.)
will you let dan heng rest his head on your lap when it's just you two? . . . the sense of comfort it provides isn't something he can explain with words. as if he has ever been good with words in the first place. saying a sentence bereft of logical reasoning or witty remarks doesn't come easily to the express’ guard. neither does intimacy. . . but you know that already, don't you?
after all, it isn't a secret that dan heng prefers speaking with his actions. if to show one's intentions is the end goal, then actions are the fastest route to choose. words, although able to sweeten the trip like how a beautiful scenery can, will eventually lead to actions regardless so why take the extra step?
but you're different from him; you articulate what you think and what you mean. you're honest in ways that keep catching dan heng off guard without fail — just like the first time you offered your empty lap to him when his head was swirling in pain — but he supposes that is one of your charms. “words can be useful. we're not all born mind readers,” you told him once and he hummed, accepting of your perspective.
(“look at you two! opposites attract!” march chirped. he recalled shooting her a look of indignation and she rubbed the back of her head sheepishly in response.)
dan heng has learnt to grow used to your propensities - but by far, your shameless invitations are still one matter that can't be comprehended even with time. he cannot understand; how you smile as you sit on his futon in the archives (he doesn't mind), how you link gazes with him so effortlessly, how you pat your lap knowingly and say, “why don't you rest your head here?”
(he has to restrain himself from bursting into flames like a heliobus.)
sometimes, he'll accept reluctantly or he'll decline with an underlying tone of longing he doesn't want you to notice. because as much of a good hold dan heng has on nonchalance, he cannot deny that this particular gesture of yours has left a mark on him.
(it remains persistently.)
when he rests his head on your lap, he can't help but take a deep inhale - your fragrance fills his senses and he discards the selfish desire to keep it all to himself. your fingers are soothing as they thread through his hair gently. the feeling that washes over him is serene, almost comparable to submerging himself in the pure waters of scalegorge waterscape.
when overcome by such a tranquil state of mind, dan heng wonders what expression he might be making at that moment? he always keeps his eyes closed, so it's a shame he may never know. but you do, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so at peace before like he does now.
(perhaps, that's why you keep offering him this in the first place.)
✧ a moment among the stars:
“someone looks tired,” you state with a pointed stare. the archives isn't a room too spacious and the only ones here are you and him. the target of your sentence is obvious.
but dan heng doesn't take the bait, barely looks away from the entry he is currently authoring. still, he spares you a glance and hums glibly, “are you projecting? if so, feel free to use my bed in the meantime.”
you let out a noise, something gibberish that conveys disappointment but it is effectively drowned out by the typing noises. “you haven't even touched the food i bought you,” your voice becomes mellow, “why don't you rest for a while?”
he isn't convinced, you think, since his fingers are still hard at work. the new info the team brought back must've been a lot if he's that focused.
“dan heng?” you try again, hopeful for the last time. you don't take him for a fool, of course, he'll know when he reaches his limit and have proper rest then. but would that really be ideal? a second passes and that hope flickers like a dimming light. but just an inch before the edge of giving up, the typing slows to a stop.
“. . .alright,” he murmurs. finally, after a good hour spent drawing patterns on his backside with your eyes, dan heng turns around to face you. he look tense, you note with abject concern.
“here,” you usher him to your lap, empty and conveniently so. dan heng shoots you a blank look - this isn't the first time you offered and this isn't the first time he reacted like that. you try to suppress a laugh, failing gloriously at it. “just for a little bit,” you utter through a stifled fit of chuckles.
dan heng shakes his head, not in rejection but in defeat. his eyes slip close, second nature, as he leans to situate his head on your lap. you welcome him with a hum and let your fingers card through his hair. a calm sigh falls from his lips like a water droplet in springtime.
“this. . . is nice,” he admits, sudden and unprompted. you nearly doubt your ears for a moment there. did he— “i don't hate it is, uhm, what i mean to say,” dan heng adds and it dawns on you that your ears are still working. his eyes are still closed, not that you'd expect anything else, he prefers to treat it as a shield from being face-to-face with embarrassment.
(or to avoid your ecstatic gaze. he can feel warmth rushing to his cheeks already.)
“i know,” you smile, brushing away a few messy strands from his forehead. he isn't an open book but you think you've read the pages enough to remember all the little details. “but thanks for telling me. i'm no mind reader but i think i can read yours pretty well.”
“i shall provide no further comment,” he holds back an incredulous exhale, yet his lips still curl slightly at the corner. you feel the teeniest desire to trace the curve of his lips with your fingertip but settle for silently admiring them instead.
“it's fine. i know the answer already,” you say, words dripping with affection. such a shame dan heng never looks up at you during a time like this. because if he did, he wouldn't have missed seeing the sheer fondness in your gaze that rains down on him in light showers. a true shame.
(one day, he'll gather the courage. maybe.)
— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated. ♡
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#dr ratio x reader#dr ratio x you#sunday x reader#sunday x you#dan heng x reader#dan heng x you#hsr fluff#hsr headcanons#hsr imagines#seelestial.inks
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HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!
thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)
ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE
simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.
he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.
he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.
but he couldn’t take everything lying down.
did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?
he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.
he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.
he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.
but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.
but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.
simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.
and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?
you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.
the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.
and all the signs pointed to you.
and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.
price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.
johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.
then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.
simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.
maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.
but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.
all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.
and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.
so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.
and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.
even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.
he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.
but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.
the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.
it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.
the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.
“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.
“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”
simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.
“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”
“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”
price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”
“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.
price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”
the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.
he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.
“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.
price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”
simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.
“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”
they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.
pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.
although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.
but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.
an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.
you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.
damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.
you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.
he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.
‘you should have killed me.’
maybe he should have.
thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—
im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!
as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)
#cod mw2 fic#captain john price#gaz call of duty#soap call of duty#ghost call of duty#captain price#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#johnny mactavish#john soap mactavish#johnny soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#John price#simon riley x gn reader#simon riley angst#ghost x gn reader#ghost x you#ghost angst#ghost x reader#ghost cod#141!reader#141 x reader#task force 141
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Hi! Sorry if this is a long request but I remember very early on Sylus saying that he gets easily bored when things aren't exciting and it's mentioned in 1 of his character notes. I was wondering if I can please request a HC were the reader and Sylus are in a relationship but the reader thinks they are just fwb because they remember Sylus saying he gets bored easily, meanwhile Sylus thinks they're in a committed relationship and gets confused when he over hears the reader (maybe talking to her friend?) Saying how she wishes she sometimes had a boyfriend so they could do all the "normal couple things" and he confronts her about it? Thank you!
Sylus claiming you as his
You sat on the edge of the bed, your phone pressed to your ear, your voice soft as you talked to your friend. Sylus was across the room, looking relaxed as he read something on his datapad, seemingly disinterested in your conversation. But that couldn't be further from the truth.
"I just wish I had a boyfriend" you said, a sigh escaping your lips. "Someone to do, you know, couple stuff with. Like dates, going out... all those normal things."
You didn't notice the way Sylus's fingers tightened around the edge of the datapad or the way his sharp gaze flicked toward you at that exact moment. But in the next heartbeat before you could react he was beside you ripping the phone from your grasp with a speed that left you breathless.
"What the hell did you just say sweetie?" His voice was low but there was an edge to it-one that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Sylus, what-" you began but he cut you off, pressing the phone to his chest as he glared down at you, eyes darkening.
"You wish you had a boyfriend?" He repeated your words with a scoff, his brow furrowed. "What do you think this is? Some kind of joke?"
You blinked up at him, heart stuttering. "I thought we weren't... I mean, I didn't think we were actually-"
"Not actually what kitten?" he interrupted, voice rising just slightly. His usual calm, teasing demeanor was gone, replaced by something hard, intense and almost... hurt. "You thought this was some casual thing? Some fling?"
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.
In truth, you had no idea how to answer that.
You'd convinced yourself that Sylus would get bored, that this was all temporary and that treating it like anything more would only end in heartbreak.
His lips curled into a tight, humorless smile.
"Sweetie” he said, voice dripping with disbelief “I don't know what kind of 'fling' you think this is but I sure as hell didn't sign up for that."
The tension in the room was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You bit your lip, trying to gather your thoughts. "You said... you get bored easily” you murmured, your voice barely audible. "I thought... maybe you'd get bored of me too."
For a moment, Sylus said nothing, just stared at you like he was trying to process what you'd just confessed. Then, without warning, a low, incredulous laugh bubbled up from his throat.
"Bored? Kitten, are you serious right now?"
Before you could respond, Sylus closed the distance between you, his hands finding your waist as he yanked you closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You think I'd be spending all my time with you, putting up with all your little antics, if I wasn't serious?"
Your breath hitched as his fingers dug into your skin just enough to make you squirm.
He was mad, no doubt about it but there was something else underneath that anger-something possessive, something that sent heat coursing through your veins.
"You don't need a boyfriend" he murmured, his lips trailing down the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "You already have one."
Your heart stuttered at his words and you felt him smirk against your throat as he started to press slow, deliberate kisses there. "But if you really need proof.."
He bit down gently on your skin, pulling a gasp from your lips as he sucked hard enough to leave a mark—a claim. "I'll remind you."
Your pulse quickened, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he worked his way along your neck, leaving a trail of hickies in his wake. "S-Sylus..." you breathed but the word came out shaky, almost desperate.
"What?" he teased, lips brushing against your collarbone now. "Isn't this what couples do? A normal boyfriend would mark what's his, wouldn't he?"
He tugged at the collar of your blouse, undoing the buttons one by one, his hands moving with practiced ease. Your heart raced, anticipation building as your skin was exposed to the cool air. Sylus's fingers skimmed over the bare skin of your chest, making you shiver, his touch sending a wave of heat through your entire body.
"Sylus" you tried again, your voice coming out in a mix of breathlessness and embarrassment. "This—this isn't..."
"Not couple enough for you?" he finished for you, voice teasing now, the anger from earlier fading into something playful, dangerous. "Because I can keep going, kitten. I can show you just how committed I am."
He kissed you again, harder this time, his tongue tracing the marks he'd left behind and you whimpered softly, your body arching into him as his hands slipped under your blouse. He grinned against your skin, his fingers tracing patterns down your spine as he leaned into you.
"You don't need to look anywhere else” he whispered, voice dark and possessive.
"Because you're already mine. Understand?"
His lips met yours then a kiss that was rough and consuming, filled with all the emotions he hadn't spoken aloud and in that moment, with his body pressing you into the bed and his hands exploring every inch of your skin, you knew one thing for certain:
You'd never been more his than you were right now.
#love and deepspace#lnds sylus#love and deepspace sylus#l&ds sylus#lads sylus#sylus#sylus x reader#sylus x you
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