#double coat closet

[psycholydia]

Traditional Family Room Large elegant open concept dark wood floor and brown floor family room photo with a bar, beige walls, no fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[ucitavanje]

Traditional Family Room - Home Bar

Example of a huge, traditional open-concept family room with a bar, beige walls, no fireplace, and a wall-mounted television.

[ben69solo]

Front Door Mudroom Boise Mid-sized minimalist entryway design example with a light wood floor, white walls, and a gray front door.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster - 

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

[stuffeddeer]

imagine mistaking beastzai as your usual dazai (you thought he wanted to be emo for a day) and like did usual silly cute things with him then dazai came home and he’s like HUH WHO IS THIS GUY R U CHEATING ON ME :(( but in the end you have… double boyfriends but one’s moody and one’s fucking annoying

anons that think alike omg telepathy … use ur powers for good!!! two asks in one btw i feel so productive

alsooo beast!dazai would be giddy like a child to be in the main tl w his love… he’d be twirling you around and enjoying what could’ve been before he has to go back!!! all dazais are cringy and in love w u it's true they told me themselves !!!!

“What’s with the outfit?” You spoke bluntly, clearly a little put off by the reappearance of the black coat and red scarf. “Dude, you look like Mori.” Harsh, sure, but your boyfriend worked so hard to walk alongside you in the light, so the last thing you wanted was to see what would’ve been, if not for — 

Dazai smiled, seemingly amused. “Ah, love, it’s merely a costume. Thought you’d get a kick out of it,” he replies easily, pulling off the long red scarf: a staple of the Port Mafia’s boss.

His words help to relax you, letting out a small sigh as you push the coat off of his shoulders. “Let me grab you your coat, I know it’s around here somewhere…” You flittered about your shared apartment, pulling a backup brown coat from its spot buried underneath your closet. “This better suits you,” you speak under your breath as Dazai pulls it on. The fit seems a little… different. Is it somehow looser than normal? You frown.

“Thank you, love,” he repeated the same pet name. It felt as though he missed saying it, which doesn’t quite make sense.

You choose not to dwell on it — maybe seeing him in black again just rewired your brain for a moment. He’s alive and well in front of you and nothing else matters. A nod is all the reply Dazai gets before you slip on your shoes.

“I thought you might have headed to work early when I didn’t see you in bed this morning, but I guess that’s my fault for assuming the impossible,” you decide to tease.

Dazai easily slips behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin against your shoulder. “Mm… I love you, you know that? Let’s skip work today. We can spend time together, ‘kay?”

He’d always been unpredictable and spontaneous, so you merely laughed in response. “I don’t have work today, remember? But you still do.”

Shaking his head, he pouts — there’s the Dazai you love. “Nope!~ I refuse to go into work today. I’m spending my whole day with my love!” He practically jumps for joy, hands moving to gently hold your waist. “Let’s bake cookies.”

There isn’t much you can do, watching with an amused grin as Dazai unties your shoes before dragging you to the kitchen.

“It does not take two hours to make cookie dough…” you sigh, trying to jostle the white flour from your hair. “We baked cookies together, like, two weeks ago! How could we already have forgotten everything…”

Dazai grins, planting kiss after kiss on your cheeks, melted butter staining your skin from when he accidentally tried to drink from the cup you’d used to soften it. “Hard to remember much when I’m with you.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You chuckled, grabbing a towel from the counter to wipe both your face and his lips.

“Yep!~ It’s like.. my love is so pretty I can’t think when I’m around them! Oh, I could just die in… No! I don’t even want to die! I could live in your arms, grow old together and watch you get all frail and saggy,” Dazai speaks dreamily, swooning over the idea of growing old with you. How sweet.

You push him away gently and begin balling up the chocolate chip cookie dough, pressing it onto the silver pan you made Dazai buy when you first started staying over. “Saggy? No, I’ll be young and beautiful forever,” you joke, but Dazai only nods in response.

“It’s true! No one holds a candle to my love. Why, I wish I could spend every day just staring at you.” Dazai’s voice always sounded teasing when he was with you, but even as you put the last of the cookie dough onto the tray (only had enough to fill one, since Dazai kept spilling, throwing or eating the ingredients..) you could feel the genuineness in his words.

Oven preheated, you slid the sheet in to bake (making sure to start the timer) before turning to Dazai. Before you could get a word in, the front door to your shared apartment creaked open. Heart dropping to your stomach, you grabbed the closest thing to you: a whisk your boyfriend had licked clean. Said boyfriend only seemed to sigh, falling into a more somber mood, head hanging before he sent you a sad smile.

“I think the jig is up, love…”

Your name is called from the front door, the voice… suspiciously familiar. “Are you in there? You weren’t answering your phone and I got worried...” Dazai stepped into your apartment, hanging his keys by the door before turning around (an addition you made, since he tended to forget his and jumpscare you by picking the lock every few days).

The three of you stood still, no words spoken and the only sound being that of your metal whisk dropping to the floor. Spinning from one Dazai to the next, you wiped a splotch of flour from your shirt collar. You felt guilty for some reason, like you were at fault for not recognizing an imposter Dazai, and wanted to make yourself look more presentable.

“Awww, love!” The Dazai at the door pouts, throwing his coat on the floor as he quickly heads over to you. “Are you cheating on me?” He continues, slouching over you to impose as much of his weight as he can. You struggle for a moment, his bone crushing hug enveloping more than you expected.

Guilt still apparent as your tummy twisted, you shook your head. “I didn’t— “

The other Dazai, the one wearing a black tie and covered in various cookie ingredients pouted as well. “Maybe she’s cheating on me! I mean, I can’t believe my love moved in with another man…”

God, this was too confusing. You gently pushed Dazai A off of you, stepping back from the two. “I don’t— “

“I can’t believe this… I head to work early one time and now you’re making cookies for someone else!” Dazai A whined, face smooshed against the oven door’s glass in longing. “I’ll never be on time again! In fact, I think I’ll always have to be late.”

Dazai B pulled Dazai A back towards him by his collar, whispering obnoxiously, “I’ll share the cookies if you share the beautiful partner.”

Dazai A nods in approval, eyes closed and arms crossed like it was the easiest decision to make in the world. “I want half the sheet. And, I want a kiss…” He pouts towards you. Ugh, how annoying.

You deadpan towards the two, no longer feeling guilty. These two were just as much Dazai as they could get. Arms spread, you let Dazai A pull you into a hug so you can give him a proper welcome home kiss. “Both of you are obnoxious. Is that all I’m worth? Half a sheet of cookies?”

“Half a sheet of your cookies,” Dazai B grins. “That’s not something either of us would give up lightly.” The other Dazai nods in agreement.

Both of your stupid, annoying, clingy boyfriends tug on your sleeves, forcing you over to the couch so they can both receive your affections while the cookies bake.

the timer goes off after a while but they both whine about not wanting to let u get up. once you threaten letting the cookies burn they're quick to let go. i hate them both.

[togament]

Hello ✨

How are you doing? It has been a while, since I've been so obsessed with an anime and an anime boy at that 😩 Could I ask for general romantic to naughty Headcanons for Hayato Suo with a female reader?

It would be absolutely lovely 💕 Thank you

hullo, anon! welcome welcome to the winbre fandom ✨ pull up a chair, relax and brainrot with us why wontcha?

suo is such an enigma — he’s so hard to read but he’s so… open at the same time? love him to bits tho. ok onto the romantic, sappy, filthy and sexy headcanons for our eye-patch having pretty boy.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : fem!reader, suo eaaaaats, suo's mean :c, READER BEGS, heavy on the teasing

NSFW under the cut later. so pls, MDNI ok? besitos mua.

S F W .

absolute gentleman. this man will open doors for you, hold your purse without any embarrassment, bring you 'just because' bouquets and celebratory bouquets, wine and dine you. you are absolutely a spoiled son of a gun with suo everybody around you is kinda jealous of it.

loves it when you smell him. LOOK AT HIM AND TELL ME HE DOESN'T LOOK LIKE HE SMELLS GREAT. I DARE YOU. DOUBLE DARE YOU. he rarely ever breaks a sweat in fights and on hot summer days it's weird. he finds it endearing when you lean close to him to smell his shirt or coat. (he sneaks in forehead kisses that way :)))))) ) ((he smells lightly of soap, heavy on the sandalwood incense, clove and patchouli and you can't tell me otherwise.))

has to have your hand in his at all times. no matter what. he likes teasing sakura and nirei whenever he catches them eyeing you both subtly (little shit). if you're averse to physical touch, don't fret. just having you close to him is enough.

is great at giving massages. LISTEN. have you seen his hands? HI??? your man gives you the best back rubs, can wring out the worst knots on your body like no big deal. it's almost like it comes naturally for him. soft pressure? he's got you. medium? sure. hard pressure? "are you certain, dove?" well... okay.

HEAVY ON THE ACTS OF SERVICE. he is at your beck and call 24/7. a lover, personal chef, masseuse, help and a bodyguard rolled into one. he does anything and everything for you without questioning it. he's just happy you're happy.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT.

N S F W .

absolute gentleman has a mean streak. "you're gushing all over me, dove." he coos against your skin, a nasty smirk painted across his beautiful features. his fingers expertly prodding you. fuck. he knows your body better than you do. "give me another." he adds harshly, his tone a dark contrast from his previous softness. he's pulling another orgasm from your cunt. the naughty, wet squelching reverberating through your bedroom. he loves fucking you slow but god he loves it even more when you're a quivering, fucked out mess on his fingers. his little doll.

loves it when you smell him loves smelling you. ever notice your favorite panties disappearing from your laundry hamper only to have it materialize in your closet, neatly folded? you could have sworn you didn't wash and fold it-- blame your lover. he likes stealing your used panties, holding it to his nose as he takes a deep inhale. his other hand is on his pretty cock, pumping desperately, animalistic. it doesn't even seem like it's him at that moment. when he eats you out, first thing you feel touch your cunt isn't his tongue. it's always, always his nose.

has to have his hand in his at all times has to have his fingers stuffed inside you at all times. as soon as you both are alone, he's all over you. panties slid to the side, alternating between rubbing your clit and fucking you on his slender fingers. he needs you to get a quick nut out for him before the others return -- can you manage?

is great at giving massages--and loves teasing you while doing it. "s-suo.. please..." you whimper below him while he's massaging your thighs, brushing his fingers against your cunt but just missing it by a little bit. he chuckles, his tongue darts out to wet his lips. "relax, dove. you're tensing up again." he says as he does it again, now fully rubbing your clit for a moment before pulling away abruptly. you curse under your breath. "don't tell me you want me to stop." he teases, an annoying lilt to his voice. he knows what he's doing to you.

HEAVY ON THE ACTS OF SERVICE loves giving and giving and giving. this man. THIS MAN. he loves eating pussy. and I mean LOVES eating pussy. he could bust from eating you out alone -- he's not even jacking himself off. he's soiled a couple of his pants before. you wouldn't know. he loves listening to your breathing go from soft heaves to staggered. if you wanted to ask him to eat you out, he's already on his knees before you finish your sentence. make sure you're ready to cum more than 3 times.

a/n: ehe this was fun. suo's so fun to write. he's so filthyyyyyy UGHHHHHHHHH. i hope you liked it, bbs.

[smileysuh]

Filthy

🌙 staring. Joshua & Jeonghan x afab!Reader

🔮 synopsis. There’s something long and hard rubbing against your ass, and you can’t help but pull away from Joshua to drop your favourite lawyer pickup line to the man behind you; “Is that a gavel in your pants? Or are you just happy to see me?” “Both,” Jeonghan practically purs, his mouth hot against your neck. “Think you can handle it?”

tw/cw. threesome, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, blow job, shower sex, double penetration, butt stuff, use of a judge's gavel as an anal sex toy, lube, praise, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, cock warming, fingering, hand riding, slight roleplay, beefy/size kink Joshua, polyamory, breast play, masturbation, 'full' kink, etc... I petnames. (hers) gorgeous, baby, filthy little whore.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.8k

🍭 aus. Lawyer!Jihan, polyamory, established relationship, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. the Joshua/Jeonghan pairing always does something to me, and now it can do something to you too. special thank you to @junkissed for helping me figure this fic out :)

It’s nights like these where you have to be very secure in yourself to be in a relationship with not one but two of the top lawyers in your city. Evenings spent cooking dinner in the hope they’ll be able to make it home in time to eat with you often end up with you feeling a little lonely and picking at your food, two seats empty at your table.

You have to remind yourself that this is their job, that they try their best, and when they do finally come home, you have to greet them with a smile. There’s no room for blame on nights like these. 

“Sorry we’re so late, gorgeous,” Jeonghan apologizes immediately when they arrive home, setting down his briefcase and opening his arms to pull you into an embrace. One of his hands moves up to cup your cheek, and the kiss he places on your lips lingers. “The litigation team found an entire file of information that’s applicable to the court hearing tomorrow.”

“We just spent three hours going over it,” Joshua sighs, hanging his coat up in the closet.

The younger of your boyfriends looks much more tired than Jeonghan does, but Joshua’s always had a lower tolerance for unexpected turns in cases. You know he must have been seething when they discovered the file, and your heart goes out to him.

“That sounds rough,” you say sympathetically, turning your attention to the beautiful, exhausted man. “What can I do to help?” you ask as you begin to pepper kisses along his jaw, working your way to his pretty lips. “Are you hungry?”

“We ate at the firm,” Jeonghan tells you. “Soonyoung went out and got us all burgers.”

You smile at the mention of your long time friend, he’s one of their errand boys, and it sounds like none of your close acquaintances have had a good night. Sure, a part of you deflates a little- you’d prepared their meals, and the food is still waiting for them in the kitchen, but you suppose that’s easy clean up.

“I guess you two will be wanting to go to bed,” you sigh. “You’ve both got to get up at six, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Joshua matches your exacerbated tone, and he’s frowning while looking down at you. “I know you hate it when we miss dinner.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, gently smoothing your hands along his broad chest before giving him a small pat and pulling away. “This is part of the job. I’ve got to go put the food away.”

“We should have texted you,” Jeonghan offers, “but it was a mad scramble at the firm.”

“Like I said, it’s alright,” you smile softly. “You’ve had long days, go relax, I’ll meet you in the bedroom when I’m done in the kitchen.”

With a nod, Joshua heads down the hall, but Jeonghan lingers. “I’ll help you clean up,” he tells you after a moment of consideration.

“Thank you.” 

The two of you relocate to the kitchen. It’s late, and like your boyfriends, you’re also moving a little slower than normal. 

It helps to have another set of hands, even if they’re on your hips while Jeonghan presses himself against your back. “Looks like you made a great dinner tonight, gorgeous. I’m extra sorry we missed it.”

“You really don’t have to keep apologizing,” you laugh, carefully putting the food into containers to be put in the fridge. “Besides, you can eat it tomorrow for lunch or something.”

“What would we do without you?” Jeonghan’s lips are on your neck, and the gentle kisses almost tickle, making your smile widen. 

“Eat bad food or starve?” you suggest.

Jeonghan grins against your throat. “Lucky we have you then, hmm?”

“Very lucky,” you agree. 

“Listen, I’m going to go have a shower…” Jeonghan holds you tighter, and you can feel his cock pressing against your ass through his pants. “Want to come join me?”

You push your butt back towards the horny man you call your lover, grinning at his behavior. “What about Joshua?” 

“You know Joshie likes morning showers after the gym. He won’t join us. In fact…” Jeonghan’s nose traces across your throat, his breath hot, “I bet he’s already asleep.”

“You think?”

Jeonghan hums. “He almost passed out in the car ride home. Trust me, we should let him rest.”

“We’ll have to be quiet though,” you point out. “We wouldn’t want to wake him.”

“I can be quiet,” Jeonghan smirks, “can you?” 

You love it when he challenges you like this, and you give a quick nod.

“Good,” he pulls away from your back, giving your ass a light smack. “Meet me in the bathroom, gorgeous.”

You’re just about done in the kitchen, and when you head down the hall to the guest bathroom, Jeonghan already has the shower running. 

The room is filling with steam, and his suit is neatly folded on the sink. Joshua’s forced Jeonghan into the habit of taking care of his clothes, and the sight of your wild boyfriend being neat always makes you giggle.

You’re wearing a cute little ‘housewife dress’ as Jeonghan would call it, and it’s easy enough for you to slip off. The underwear set adorning your body was one you’d chosen with the hope of someone else tearing it off, but you suppose doing it yourself before getting fucked in the shower is a decent compromise. 

Soon, you’re naked and opening the glass door to join Jeonghan in one of his favourite sex locations.

Jeonghan’s always been beautiful, but there’s something almost ethereal about the way he looks when there’s water cascading over his perfect skin. He turns as you enter, eyes scanning over your body as a smile appears on his lips. 

“Hi gorgeous,” he greets you, grabbing your waist to tug you tight to his front, capturing his cock between your bodies.

“I can’t believe you’re already hard,” you giggle, enjoying how easy it is to turn him on.

“I’ve been fighting a stiffy since lunch time when you sent me that picture of the new lingerie Joshua bought you. He might have forgotten about it and gone to sleep, but I’ve been thinking about fucking you all day.” 

“Is that so?” you tease, wrapping your arms around his shoulders while he pulls you half under the spray of warm water. “Is this what you were imagining?”

“I was imagining tag teaming you with Joshua, but when work ran late… this is exactly what I started to have in mind.”

“You like having me all to yourself, don’t you, Hannie?” 

“I’m not gonna lie,” his fingers dig into your hips, “as much as sharing you with Joshie is fun, I do enjoy having you to myself every once in a while.” 

“So now that you have me to yourself, what can I do for you, Mister Yoon?” You press your body forward, applying pressure to his cock. “I know you had such a long, hard day-”

“My day isn’t the only thing that’s long and hard,” Jeonghan smirks at you.

“I’m very aware of that, Mister Yoon. Shall I take care of it for you?” You love playing the part of sexy assistant, and he deserves it after the day he’s had.

Jeonghan lets out a groan. “Have I told you how fucking sexy you are today?”

“No, but I’d love to hear it while I suck you off, Mister Yoon,” you grin, pulling away from him so you can get down onto your knees.

“You always love being praised when you have your mouth full, isn’t that right, gorgeous?” Jeonghan’s eyes are fixed on you as you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, and his hand moves down to push your hair out of your face.

“Of course, Mister Yoon, love to be praised by you.” 

“Yeah,” Jeonghan sighs as your tongue teases the head of his cock. “I’m the good one, and Joshua always gets to be the bad one with degradation. Are you sure I can’t call you my wonderful little cockwhore?”

“I think that’s still bordering on praise, Hannie,” you grin, breaking your game of assistant to ‘Mister Yoon’ for a moment to appreciate your boyfriend. Jeonghan can never be that rough with you, and his dirty talk always includes praise, even when he’s trying to be more of an asshole.

“It’s just hard not to compliment you,” he says, groaning when you take him into your mouth. “You always feel so good.”  

With your mouth full, there’s no way to verbally respond, but the moan you let out sends a shiver of pleasure through your lover. 

“Fuck, you feel like magic, gorgeous,” Jeonghan tells you, his voice breathy. “Always so good at sucking me off- who taught you how to be so good at sucking cock?”

Technically, he did. Jeonghan’s never been one to shy away from giving you instructions on what feels best, but to be fair, it’s never taken that much for you to get him to the edge either. 

He likes it when you move your tongue along his shaft, and he goes crazy for the sounds of pleasure you make when Joshua fucks you silly while you suck on him. But Joshua’s not here tonight, so you slip your own hand between your legs, rubbing your wet pussy with eager fingers.

“I guess we’re both horny, huh? I can’t complain. We both know I love watching my gorgeous girl touch herself. I’m not sure where to focus, on your mouth, or your hand.” 

You’re not sure where to focus either. Part of you wants to lean in to blowing Jeonghan, but another part of you feels so good to be touched after so many hours being home alone. It’s clear you’ve both needed this, both needed a release, and you know it won’t be long until both of you are cumming.

“Fuck, keep doing that,” Jeonghan moans when you swirl your tongue around his cock, taking him deeper into your mouth. “Keep doing that for me, good girl, good girl.” 

You whimper at the praise, rubbing circles on your clit that have jitters of pleasure erupting through your body. 

“I’ve been wanting this all day, gorgeous,” Jeonghan tells you, hips rutting forward to push his cock deeper into the back of your throat. “I’m not going to last long, and I don’t want to be in your mouth when I cum.” 

You pull off his cock, free hand stroking his shaft while you continue to rub your pussy. You blink up at Jeonghan. “Are you going to fuck me, Mister Yoon?”

“Of course gorgeous, now stop touching that pretty pussy and stand up for me.” 

You’re on your feet not a moment later, and Jeonghan gently pushes you so your back is against the wall. He kisses you hard, one hand reaching down to hike your thigh onto his hip, spreading you open for the cock that rubs between your pussy lips.

You whimper when his length brushes by your clit, and your boyfriend smiles against your mouth. “Ready for me?” he asks. “You don’t need me to get on my knees and return the favour first?”

“Definitely not,” you say quickly, “just want you inside of me.”

“You got it, gorgeous.” 

With one quick adjustment, the head of his cock is pressing into your entrance and you’re both letting out moans of pleasure, although yours is much louder than Jeonghan’s.  

“Shh!” he reprimands you with a laugh, slapping his hand over your mouth. “Joshie’s sleeping, remember?”

Honestly, part of you had forgotten. You’d been so enraptured in Jeonghan that Joshua hadn’t even been on your mind. 

You can’t help but smile against your boyfriend’s palm, but when he thrusts into you, your eyebrows furrow and another moan slips out of you, this time it’s muffled by Jeonghan.

“Fuck you’re so wet, and I know it’s not just from the shower,” Jeonghan groans. “Who made you this wet?”

His hand makes your response almost unintelligible, but as far as you’re both concerned, it’s a clear ‘you did.’ 

The feeling of Jeonghan’s chest pressing up against your sensitive nipples, the water from the shower making you both slippery- well, it’s absolutely wonderful. You’ve always loved fucking your hotshot lawyer boyfriend in the shower, and you completely lose yourself in the pleasure he provides.

As he fucks you harder, Jeonghan gets tired of muffling your sounds with his hand, and his mouth replaces it on your lips. His tongue invades you, and the whimpers that escape you are eaten up by your boyfriend.

He’s making his own pretty sounds, and they’re music to your ears. You like to know you make Jeonghan feel good, and his moans and groans have always been a huge turn on.

He breaks your kiss much too quickly for your liking, moving his mouth to your throat. “I’m close,” he tells you, teeth dragging by your skin. “Tell me you’re close too-”

“I am,” you confirm, gripping his wet shoulders tighter as you close your eyes and rest your head back against the cold tile. “You fuck me so well, Mister Yoon.”

“Fuck,” Jeonghan moans, rutting into you even faster. “Rub your clit, want you to cum as hard as I’m about to.”

One of your hands slips between your bodies, seeking out the sensitive nub that makes your whole body tingle. “Kiss me!” you beg, needing his mouth to muffle the sounds of pleasure that are definitely going to get louder now-

Jeonghan kisses you and takes your breath away. You completely give in to the feeling of euphoria that builds in your core, and the way you moan into each other’s mouths tells you that you’re both getting closer and closer-

You know Jeonghan well enough now to know the pitch of groan he makes when he cums, and you reach your highs together, lip locked in your shower while Joshua rests in the bedroom down the hall.

Jeonghan fucks you through your orgasm, and when you’re both done, he helps you put your foot back down on the floor, steadying you with two hands. 

“You’re amazing,” he tells you, as the two of you wash your bodily fluids from your skin under the hot water.

“No, you are,” you insist. “You had a long day and you still fucked me, I wasn’t sure if I was going to get laid tonight.” 

“I live to serve,” Jeonghan teases, turning you in his arms so your back is to his chest. His lips press kisses against your shoulder. “The court case will be over soon, even though this was fun, I know you usually like more,” - and by more, he means threesomes with Joshua - “I promise we’ll make it up to you when we’re done with the trial.” 

Jeonghan always keeps his promises.

The two of you dry up and head to the bedroom wrapped in towels. 

Joshua’s laying on the mattress, under the duvet. He’s adorned in a silky sleeping shirt, part of a set you’d got him for his birthday last year. There’s a sleep mask over his eyes too, and you think he must be in dreamland-

But as you and Jeonghan tiptoe to the closet to get dressed for bed, Joshua lets out a sigh, and one word slips past his lips that makes you realize he’s been awake this whole time; “Filthy.”

You feel like a kid on Christmas morning when your boyfriends arrive back from court after the last day of their hearing. Joshua’s visibly more relaxed than he has been in weeks, and his happy expression tells you that they probably won their case, which is good news for you.

He pulls you into an embrace, cupping your face and kissing you. You can practically feel the emotion pouring out of him, his love for you, his need-

And Jeonghan’s just as eager to get a piece of you, pressing his chest up to your back and grabbing at your hips.

There’s something long and hard rubbing against your ass, and you can’t help but pull away from Joshua to drop your favourite lawyer pickup line to the man behind you; “Is that a gavel in your pants? Or are you just happy to see me?” 

“Both,” Jeonghan practically purs, his mouth hot against your neck. “Think you can handle it?” 

Joshua watches your expression, and he lets out a small chuckle at the way your eyes widen. “He’s being serious about the gavel.” It must be obvious you’re in shock. “I told him not to do this-”

“Nah, she’s going to love this,” Jeonghan insists, reaching into his pocket to pull out the little wooden hammerlike tool that judges use to maintain order in the court and make rulings. “I can use it to stretch you open, you know, get you prepped to take something bigger.”

Jeonghan rubs his cock against your ass again and you realize what he’s suggesting. 

You’re not sure how, exactly, the routine ended up being the way it is, but Joshua always ends up monopolizing on your pussy while Jeonghan fucks around with your ass. Although he’s never fucked around with your ass using a wooden gavel.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Jeonghan teases the tool along your arm. “What do you say?”

“First…” you swallow thickly, “I wanna know where you even got that thing.” You grab at the gavel and Jeonghan lets you take it, testing the weight in your hand.

“A judge owed my family a favour,” Jeonghan says simply. 

“Won’t they get in trouble?” 

The man behind you shrugs. “Gavels go missing all the time.”

“I told you she wouldn’t like it,” Joshua smirks knowingly. “We don’t have to use it if you don’t want to.”

As much as Joshua can be a bit of a dickhead in the bedroom, he still classifies himself as a gentleman in his day to day life, and giving you the space to make choices for yourself is part of that.

“It’s okay,” you assure them, taking a shaky breath. “He can use it on me… we all know Jeonghan quickly gets tired of using toys.”

“See?” Jeonghan grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I told you she’d say yes. What did you call her the other night? Filthy? I told you our filthy girl would let me use the gavel on her.” 

Joshua makes a sound of annoyance in the back of his throat. “I’m pretty sure I called you both filthy. Fucking in the shower while I was trying to sleep- I still haven’t gotten either of you back for that.”

“You’re about to get back at us now,” Jeonghan insists.

“Really?” Joshua’s brows raise. “How’s that?”

“You’re about to be balls deep in the best pussy you’ve ever had.”

“And how does that get back at you?” Joshua presses.

The man behind you shrugs, grinding against your bum. “I only get to enjoy her ass.”

The ‘gentleman’ rolls his eyes. “Key word enjoy. We both know you love her ass.” 

“Okay, I do love her ass,” Jeonghan concedes, “and if we keep talking about it instead of letting me fuck it, I’m gonna be pissed, so how about we take this to the bedroom?”

You look at Joshua, waiting for your more controlling lover to decide what comes next. 

With one final sigh, Joshua bends down and throws you over his shoulder, making you squeal and wrap your hand tighter around the gavel. You thank god for how much he’s been going to the gym before work lately- the manhandling he does always makes you wetter beyond belief, and your panties are already sticking to your core.

Jeonghan follows the two of you to the bedroom with a grin, and you find yourself shaking your head at him. “I can’t believe you brought a gavel home.”

“It’s sexy,” he insists.

“Are you sure about that?” You jokingly bring the gavel down on your hand and Jeonghan audibly moans.

“Yes, your honour, absolutely positive.” 

Joshua snickers below you, and you find yourself grinning at Jeonghan. It really doesn’t take much to get him turned on, and you should have known he’d have a thing for you being a naughty judge of sorts.

“Careful, Counsel,” you tut, using more lawyer lingo on him, “or I’ll sentence you to eating me out before you get your dick wet.”

“Sentence me then, I’m guilty, and I need to be punished.” 

You and Jeonghan release giggles, enjoying the playful banter, but Joshua doesn’t seem so impressed. He tosses you onto the bed, looking down at you with an exasperated expression. “Neither of you take law seriously.”

“We’re off the clock, Josh,” Jeonghan grins, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Lighten up a little.”

“I’m never going to be able to look at a gavel the same way again after this,” Joshua sighs.

Jeonghan’s grin only widens. “That’s the point, popping stiffies in the court room is good for your exhibitionism kink. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong.”  

“Joshua,” you lock eyes with the more stoic of your lovers, “I’ve missed you.”

The lawyer visibly relaxes, shoulders falling as he takes a deep breath. “I’ve missed you too,” he confesses, putting a knee onto the bed between your legs, hands finding the mattress on either side of your head while he presses his lips to your own.

He’s always been a fabulous kisser, and you hadn’t realized how much you’ve needed him in the past few weeks. Sure, he’s fucked you a number of times, but part of his head is always somewhere else, somewhere working.

There’s nothing in the world like having Joshua Hong’s full attention, especially when he’s pinning you beneath his large body-

“So I guess I’m just standing here and watching tonight?” Jeonghan’s voice is laced with annoyance, and Joshua matches the sentiment when he pulls his lips from your own, looking over his shoulder at his friend.

“Be patient,” Joshua snaps. “And I thought you were a vouyer, don’t tell me you’re not enjoying this.”

“Fine,” Jeonghan swings the gavel in his hand. “Maybe I’m enjoying this a little, but I’m tired from working too, and we don’t have all night.”

“We do have all night,” Joshua insists. “It’s not my fault you insisted on waking up early to eat out your precious, little miss gorgeous while I got more rest. If you’re tired you can have a nap.”

Jeonghan narrows his eyes at the man still pinning you to the bed. Then he swings the gavel again. “I’m going to go grab the lube.”

“You do that.” Joshua’s lips are back on yours a moment later, and you find yourself smiling into the kiss. 

You’ve always enjoyed their unique dynamic, the push and pull between the men who have captured your heart. If someone asked you which of the two you like better, you’d tell them it’s impossible to choose, and that’s the truth.

With your legs around Joshua’s hips, it’s as easy as ever for him to grind down against you, and you moan at the feeling. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently to work pretty sounds out of him as well.

“I need you naked,” Joshua tells you, grabbing at the pretty dress you’d worn to celebrate the closing of their high stress case. 

“Then take this off of me,” you suggest, “but please be gentle.”

Your boyfriend smirks. “Only with the dress.” His large hands smooth up your thighs, pushing the fabric up to your hips. “And these cute panties.” His fingers tug gently at the waistband of your thong, letting the material snap back against your skin before he continues lifting the dress from your body. 

Now all that stands between him and you is the set you’d worn, and he takes a moment to appreciate it. A sigh passes from between his lips, and Joshua’s eyes take in your form, hands going to caress your breasts through your bra.

“Look at our pretty little present,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your collar bone before moving down. “It would be a shame to take this off before Jeonghan sees it.”

As much as the two of your boyfriends bicker, they can still be quite considerate of each other, and it makes your panties even wetter against your core.

“Flavoured lube or regu-” Jeonghan’s returned from where you keep all your sex paraphernalia, and his question cuts off. You can tell he’s as bewitched by your bra and pantie set as Joshua is, and it makes your heart swell with pride. “Fuck, gorgeous, you look…”

“Perfect,” Joshua groans, biting at the lacey detailing of your bra. “How’d we ever get so lucky?”

“Well, I brought her around after a date and you decided you wanted in on the situation,” Jeonghan retorts, making you smile, “that’s how we got lucky.”

“I’m still not going to apologize for it,” Joshua breathes, smiling as he presses more chaste kisses to the swell of your breasts. “It’s not my fault you weren’t satisfying her.”

“Hey!” you and Jeonghan both protest, and with one harsh push at Joshua’s shoulders, he allows you to roll so you’re now on top of him.

“What?” he grins, as if he hadn’t just said anything wrong.

“You know what,” you chastise him, trailing your fingers along his chest before moving to the buttons of his shirt. “Don’t be rude.”

“Sorry, baby, you know I’m only playing.”

“So she gets an apology but I don’t?” Jeonghan tuts, approaching the bed.

“And don’t pretend you’re only playing,” you scold Joshua. “Those were fighting words.”

“Fighting words.” The man beneath you only smiles wider, but he doesn’t try to argue. 

The mattress dips as Jeonghan joins behind you, his lips seeking out your shoulder. “I brought regular lube,” he tells you, going back to the matter at hand. “Unless you want me to get the cherry one and eat your ass.”

When he’d first started saying lines like this one, you’d thought he was joking, then it had seemed something of a threat, but now, you think Jeonghan might actually want to eat your ass, something you’re not particularly interested in tonight.

“Hannie,” you sigh, ditching your task with Joshua’s shirt buttons to reach behind you and thread your fingers through your other lover’s hair. 

“What?” Jeonghan smiles against your shoulder, and you find it almost comical how he and Joshua have so many of the same mannerisms. They’re two sides of the same coin, and you’re so lucky you don’t have to ever choose head or tails.

“Just help me with my bra,” you instruct, grinding down against Joshua and feeling needy beyond belief. 

“You got it, gorgeous.” Jeonghan’s fingers undo the clasp, and the material goes slack. Two sets of hands work to pull it off your body, and then those hands are clashing to get a good grip on your boobs.

Joshua ends up grabbing your left one, and Jeonghan settles for the right. In unison, they go to pinch your nipples, and you throw your head back, releasing a moan of delight. 

“You both feel so good,” you tell them, grinding down on Joshua even harder. 

“Going to feel even better in a minute,” Jeonghan promises, “but we’ve got to get your panties off first.”

You’re in a very difficult position to follow through removing your underwear, as you’re still straddling Joshua, and you go to lift yourself up- only for Jeonghan to reach down and grab onto your thong. 

You begin to tell him off with a “Don’t-” but Jeonghan’s already tearing the flimsy fabric off your body, ruining the panties forever. 

Disappointment floods through you, and Joshua immediately sits up in an attempt to sooth you. 

“You warned me to be gentle with your clothes, but you never warned him,” Joshua reminds you, pressing a kiss to your nipple. “We’ll buy you new ones.”

“Promise?” you pout, steadying your hands on his shoulders.

“Promise,” Jeonghan confirms, reaching around you so he can cup your pussy, fingers teasing past your clit. “You just look so sexy and needy on top of Josh, I didn’t want to make any of us wait any longer.”

“That’s because you’re impatient,” Joshua reprimands him, and it’s a common statement made in your household. 

Jeonghan doesn’t even bother to defend himself, instead slipping two fingers into your wet core. “Ride my hand, gorgeous?”

You let out a frustrated groan, but do as you’re told. 

There’s something so insanely sexy about straddling Joshua while he sucks on your nipples and Jeonghan’s hand presses between your bodies, long fingers buried deep inside of you-

You swivel your hips and moans begin to slip out of you. 

When Jeonghan begins rutting against your ass, aiding you in grinding against his hand, it almost becomes too much, and you whimper loudly.

“Close already? Jeonghan asks, lips ghosting by your throat.

“I’ve missed being between you like this,” you admit, focusing on the pleasure that surges through you at being in the exact position you’ve been deprived of for a little over a week. Their schedules simply haven’t lined up lately, and it feels like heaven to finally be exactly where you’ve always wanted to be; pressed between Joshua and Jeonghan.

“That’s our filthy girl,” Joshua grins, large hand coming up to grope your breast and tease your nipple again. “You look so good like this.”

“Joshie-” you whimper, his praise going straight to your core.

“Love the way you squeeze my fingers when he talks dirty to you like this,” Jeonghan moans, licking at your sweet spot and sending a shiver up your spine. 

“Come on, baby,” Joshua encourages you, “I want you to cum while riding his hand.”

“While he sucks on your perfect nipples,” Jeonghan adds. “I’ve got such a good view.”

You’re so lucky they’re both voyeurs who enjoy watching you get pleased by each other, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling. Jeonghan continues to rut against your ass, helping you grind down on his hand while he applies more pressure to your clit with his palm.

More moans of pleasure escape you, and you can feel both men smiling at the sounds. “That’s it,” Joshua breathes, “let go for us, the quicker you cum, the quicker I can be inside you. You want me inside, right?”

“Uh huh,” you whimper, eyes closed as you work your way closer and closer-

“Just like that,” Jeonghan tells you, “you’re so perfect for us-”

It’s the final line of praise that makes the cord in your stomach snap, and you let out a gasp as you find your release. You quiver between your boyfriends, motions faltering, but Jeonghan takes over for you, thrusting his fingers into your core and rubbing at your clit to work you through your high.

All you can do is latch onto Joshua’s shoulders as an anchor and enjoy the feeling of being worshipped, the feeling of being pressed between two men who love you more than almost anything in the world. 

Some part of you is a little bitter that their work still comes first, but this is proof enough that as soon as a case is over, you get to cum too. 

As far as orgasms go, however, this is just an appetizer. Jeonghan’s fingers are great, but they’re nothing compared to having two cocks buried inside of you, and as soon as you’re done cumming, you’re pushing at Joshua’s shoulders for space.

“Lay down,” you tell him, “I need to get your dick out.”

Joshua laughs but does as he’s told, tearing his shirt off before resting back against the bed with a smile. 

“You get his dick out,” Jeonghan says, “and I’m going to lube up the handle of this gavel.”

He can be such a weirdo, but he’s your weirdo, and you love him endlessly.

You’re attention is focused on Joshua, who lifts his hips a little to help you get his pants down, and you let out a moan when his cock slaps up against his abdomen.

You’re not sure what you ever did to deserve two men with such pretty cocks, and it’s almost a shame that in this position you can’t blow him. You promise yourself to give him good head another time soon, for his benefit or your own, you’re not quite sure.

Wrapping your hand around Joshua, you guide him to your wet core. 

Sinking down on him makes you both groan loudly, and as soon as he’s inside, you collapse against his strong chest to press your lips to his.

Joshua grabs your hips, fingers digging into your skin. 

If it was just the two of you, you have no doubt he’d be fucking you already, that he’d be rutting up to meet you and helping you bounce on his cock- but you’re both highly aware of Jeonghan at your rear. 

Any time Jeonghan does butt stuff with you, Joshua settles for cock warming while his friend works you open, and it gives you lots of time to enjoy his pretty lips and the tongue that glides by your own.

“I’ve gotta say it, gorgeous,” Jeonghan sighs, “you’ve got the prettiest ass I’ve ever seen.” 

Coming from an assman like Jeonghan, it’s a huge compliment, and you always appreciate his praise. No man has ever made you feel as proud of your asshole as Jeonghan has, and it’s always a somewhat comical experience, but one you love nonetheless.

“I’m about to ruin this gavel,” the assman at your rear tells you, giving you the space to back out, but you’re much too deep in this to go back now. 

When you respond with a loud moan, still lip locked with Joshua, Jeonghan brings the lubed up tip of the handle to your hole, gently pressing it inside.

You’ve become accustomed to butt stuff while dating these two men, and the feeling is one that you’ve learned to love. Even though it’s just the first inch of the handle, slowly teasing your hole, it feels amazing to have Jeonghan working your ass open while Joshua’s buried balls deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, this looks-” Jeonghan groans, “insane. Joshie, you’re really missing out.”

Joshua only chuckles against your lips, and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about Jeonghan missing out on your pussy. 

The handle of the gavel presses deeper into your ass and you feel yourself clench around both of your intrusions. 

Joshua lets out a groan, reaching to cup your bum and spread your cheeks for his friend.

“Shit, yeah, that’s good,” Jeonghan tells you. “This looks-”

“Insane,” Joshua finishes for his friend, pulling away from your mouth to glare over your shoulder, “we know. Hurry up so I can actually start fucking her.”

“I want to play a little more though,” you can hear the pout on Jeonghan’s words. “It’s only two inches deep.”

“Hannie,” you groan. “Please-”

“Just a little more,” Jeonghan insists, pulling the gavel out of your ass only to press it back in. The feeling makes your toes curl, and Joshua lets out a grunt below you when your pussy clenches around him again.

“Fuck,” Joshua cusses, releasing one of your ass cheeks only to bring his hand down on it with a harsh slap. All three of you moan and the flash of pain makes your toes curl again. 

“Joshie-” you whimper, burying your face against his neck.

“Another?” Joshua asks, not bothering for an answer before he’s spanking you again.

Jeonghan moans. “Holy shit-” The gavel is toyed around your ass, and then it’s being removed. “Fine, have it your way.”

You feel the gavel being tossed onto the bed, and then there’s a scuffle of pants and a cap being clicked. You can hear Jeonghan lubing up his cock, and he lets out a hiss at the sensation. “Ready for me, gorgeous?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper, arching your back to make things easier for the assman behind you.

“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Joshua groans, spreading your asscheeks with two large, warm hands, “You’re both filthy.” 

“Don’t act as if you don’t love this,” Jeonghan tuts, pressing the head of his cock to your hole. The tip slips into you and you cry out, earning a soothing touch of Jeonghan’s hand over your spine. “Relax, gorgeous, this is going to feel amazing.”

It already does, but you focus on your breathing as Jeonghan slides his lubed cock deeper into your ass.

“Okay, okay,” Jeonghan swallows thickly, “let’s start to move.”

“Thank fuck,” Joshua groans, grabbing onto your hips to anchor you above him for his first real thrust-

They move in unison, and the feeling of being stuffed makes you cry out in pleasure, grabbing onto Joshua’s shoulders. 

You love how you don’t have to do anything. Pressed between Jeonghan and Joshua, you give up all control. Their push pull relationship is never more evident as it is now, and they wordlessly work together in a way that has your toes curling and your eyes clenching shut.

“Fuck, fuck-” you whimper loudly and it only makes your boyfriends laugh.

“Hang in there, gorgeous, we just started,” Jeonghan warns you.

“You’re so tight, baby,” Joshua groans, “such a filthy little whore for being stuffed.”

You kind of love it when he calls you a filthy little whore, and your pussy throbs with pleasure-

“Shit, are you going to cum?” Joshua laughs. “Our filthy little whore is going to cum already?”

“It just feels so good,” you whimper. “Feels so full-”

“That’s the way you like it,” Jeonghan says, and you can hear him smiling. Then his hand comes down on your ass and you let out a yelp, clenching again-

“Fuck-” Joshua groans loudly. “If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last either-”

“Aw,” Jeonghan teases, “is our stoic little lawyer boy going to cum already?”

“Fuck off,” Joshua growls, fingers digging into your hips while he fucks up into you even faster. 

“It was just a question,” Jeonghan insists, but you can hear his own voice faltering with effort. 

“Unlike you, I’ve been focused on the case,” the man below you argues. “Excuse me for being sensitive after not being in this perfect pussy for three days.”

“You chose sleep over fucking, not my fault,” Jeonghan retorts. 

“Please,” you groan, “stop arguing.” 

“We both know if she cums, we cum,” Joshua continues, disregarding your plea. “Don’t act like you’d be able to stop yourself-”

“Hannie-” You turn your attention to the man in your ass, hoping he’ll see reason and end this bickering, but of course he wants the last word. 

“Be patient, Joshie.” 

“Fuck,” Joshua groans loudly, bucking up into you wildly.

“I’m so close-” you whine, needing to draw their attention to you somehow. Besides, it’s the truth, and you can feel your orgasm rising in your core again-

“Shit,” Jeonghan grabs your ass roughly. “Can you hold it?”

“I don’t think so-” you admit, pressing your lips against Joshua’s throat in an effort to distract yourself.

The man under you shudders, and you know he’s just as close as you are to reaching his end. 

“Please, Hannie,” you moan desperately, “I want to be full, please fill me up, please-”

Jeonghan lets out a shaky breath, and when he speaks, his voice is near a whisper; “Order in the court.” 

“Fuck order,” Joshua says, a major statement coming from him, “cum with me baby, come on, cum with me.” 

That’s all it takes for your orgasm to take over, and you let out a strangled gasp as it slams into you. You feel yourself clamp down on both men, and Joshua moans loudly in your ear as he reaches his own high.

His hips falter ever so slightly, and you can feel him filling you up with his cum while Jeonghan releases cusses behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he’s thrown over the edge too.

Being double stuffed is one thing, but being double filled is another, and it feels like absolute heaven. If there’s ever a night to get noise complaints, it’s going to be tonight, as the sound of three people reaching cloud nine together rings through the room.

The two men fuck you until they can’t anymore, until you’re all breathing heavily and nearly overstimulated. 

You’re already collapsed against Joshua’s chest, and Jeonghan slumps down against your back, breath hot against your neck. 

The three of you lay there for a short while, trying to slow your racing hearts. Then Joshua lets out a sigh. “Did you really say ‘order in the court’ during sex?”

“Did you really say ‘fuck order’?” Jeonghan retorts.

God, you love these men.

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! the banter between Jeonghan and Joshua always gets me 😂

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🔮 preview. Maybe Joshua calling you filthy had some merit, only a filthy filthy girl would be in a situation like this. Jacking off your boyfriend, rubbing your clit under his desk while your other boyfriend hides his own cock from your friend in the doorway-

cw/ tw. exhibitionism/sex in their workplace, blowjob, masturbation, Soonyoung walks in during y/n blowing Joshua, head petting, praise, degradation, hand job, voyeurism, mentions of this not being the first time someone’s walked in on them, cum swallowing, finger licking, etc…

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.6k I teaser wc. 500

🌙 staring. Joshua & Jeonghan x afab!Reader  

bonus

You’d guessed there was a plan brewing when Joshua messaged you around lunch time to let you know he’d forgotten the meal you’d prepped for him. Out of your two boyfriends, Joshua’s not the type to forget things, least of all lunch, and especially not on a day where he’s not completely overwhelmed by a case.

It would be as easy as anything for him to send Soonyoung out to grab him food, so the fact that he’s messaged you to ask you to come down to the office tells you there will be more to your lunchour than just being an errand girl.

You don’t mind taking a trip down to the lawfirm, and you adorn yourself in a cute dress Joshua always loves fucking you in. Your makeup is simple yet pretty, and you’re confident in yourself when you walk into the tall building your boyfriends work at.

It feels nice to get a few appreciative looks as you head through the lobby, and you even run into another attorney your boyfriend’s work with in the elevator. Seungcheol does his best not to look at your chest, but you catch his gaze dipping once or twice while you make simple conversation and explain to him that “Silly Joshie forgot his lunch” which is why you’re here to visit.

Seungcheol is even so nice as to walk you to Joshua’s office, and you can’t help but think it’s an excuse to look at your ass while you walk in front of him, side stepping litigation team members and waving to your acquaintance Vernon at his desk.  

When you reach Joshua’s luxurious corner office, you and Seungcheol are both a little shocked to find both of your boyfriends inside waiting for you. Joshua and Jeonghan look just as surprised to find Cheol as your escort.

“I uh, bumped into her in the elevator,” Seungcheol explains. “Wanted to make sure she found your office alright.”

You’re all aware that you’ve been here before, you know where your boyfriend’s office is, and Joshua cocks a brow at his friend. Instead of questioning Seungcheol’s motives, however, Joshua simply nods. “Thank you for showing her the way. Is that all?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol coughs nervously, “I’ll see you both in the boardroom in an hour for our case debrief.”

“See you then,” Joshua confirms.

“Bye, Cheol,” Jeonghan lifts a few fingers to wave at his friend as he leaves you, shutting the office door firmly behind him. “Hi, gorgeous.”

“Hi, you two,” you laugh, practically skipping up to Joshua’s desk to set his lunch down and press a kiss to his lips. “Didn’t expect you both to be here.”

“Originally, I was going to try to get you alone,” Joshua admits, smiling down at you before his gaze shifts to Jeonghan. “But when he heard you were coming with lunch, he insisted on staying.”

“We all know you never ‘forget lunch,’ Joshie,” Jeonghan says simply. “I figured if there was a show going on in here, I’d want to see it. For a man who claims we’re the filthy ones, it’s awfully daring of you to invite our girlfriend to the firm to get your dick wet at lunchtime on a Tuesday.”

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Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means,  the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world. 

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp  but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.” 

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated. 

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do. 

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while. 

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is. 

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment. 

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something. 

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light. 

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate. 

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck. 

"I was just looking for.. uhh…" 

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed. 

" Shit. Sorry, let me-" 

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly. 

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-" 

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-] 

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen. 

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and  stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless. 

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples. 

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early." 

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge. 

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it. 

So naturally , you were sent to kill him. 

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer -  particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable. 

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower. 

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off. 

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside. 

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry. 

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange. 

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily. 

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?" 

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold. 

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view. 

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial. 

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.  

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought. 

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him. 

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you. 

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression. 

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-" 

He shrugs, noncommittal. 

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt. 

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile. 

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes. 

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter. 

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time. 

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. 

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?” 

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky. 

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong? 

_

_

_

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@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR 2 - ( c.s )

part one

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, kissing, that’s it i think

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: PART TWOOOOO!!!! i hope u guys like this series i’m having a lot of fun with it (and s/o to my girl @cutenote for letting me use her name). self-indulged this chapter and made the reader a flyers fan so SRY but anyways, enjoy! next thing im putting out is a matt request and then i’ll be working on this series and the tattooartist!reader x matt series. if you have other reqs, questions, confessions, etc, my inbox is open 🫶🏻

@cutenote @mattsmunch @mattybsbitch @breeloveschris @st7rnioioss

your stomach flips as you stare in the mirror, twisting and turning every which way to make sure you look alright. you’re in one of chris’s jerseys, repping the crimson and gold colors of boston university, complete with the little ‘C’ emblem for captain.

he left it in your mailbox earlier on his way to the arena, demanding that you wear it instead of the BU sweatshirt you had planned on going in. so you listened to him, even though you’re not really sure why.

your hair and makeup are all done, contrary to the last time chris saw you, when you were in his house threatening to call the cops. it feels performative, getting all dressed up for something you don’t even want to go to.

but what the hell, you hadn’t seen the team play at all this year, and if you look your best you’ll feel your best. at least, that’s what you convinced yourself would happen.

“are you done up there? we need to leave, games gonna start soon!” one of your roommates calls from the living room.

you sigh and turn away from your own reflection so you can head for the stairs. cassidy and ramona are both waiting for you on the couch as you round the corner, also decked out in BU merch.

you’re just lucky you had been able to convince them both to come with you, so you don’t have to stand by yourself.

“took you long enough.” cassidy mumbles under her breath as she stretches her legs and stands up.

mona mimicks her movements, but not without shooting her a glare. “be nice, she’s obviously nervous.”

“no i’m not!” you protest, and now they both give you an eye roll as they pass you to get their coats from the closet.

“your voice just went up ten octaves.” cass snarks.

you are anxious, but it’s just because of the unknown. you still haven’t figured out what chris is angling at, besides maybe sleeping with you, which isn’t gonna happen. well, probably not at least.

no, not ever. oh my god.

“i’m not nervous. i just wish i could back out.” you double down, turning to see them both pulling on their big winter jackets.

“you used to love hockey, you just don’t like chris. one game won’t kill you.” ramona replies.

“and you also didn’t have to agree.”

this accusation makes your face flush, in embarrassment and in denial. “he wouldn’t have stopped that party if i didn’t. and you know i could never actually call the cops.”

ramona stays silent as cass laces up her shoes. “whatever you say babe. you look cute in his jersey either way.”

“cassidy!” you whine in exasperation.

“i’m honestly not sorry.”

the entire walk to the get to the game is spent harassing you, which is a solid twenty minutes because you live off campus. ramona does try to keep it to a minimum, though you can’t really blame them for the questions. you have them too.

it’s always been weird with you and chris. you hate his attitude, how people fall to his feet like he’s some sort of god. you can’t stand the way he talks to you like he can read your mind, or how you always catch him staring at your lips just so he can pretend like he wasn’t.

he does it to every girl, and you don’t know why he’s taking all of these extra steps to try and get you into bed.

maybe because you see through it, and you don’t want any part of him. he said it himself, he doesn’t want a relationship, and you’re not looking to get an STD, so you don’t know why he’s bothering.

you finally arrive at the facility, and your stomach flips. tons of people are out tonight, of course. the sun is long gone with it being winter and all, so the lights are extra overwhelming as you step inside.

you head through security and scan your passes, ones that are specifically right beside the student section in the very front. chris gifted them to you for free since you didn’t get season tickets, right by the glass so he knows where you are.

even when you were a pain in the ass and insisted you needed two more for your roommates, he made it work. it was a little impressive.

you find your seats, and the boys are already on the ice warming up. you spot chris from the jersey number, 3, and you can see his long hair poking out from underneath his helmet.

he’s focused on taking a practice shot, but as he skates by the glass afterwards you see him looking, like he isn’t sure if you showed up. but then he finds you, and you can actually see his stupid smile.

he waves, just a tiny one, before he goes right back to drills. you’re thankful he didn’t make it dramatic, because you know there’s plenty of girls in the stands who want him, and have probably already been with him.

you each take your coats off and hang them on your chairs. you know the fact that you having his last name plastered across your back doesn’t help the attention, but people can think what they want.

you don’t give a fuck. cassidy was right, it’s cuter on you anyways.

they head into the locker room quickly after your arrival, and even more people fill in to watch the show. the student section is loud as the facility finally goes dark, and the team skates back onto the ice moments later.

spotlights flood the stadium, highlighting different players as both teams line up along the neutral zone. you cheer extra loud when they announce the starting lineup and call chris’s name, even despite your vendetta against him.

no use being a shitty fan if you’re already here.

they get ready for the face off after the national anthem, and BU gets the puck. it’s back and forth for a while, and you find yourself groaning and cheering with the rest of the crowd during every play.

the first goal of the game is scored within fifteen minutes, by one of his other roommates ben, of all people. you and your friends are jumping around like maniacs, and you can see him laughing at you guys after they’re all done celebrating on the ice.

it makes you wonder if chris told them you’d be here, but you force yourself to eat the popcorn cass bought and stop thinking about it.

the second period begins and BU keeps possession for most of it, pretty much dominating their opponent. in the final thirty seconds, chris drives down the rink to score another goal.

you throw your hands up without thinking, and you let the excitement take over. “fuck yeah!”

cassidy and ramona are screaming too, shaking you by the shoulders wildly.

he comes skating over, pointing right at you as he does a lap near the student section. heads turn, and you can literally feel people staring at you now, even despite the noise and the chaos.

but you’re alive, and you can’t get enough of this environment, so you keep cheering for him regardless of the burning feeling of eyes on you.

“that was cute.” ramona nudges you with a genuine smile, and you’re fighting your own grin as you shake your head.

“whatever.”

the rest of the game is swift. your goalie makes a couple great saves, and a guy named dylan, who you’ve met before at parties, scores the final point of the night.

it just twists the knife further, because it’s a total shutout. the fans go wild as the final buzzer sounds, and you’re right there with them. you relish in the lights, the feeling.

you really did miss watching hockey in person. and you can’t even say you necessarily hate watching chris anymore. there’s just something about the way he skates, so locked in on the game.

he’s a threat, to be completely honest, and you kind of love it.

“that was fucking crazy.” cassidy is beaming happily as you guys gather your things ten minutes post-game, and ramona nods along.

“we’re gonna have to do this more often.” she glances at you with hope.

“hey, don’t look at me. i’m in it for the free tickets, and i’m not sure how long that’ll last.” you’re lying through your teeth, because you enjoyed it just as much.

but again. who knows what he’s really trying to do here.

“you could give him the benefit of the doubt.” mona suggests dryly.

“does he really deserve it? he’s going to think he’s the shit either way.” you point out, and she goes quiet.

“maybe that’s true, but i’ve never heard of him doing whatever that celebration was with other girls.” cassidy takes over, and she’s honestly check-mated you.

it is strange, because when you watched games last season, before you had chris as your neighbor, before you even really knew of him, you hadn’t ever seen that. and from current knowledge, you’re pretty sure he had a short term girlfriend during one of those months.

“touché, i guess.” you grumble, and as if right on que your phone vibrates in your pocket.

chris

wait for me, 15 mins max

ramona and cassidy take the bus home, leaving you on your lonesome as the crowd clears out slowly but surely.

you can hear girls whispering about you as they walk by, but it’s not even worth it. you’re not scared of what they have to say. maybe when you were younger, you would have reacted, but it’s just displaced jealousy anyways.

they don’t even know the truth.

finally, after what feels like a painful amount of time, you get a text from chris with directions toward the locker rooms.

it’s far more quiet now as you make your way to the ground level of the arena, headed to the section of the rink you know is closed off to pretty much everyone else. there’s a guy standing there, dressed in his black shirt with the facility logo on it.

he goes to stop you, but chris comes strutting through the hall, out of uniform now. his brown hair is all messy, and he’s dressed down in a matching black sweat set.

“she’s cool, i have a pass for her.”

he walks right up to you, looping a red lanyard over your head. his fingertips brush the skin of your neck as he collects your hair with his hands, flipping it out from underneath the string for you.

it’s a small thing. his touch is barely there, and yet it still burns.

the security guy smiles at you as you follow chris down the hall. you’ve never been back here before, and you have to admit it’s kind of cool.

you can see where the arena workers go on and off the ice, and the large garage type doors that let the zambonis in and out.

“so.” he breaks the silence, and you almost jump at the sound of his voice.

you were in your own world, and you kind of forgot what was actually going on here.

“so.” you parrot, waiting for him to continue as he leads you around a corner.

“looked like you actually had fun for once.” chris jokes, and you shove his shoulder half-heartedly.

“shut up, i’ve always liked hockey. you though? i’m not so sure.” you give him a look and he opens his mouth like he’s shocked.

“come on, i pointed you out after my goal and everything. you’re telling me you didn’t like it even a little?”

you liked it more than you care to admit, so you don’t. “it’s gonna take more than that to impress me, christopher, but i will say it was a good game.”

“you might just be our lucky charm.” chris glances at you out of the corner of the corner of his eye as he slows to a stop in front of the locker room.

you cross your arms over your chest. “now you're just patronizing me.”

“always assuming the worst.”

“well, you make it easy.” you tease.

he pauses to look down at your defensive stance, at his jersey all scrunched up around your body, and you can tell by his smirk that he’s loving it a little too much.

you clear your throat to try and alleviate some of the tension and chris snaps out of it, turning to head through the little entryway.

“i’m gonna grab my bag, don’t go anywhere.”

“you’re my ride, dumbass.” you remind him, and you hear his chuckle reverberate against the walls as he disappears.

a few players head out as you wait, ones you don’t recognize, and they nod at you politely as they chat amongst themselves. it actually takes you by surprise, but you try not to show it.

chris comes back into the hall a minute later, bag slung around his shoulder. he’s got a black bruins beanie on now, and you raise an eyebrow instinctively.

“why are you looking at me like that?” he asks, waving his hand so you follow him further down the wide corridor.

“your hat.” you point, and he looks offended.

“what’s your problem with it?”

“not everyone who goes to school here is actually from boston, genius. i’m a flyers fan.” you smile at him sweetly, and he literally groans.

“how did i not know this?” he asks as you guys reach the door that leads to the team parking lot.

“because you don’t know me.” you reply swiftly.

chris pushes the door open and holds it for you, another move you don’t expect. “i know more than you think.”

you shiver slightly as you step past him into the cold, wrapping your coat around yourself a bit tighter.

“if it helps you sleep at night.” you chirp over your shoulder.

you know his car, a black jeep grand cherokee that you’ve always been a little jealous of, and it’s sitting in the middle of the lot. not many others are still here, and you can hear both of your feet kicking up gravel as you walk.

chris picks up his pace so he can beat you there, swinging the passenger door open before you can do it yourself.

“wow, chivalry’s not dead.” you say blankly, sliding into the seat so he can close you in.

“what can i say, i’m a real gentleman.”

the interior smells like a pine air freshener, which actually isn’t a bad touch. chris walks around so he can toss his bag in the back and get behind the wheel, starting the engine and peeling out of the spot.

it’s quiet for a moment, aside from the music, and you can’t help but peek over at him sitting across from you. the shadows accentuate his striking features as he mumbles lyrics under his breath, nodding his head along ever so slightly.

he looks pretty, and you don’t like it one bit.

“i can feel you staring at me, you know.” chris turns to glance at you for a brief moment before he puts his eyes back on the road.

it makes your palms sweat, because he caught you in the act and now there’s no shying away.

deny, deny, deny.

“just wondering why your face looks like that.”

“what, devilishly handsome?” he smirks.

“i was thinking gremlin-esque, but sure.” you deadpan, and he just shakes his head and laughs lowly.

“so scared of your own feelings. it’s cute.”

it’s a major call-out, and it normally doesn’t phase you. but tonight it’s different. he’s being so fucking strange, and it’s clearly been messing with your head.

“i’m not scared of shit, because the only thing i feel is sorry for all the girls who have actually fallen for this.” you retort, and the frustration is clear in your voice.

“other girls don’t get the princess treatment like you do.” his self-satisfied demeanor doesn’t falter for a second, even despite your low blow.

“yeah, right. i’m sure i’m really special.”

chris grips the wheel tighter as he turns onto your street, and you have to rip your eyes away from his long fingers.

“well you’re the only one who’s ever worn my jersey, so that’s something.” he admits, scratching his neck absentmindedly.

you’re not sure whether you believe it, but this time he actually does sound genuinely nervous. well, nervous for chris.

“and i wear it best too.” you brush some imaginary dust off of your shoulder as he pulls up into his driveway and puts the car in park.

“won’t argue on that one.” he shrugs, shooting you an easy grin.

“that’s surprising.”

you step back out into the crisp night air, slamming the door shut behind you. you meet chris at the front of the car and try to move around him, headed for your own place.

he takes a step to block you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “where are you going?”

you put some distance between your bodies, because he’s once again too close for comfort, and it’s hard to focus on your words when he’s inches from your face.

“home, obviously.”

“why? i thought we were going to hang out.” he frowns.

“nothing good ever happens in your house past nine p.m.”

this makes him smirk. “very good things happen in that house past nine p.m.”

“your charm is irresistible, truly.” you bite back sarcastically, maneuvering around him as you try to ignore the fire burning in your stomach.

you’ve only taken two steps before chris grabs your arm, pulling you back into his chest quickly. his other hand goes to hold the side of your face, tangling in your hair as he leans in close.

his lips ghost over yours, just barely. you can smell the cologne he must have put on after the game, can feel his slight stubble scratching your face, and it’s all too much.

you haven’t been kissed in so long, and right now it doesn’t matter that it’s chris, and that it goes against everything you stand for. your eyes flutter closed and you fill the gap, pressing your mouth against his hard.

it shocks him, so much so that he almost forgets how to do this properly. chris can taste your berry chapstick, and your lips are so much fucking softer than he even imagined.

his tongue slides against yours skillfully, deepening the kiss as he presses his body flush against yours. you can feel his thumb brushing your cheek as your mouths clash together continuously. its passionate and angry and intense, and you can’t believe it’s happening.

why is this happening?

the thought snaps you out of it, and you put your hand on his chest to force him away roughly. chris is surprised, and you’re both slack-jawed and breathing heavily as your body tries to catch up with your brain.

“i…i’m gonna go.” you mumble quietly, because you have no idea what else to say.

“or you could stay.”

“i don’t want to.”

“you’re a terrible liar.” he counters, and you can see how raw and red his lips are even in the moonlight.

you shake your head and turn toward your own front porch. it’s too hard to continue meeting his fiery gaze, because he’s looking at you like he actually needs you.

“goodnight, chris.”

“this isn’t over, you know. one day you’ll finally admit it.” he calls after you, and you don’t gratify him with a response.

there’s nothing that’ll change his mind, especially after you had actually caved in during that moment of weakness. it was so unwarranted, and you’re angry that kissing him didn’t feel as wrong as it should have.

you take the steps two at a time and hurry through the door, closing it behind you and pressing your back to the wood.

your fingers dance across your lips, and you swear you can still feel his mouth on yours.

[voyeurmunson]

Dreams: Steve Harrington Blurb

⚠️Explicit sexual content. Minors DNI⚠️

*there's no plot here. Just wanted a little Steven smut.* originally posted on my main blog which is non existent at this point 😂 thanks tumblr

***

"H-Holy shit." You pant breathlessly, looking down at Steve buried between your thighs. Steve Harrington.. The King of Hawkins High.. How the fuck did I get here? You had barely talked when you were in school. Little flirty comments here and there but now you had both graduated and somehow ended up at the same small party years later.

You're leaning against the wall in the cramped closet, your leg tossed over his shoulder. You reach down gripping his fluffy hair as he continues working you with his skillful tongue.

"Ohh. Don't stop.. Steve, please don't- fuck, baby." your fingers tighten in brown locks as you begin to rock against his face making him moan into you. You watch him carefully, this image something you've only ever seen in your dreams. And it was so much fucking better in reality.

His nose brushes against your clit over and over as you grind on his face, his tongue lapping at your soaked pussy, his fingers digging into your skin making your thighs tremble.

"I'm gonna cum. Steve, I'm so close." you whine, grinding your hips even faster, covering his face with your slick. He surprises you with a rough smack to your thigh, the action sending you over the edge.

"Y-Yes!" You cry out as your head falls back into the wooden panels, your body shaking wildly. Your thighs squeeze around his ears as your sweetness coats his face completely.

Your hips come to a stop but his tongue doesn't leave. Swirling through your cum, exploring every part of you. He moves lower, slipping his tongue into your dripping entrance, fucking it deep within you.

"I- ohh fuck." you can't form any sentence at this point. Your heart is pounding in your chest as he gives you everything you've ever wanted.

Well, almost. You still wanted to know if the rumors were true. If he was as big as they say.

He takes his time, enjoying the mess he made you make before he gently takes your leg from his shoulder, standing up. He looms over you, leaning close, his warm body pressed against yours, face shining with the evidence of your orgasm.

"You're naughtier than I thought, angel." He grins, his warm tone making you melt.

"I wanna- can I touch you?" you blurt making his grin double. Instead of speaking he grips your wrist tight, guiding your hand to his clothed cock.

You take your hand, tracing the outline of him, feeling his full length beneath your fingertips.

Fuck, he's huge.

"You gonna let me fuck you against this wall, honey? Want me to fuck you so deep? Wanna feel me in your stomach, hmm?" The dirty words coming from his soft lips make your face turn bright red.

"Please." you whisper, turning around placing your hands on the wall. You feel his lips on your neck making you sigh blissfully, his chest pressed up against you from behind.

"Ready for me, baby?"

You nod rapidly, biting your lip, hearing the splay of the zipper.

Now this.. this is my dream come true.

[dr3c0mix]

Please more poly vampires please😭🙏! I can hardly ever find x male/masc reader stuff especially about monsters😭. What happens when they take us back to their home. What's gonna happen to us? What will the townsfolk react?

Poly!Vampires x Reader Pt. 2

CW: kidnapping, silas is a freak for a brief moment

waaaaa !! so sorry this took so long !! thank you all for being so patient with me ! >w< <3

update: i mixed up garrick and silas' names im sorry im sorry its fixed now guys im so-

🌙 Its been a week since the townspeople found your house empty, your bedroom looking like something out of a mystery novel.

🌙 The bed was stained with blood and claw marks were dug deep into your bedframe with the moonlight illuminating your room through your broken window.

🌙 It looked as if you've been taken by a creature of the night, but weirdly enough, your luggage was nowhere to be found. Your closet and drawers had clothes missing and the painting you had just finished was gone.

🌙 Who could have done this?

🌙 "Garrick, it's your turn to drive!"

🌙 "Already?! Just one more minute Viktor~?"

🌙 You're being held hostage, no, hostage wasn't the right word..kidnapped? Enslaved maybe? who knows..All you know was that these..creatures..will never let you out of their sight.

🌙 You remember that night when you bore witness to their inhuman ways, they were at the foot of your bed when you took out the crucifix under your pillow and held it to Viktor, his eyes turning all red and he hissed at the holy figure.

🌙 "Ohoho! Our little mortal's smart!" Garrick grins, showing off his sharp fangs.

🌙 Silas tries to grab you but you dodge, but his long claws managed to cut your cheek, you couldn't say the same for your bedframe..

🌙 Viktor gets a hold of you and chuckles darkly at your cut, the red liquid bleeding out of it made his mouth water.

🌙 "My my~ What a fierce little minx you are my darling~" he coos with a raspy cold breath as he licks your wound. The feeling made your stomach churn and your spine shiver.

🌙 Garrick was busy making a mess of your room and stuffing your clothes in bags. Also stuffing a pair of your underwear in his shirt for himself.. "Come on you idiots! It's almost dawn!" He whisper-yells as he fiddles with the window's lock.

🌙 Silas rolls his eyes and kicks the window, breaking it and jumping through, with Garrick holding his hand.

🌙 You were confused beyond compare. Were they really gonna kidnap you?! What's gonna happen to you?! Should you scream for help?!

🌙 "I'm sorry for this Darling.." Viktor says softly before knocking you out.

🌙 Now back to the present, the 3 rode around in a caravan, a charming little wagon that doubled as a moving home of sorts. One went in front and drove while the other two looked after you or did other things.

🌙 Every escape attempt you had would end up in failure, their superhuman senses were no match for you.

🌙 "Garrick you said that 10 minutes ago!" Viktor growls at the younger vampire.

🌙 Garrick groans "Fiiiiiine!" He says before giving you one last hug and kiss and going out with a coat to shield him from the sun.

🌙 You had about 10 seconds to yourself before Viktor sits down next to you and pulls you onto his lap.

🌙 "Oh how I missed your warmth little mortal~" He purrs, kissing your neck which made you tense up in fear of his fangs. He feels your heart beat faster and smirks. "Am I making you nervous~?" He teases.

🌙 Silas comes over and smacks the dark-haired man on the head "Enough Viktor! Don't you think our precious little darling is frightened already?" he scolds before smiling down at you warmly. Viktor just rolls his eyes and buries his face into your neck.

🌙 He hands you a cup of tea and sits down across from you and Viktor "Drink up dear, mortals like you need to stay warm in the winter~"

🌙 Silas was the most respectful one out of the 3, he was always taking care of you and making sure the others didn't make you feel uncomfortable, but of course he was just as obsessive of you as they were.

🌙 Viktor is such a cuddle bug, always hugging you close every chance he gets. He'd even have the luxury to sleep with you, an activity he hasn't done in a while. He might not need to sleep, but just lying in bed with your adorable sleeping form was like being in heaven for him.

🌙 Garrick love love loves chatting with you. Rambling to you about people he's killed or jewelry he's looted off of his food weren't the best topics to talk about, but he's got no one else to talk to! And you are his darling after all!

🌙 And you could do nothing about any of it. You were treated like a glorified pet and there was no way to leave or escape of have any time for yourself..

🌙 It continued on like this until the caravan came to a stop by a small town. The weather was much colder now than it was in your hometown with rain softly pouring down from the sky.

🌙 Your heart drops, knowing what they're going to do here.

🌙 They all come off the caravan, Silas going to give the horses some food. You refused to leave the caravan in your anxiety-stricken state.

🌙 Garrick notices your nervousness and smiles, sitting next to you and putting his forehead to yours "Darling, you miss home don't you~?" he coos softly.

🌙 You nod slightly as you refuse to look at him or even move.

🌙 The vampire sighs and rests his head on your shoulder and holds your hand. "I know honey...but we won't hurt you! And besides, you don't know these people anyway! You scared we'll kill them and stuff? It's fine! We do it all the time!" He laughs. He wasn't making anything better..

🌙 "You're shit at comforting people Silas." Viktor looks at the red head with a deadpanned expression. "Oh up yours Vik!" Garrick rolls his eyes at him.

🌙 At least that made you lighten up a bit..

🌙 Garrick pulls you up from your seat and you get out of the caravan, rain hitting your face before the vampire opens up an umbrella and holds you close to him so you don't get wet.

🌙 "Its fine dear, this is the last stop before we head back to our new home~" Silas walks over and places a kiss on your cheek.

🌙 Wait..home?..

🌙 "Now gentleman! Who's hungry~?"

sorry this is a bit short ! but feel free to request or ask anything about these blorbos! i love em a lot !

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Lovely to see a 1910 Craftsman finally intact. This one is in Spokane, WA, has 6bds, 2ba, and was reduced $10K to $574,500. I also like that it has a Tudor look, as well.

Here's a small foyer with a coat closet.

Isn't this nice to see? No gray, no painted-over wood, and no walls knocked down. Look at the pocket doors on the right.

Lovely, large sitting room has Craftsman era colors, the typical beamed ceiling and fireplace.

Look at how large the dining room is. Double glass paned doors open into the room, it has the original wainscoting, and just look at this long built-in buffet. Love the ceiling, too.

What an interesting room. Two alcoves, beautiful wood and a built-in under the window. I think that this is a main floor primary bedroom.

Cute 1/2 bath with original tile.

Wow, the kitchen looks like it's barely been touched. The cabinets look original and look at the unit next to the stoves- is that an old gas heater?

Place for a table and look at the pantry. Amazing.

Love that arch.

Linen closet in the hall. So cool.

The large primary bedroom has a window seat and a fireplace.

Look at the closet. It's pretty big. Not sure what the window is for.

Apparently the window opens to this room.

Nice bedroom.

This bedroom also has a nice walk-in closet.

Nicely sized bedroom.

Original bath literally untouched.

On the way up to attic, there's more storage in the hall.

Finished attic has lots of potential.

Would make a great bowling alley.

Look at the stone foundation in the basement.

The front porch is huge.

This is nice, it looks like they have a grill out here.

Pretty yard and a cute garage.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/1515-W-9th-Ave-Spokane-WA-99204/23484765_zpid/

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 56

Warnings: non/dubcon, child endangerment, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, Andy is nasty in this, violence, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You go through the drawers and grab some clothing for Luna. Just enough without weighing you down. Then you take Luna out of the crib. She’s awake but quiet. Almost as if she senses something’s happening. You cradle her against you and move slowly through the space.

You see Andy’s body on the floor. You’re too afraid to even go near him. You reach across the bed to fish out the cell phone on the opposite nightstand. You try to unlock it but don’t know the code. Dammit.

You look down at your daughter and shudder. You lay her on the bed and take the phone. You stare down at Andy and his arm sprawled away from his body. You grit down as you bend down and lift his hand, pressing his thumb to the screen. You watch the screen flip open and you retract, staring at him, expecting him to rise and catch you in your flight.

You gather up Luna again and the extra clothes. You take her to the door as you hug her tightly and keep your other arm around the fabric, thumbing through the phone. You find the security app and after several attempts, you unlock the right door, the latch clicking back loudly.

On the other side of the door, you lock it again. It will buy you enough time. You don’t know exactly what your plan is, your mind just puts one thought in front of the other. Get dressed.

You find clothing from his dresser and pull them on. Loose but it doesn’t matter. You tie the oversized sweatpants over your hips as tight as you can. Shoes… those are another matter. You stuff the toes with socks and double up the pair on your feet. A coat over a hoodie and you should be fine. An extra pair of pants and sweater shoved into the bag you find in the bottom of the closet.

You pack up Luna’s clothes with your own, layering her in a hoodie as well before tying her around you with a sliced pillow sheet. Your work methodically through the dark, the phone your only light. You put your hand on your baby as you go to the kitchen and scour the cupboards for anything you can take with you.

That’s it. You have to go. No more time to waste. You can’t risk it. If he’s alive, if he wakes up, that door won’t stop him forever.

You near the entryway and slow. You stop at the small table and stare at the leather wallet resting next to a key dish. You pick it up and unfold it. There’s a credit card… you might be able to get a few bucks off of that before ditching it. 

You stop at the door and take a breath, the knapsack drooping on your back as you keep a hand on Luna. You flip the lock back and peer out at the night, the sky softening with the early hues of the looming morning. You step out into the world. A new world. Your world.

You’re numb as you come up to the end of the walkway and pause again at the threshold of the suburban sidewalk. You take a breath of the crisp air and shiver. You’re not cold, you’re scared but in a different way. In a freeing way.

You look down the avenue, towards Lloyd’s house, another prison you once knew. You can still go back. You can walk the half-block and just give in. No, you can’t. You won’t settle for that. You won’t let Luna live in your resent.

You turn your back on it, unsure of where you’re going. Away. Anywhere but here.

Your name stops you from taking the first step. No. Please. You should just keep going, act like you didn’t hear them but you can’t. Harlan calls you again, his footsteps shuffling across the road.

You face him as he steps up on the curb. He looks you over, his eyes fixating on your child. You press your hand firmer to her.

“I knew… I been watching,” he says darkly, “what… did you…”

“He might be dead,” you shrug, “Harlan, I’m leaving.”

He’s quiet. It’s tense and full and horrible. He lowers his head and reaches to touch the bundle around his grandchild. He nods and lifts his eyes to you.

“I know. You woulda either way,” he utters, “you’re not wrong for it.”

“Are you going to tell him?” You ask thinly.

“Nah, I won’t do that,” he says as he unzips his packet and slips his hand beneath, “you go…” he takes out his wallet as you watch dumbly. “Take this.” He hands over cash, “he can’t track that.”

“I… thank you,” you accept the money.

“You keep her safe. Yourself too,” his voice wobbles for just a moment, “I looked… I-I did. I was watching that man…”

“It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You will be. Now, you listen,” he searches in his wallet again, “you take my number. You ain’t gotta call me right away. Just me, not Dotty. The longer you wait, the better, but you let me know when you’re settled. Let me know she’s happy.” He hands over a slip of paper, “you go to the next and you buy yourself a burner. You text me and I’ll tell ya where to go.”

Your eyes tinge. Maybe you could stay. Maybe you should. 

“Don’t you start doubtin’ yourself,” he insists as he shoves the paper into your pocket.

You swallow and gulp tightly. Without a word, you step closer and stretch your arm around him, hugging him as you try not to smother Luna. She coos as you do.

“I love you, dad,” you say as you give him a squeeze.

“Love ya, too, honey,” he pats your back, “and the little one.” He pulls back and looks down at Luna as she wriggles. She’s bigger now, almost too big for the haphazard sling.

“I’ll call,” you promise.

“You’ll go. Now.” He pushes his shoulders straight and lifts his chin, glaring past you to Andy’s house, “I’ll make sure that bastard don’t follow.”

For a moment, you wonder if he means Andy or Lloyd.

You let him past, turning to watch him march up the walk of Andy's house. You don’t move until he’s inside. You reach into your pocket and pull out Andy’s phone and card. You don’t need that. You throw it into the garden and spin back to the street.

The sky brightens as you head down the street, lighting the way as if trying to illuminate the world ahead of you. You’re going to do it right this time. 

You can handle the unexpected, that doesn’t scare you. You fear falling back into the same traps as before. This time, you’re going to do it on your own. And you’re going to show your daughter how to do the same. She won’t be like you, she’ll be stronger.

🍑🍑🍑

End

[rodolfoparras]

listen, listen-

price missing his boyfriend (reader) while he’s on leave so he ends up buying a dildo and using a bit.

but then reader finds it and double penetration ensues (I know I’m kinda stealing ideas from other fics you just did I’m sorry)

-⚰️

One thing I can see is price having one singular dildo, just a thing he keeps around and uses every once a while, besides he needs it much less now that he has you

But sometimes he finds himself missing you, usually after a long day of work, or when he can’t seem to fall asleep no matter what he does

That’s when he finds himself taking his toy out before sprawling out on his mattress and slowly working the toy inside of him.

But it doesn’t feel the same, cant even reach his prostate properly, sweet thing is just huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down his body and hand aching from the uncomfortable position he’s keeping it in

So he decides to reach for his phone, dials your number, scrambles to remember what time it’s over where you’re at before you pick up the call.

Your voice is low and coated with sleep barley registering what’s happening but for him it’s enough to have heard your voice ,already feeling much happier with the toy continuously sliding inside his hole

You don’t even register what’s going on, sometimes price just has those days where conversations are kept short, so you keep blabbering on til he no longer grunts out short responses but rather whines and whimpers,and your brows furrow in confusion, conversation coming to a stop before you mutter a breathy and low “John?”

“Please, keep talking, please..”

•

He never intended for you to find it. Either way you had ended up finding it when looking for a shirt to change into. For a second, a surprised look paints your face, before confusion overthrows it until it finally sets into something more playful as you make your way over to your boyfriend.

“I see you keep yourself entertained when I’m not around “ you say and can’t help but smile at the way he turns red in the face, words falling over each other as he attempts to explain himself

He’s absolutely embarrassed, doesn’t know what you’ll think about him. Will you think it’s strange for an old man like him to keep toys in his closet? Maybe you’ll even be upset? No maybe you’ll think he’s a sex ad-

“That’s- that’s not-“

“It’s okay sweetheart “ you say voice low as you walk closer to him “you are allowed to have fun without me you know?” You say cupping his face with your free hand while the other holds onto his toy

“How about you show me how you use it when im gone hm?” You say leering down at home while stroking his cheeks

Price can already feel his cock stir, mind going hazy as he agrees to your suggestion “yes- yes sir”

“Good boy”

•

Price is sprawled out on your bed, stark naked, legs spread and cock weeping where it rests against his stomach

“It’s okay pretty, go ahead, show me how you take care of yourself”

Imagine the bashfulness, the fleeting gaze, the blush on his face as he circles the plastic cock head around his puckered rim before he sees the tent in your pants and becomes much more confident as he pushes it inside of him

[henneseyhoe]

I JUST READ THE MELO SMUT🥵🥵so good can you do another one we’re he’s obsessed with the reader like he’s always posting her and showing her love or even like him being overly obsessed and a little dark

CLOSER.

Lamelo x BLACK!FEM!reader.

WARNINGS:!!SLIGHT CNC!!, daddy kink, stalking, mentions of blood and death, k!dnapping, mentions of mental health, kn!fe play(kinda), breeding if you squint, crying(as always), reader is a tad bit delusional, no protection(wrap it before you tap it)

Ps. I feel like being a perfectionist and overthinking fucked this up for me but I can’t keep holding this damn request hostage 😩 so I hope you still enjoy this, it’s LONG lmfao.

Pss. I thought I lost this request, whole time I just had to scroll down LMFAOOO

✮✮✮✮

“Damn, girl. This like the fiftieth love note you’ve gotten this month!” Karina exclaims, looking down at the stack of notes on Y/Ns counter, the girl adding one more from today into the pile. Truthfully, Karina had been sick of seeing them, disgusted by the amount she got weekly. “Girl, stop! It’s not…maybe fortieth” Karina makes a face, side eyeing Y/N with slight scornful expression. She was more than weirded out at the creepy gestures not moving her friend even a bit. Karina on the other hand, got goosebumps even looking at the letters. They were creepy to her, and every time she read one about this mysterious person confessing their love to her bestfriend, she grew more concerned for her wellbeing. “Like that makes a difference, Y/N. You don’t find this shit kinda..weird?” Y/N shrugs, not seeing the point in looking deeper than the notes themselves. A part inside of her liked the attention she got.

“No, not really. It’s kinda sweet!”

“Sweet?! this man, woman, thing, whatever the fuck! Has been writing to you for almost five months now and has not shown their face. You don’t think that’s creepy?”

“I dunno. Maybe they shy, Karina”

“Nuh-uh. I don’t trust it, I don’t like it. What if it’s your ex?” Y/N laughs, taking her jacket off and setting it on a coat hanger in her closet before heading to her kitchen to prepare a meal, Karina following closely behind her to continue her scolding.

“You are so dramatic, you know that? Me and Jason haven’t talked in so long, I doubt it. I haven’t even seen the nigga around”

“So? Nothing about me is dramatic, I’m telling you the truth. That’s more than a secret admirer, that’s a stalker”

Y/N shrugged her off, laughing once again, and further annoying Karina with her lack of urgency to get down to the bottom of the situation at hand. “Stalker? What is this, a lifetime movie?”

“No, it’s real life. that’s why I need you to stay ready for whatever, especially with that creepy ass message your ex sent you after your breakup”

Little did she know, her friend was right all along. It wasn’t her ex, but someone who was far more demented and delusional. Lamelo had been sending eerily specific love letters to Y/N’s house for months, but had been watching her for well over a year now. Almost as soon as he saw her, his last obsession became a buried memory, Y/N now being in the forefront of his mind and sticking there like double sided tape to itself. After some time, he knew her from top to bottom, back to front, and soon, inside and out. If it was up to him, she would have always been his, but he wasn’t the best with approaching women of Y/N’s caliber. She was smart, a college student studying computer science, and none of his silly mind games that’d usually trip up other girls he was interested in would work on her. He had to up his game, and so, he set his plan in motion until he got her in the right place to sink his teeth into her.

✮✮✮✮

“Be safe, okay?”

“Yes, Karina! I won’t get murdered or chopped up over my vacation week, I promise” Y/N joked, but Karina was dead serious, finding no humor in her mess. Y/N’s smile drops, and she becomes serious, mostly so Karina would leave her alone about those ‘silly little notes’. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll be safe” she reassured, both the girls finally saying their goodbyes with a loving hug and wave. Closing the door, Y/N sighs. Karina was her bestest friend in the world, but sometimes she could be overbearing. Y/N felt maybe she needed a bit of attention since her recent breakup. She craved it, really. It didn’t matter if the attention was physical or something with a little less contact, Y/N wanted it. But, It wouldn’t go farther than that, she didn’t need a rebound.

Walking into her kitchen where she just finished preparing dinner, she began making herself a plate of spaghetti and freshly toasted bread. The smell of the food made her stomach growl. She knew if she didn’t give Karina a plate of her own before she left, she’d complain that Y/N hogged all that good food to herself. Satisfied with the plate she made, she grabbed her a fork from the dishwasher and sat down at the dining table. Taking a generous amount of pasta on her fork, her mouth watered just as she was about to send her tastebuds to food-heaven.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The girl pauses, praying whoever the hell that was would go away on their own so she could finish eating.

Knock, knock, knock.

Damn. Her lights were on, they knew she was home. She sighs, her fork lowering back down to her plate. Swallowing the saliva that had accumulated in her mouth, she unsticks herself from her comfortable seat, grumpily making her way towards the front door. Oddly, she saw no one through the frosted glass frame placed in the middle of the door, so she was forced to open it up and see what was going on.

“Hello??” She called, aggravated by how she had to leave her hot dinner just to answer the door and be met with silence. Stepping out on her porch a little, her eyes scan her yard, though nothing but darkness surrounded. Shaking her head, Y/N slams the door shut and locks it. “Stupid ass kids knockin’ on my door. One day imma stick my foot up one of they asses” She rants, walking back to her little set up. Feeling happiness again, she takes that lovely bite of food and does a little dance in her seat.

As her eating progresses, she couldn’t help but to notice her vision blurring, creating two of everything around her. Her head began to spin, and her heartbeat could be heard in her ears mid bite. She had lost her appetite completely by now, currently only focusing on not throwing up all over her table.

‘Where’s my phone?’

She could have sworn she had set it right next to her plate, but it was no where to be found now, even in her corrupted vision. Holding her head in her free hand, she gags at the sudden smell that fills her nose. It was a faint smell, but noticeable. sweet smelling, almost. Ironic for the bitter moment. Her brain told her to stand, and she followed suit, but she couldn’t stop the weakening of her knees or how slowed her breathing was getting.

Her body hit the floor with a ‘THUD’, her limbs feeling completely weighted down, and her consciousness slipping from her as she laid on the cold tiled floor, unable to move.

✮✮✮✮

There she was. Finally where Lamelo wanted her to be. He was so jittery and giddy about his successes that he could scream, but he held off on that till he was alone. His letters, fake pages, dms, and Instagram likes had finally paid off. He had her all to himself, and finally, no one was in his way. Not her colleagues, not Karina, not even her ‘crazy ass’ ex. He had gotten rid of him as soon as tension rose in their relationship. Jason hadn’t seen REAL crazy till he met Lamelo, and he made sure he knew that before his last breath.

The first time Lamelo and Jason interacted was when he witnessed their first relationship fight, which was fairly petty, but Melo didn’t see it that way. He had left a reeeal lengthy note on Jason’s dorm door, describing in step by step detail about how he would gut him like a fish, cut him up into tiny pieces and send every single bit of him off to his ‘helpless whore of a mother’, as Melo described her as. Of course Jason was shaken up, rightfully so. But obviously not shaken up enough to back off.

After not talking to Y/N since the argument, Jason appeared on her porch with that same note, tearing her a new one. He thought Karina was playing jokes on him for arguing with her bestfriend and making her cry. He took his anger out on her, yelled up a storm, and burned up the letter in his hand with his lighter, leaving it on the poor girls porch to stomp out as tears flowed from her glossed brown eyes.

Lamelo took the whole thing as a challenge. Did he really think Karina was on his level of literacy? That note was too well typed for it to be her. So, him being the man he was, made his threats come to fruition. He easily beckoned Jason into close arm reach by teasing him on his campuses basketball court as Jason was doing solo drills. Lucky for Lamelo, he trained at night.

Walking himself into the low lit court, Lamelo began taunting him, which stretched over three whole minutes. Knowing the hot head would react with physical anger, Lamelo kept a guard, and as soon as Jason tried him, Lamelo revealed the bat he held behind his back, swiftly taking a mighty swing at the man’s left leg, hitting right below his knee. Jason couldn’t have possibly seen it coming.

“Right out the park!” Lamelo continued to tease with a wide smile as if blood wasn’t splattered on his shoes. Red spilled from the back of Jason’s knee from his bone completely breaking and stabbing its way through his muscles and skin. You could have heard the snap of the bone and the sound of him hitting the floor echo through the gym, a sound Melo wanted to hear, but Jason’s loud screaming ruined getting the full effect. “I guess this is the part where I run to base” Grabbing the man by his destroyed, bloodied leg, Lamelo drags Jason off of the court as he screams bloody murder.

Lamelo instantly began regretting not bringing anything else to knock him out with without killing him, but every mastermind had slip ups. a shame somebody is gonna hear his screams and probably have nightmares about it now though. Not that Lamelo cared about either parties wellbeing, he just didn’t wanna hear his or anyone else’s mouth.

Then, in Lamelo’s basement face down, Jason continues to cry like a baby while Lamelo took a much needed drink break for the sake of his sanity, or what was left of it.

“How the fuck am I supposed to play ball now!?” Jason heaves suddenly with a quiet sob leaving his dry lips, his coffee colored hands holding his thigh as the blood spilling slowed. “You genuinely thought you were gonna get that far?”

Before Jason had time to attempt to answer, two bullets were already lodged into his skull, one exiting from between his eyebrows and one through his left eye socket.

✮✮✮✮

His daydreaming was cut short by Y/N mixing in her seat. Her consciousness had finally came back, but confusion quickly filled that space in her mind that was once occupied by unconsciousness. She looks around, not recognizing anything around her. “Look who’s up” Melo leans up from his seat in front of her, peeling off the ghostface mask he wore just for dramatic purposes. Y/N’s eyebrows knit together. “I know whatchu thinking. Where am I? Who are you? I’ll tell you all that later. But, for right now, we’re gonna celebrate” He smiles, and tosses the mask, standing from the couch he sat on.

Walking over to a small bar, he pours an unknown drink into a glass. Y/N had no idea what was going on, nor did she really care to find out. She was too worried about all the guns and knives that were laid out on the floor next to his seat. Fear pumped up her body with adrenaline, her entire being tingling. She wanted to jump out of her seat, but her arms were tied behind her back, and her ankles were tied to the chair’s own legs.

“I wanna make a toast. To a new life, and new love” He held up his glass and drunk some of the mystery liquor. Waking over to her, he holds the glass to her lips. “Drink” he instructed, Y/N shaking her head and looking away. “Why not? You think I poisoned it or somethin’?” He takes his hand and grabs her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “I wouldn’t do that to myself, so drink” he insists.

Looking back at him, her eyes trace his features, stretching down his long, tatted arms. Creepy shit aside, she thought he was cute, but she had to stay focused. “If you don’t drink, imma just force you” Y/N didn’t budge, but Lamelo had no problem with setting her straight early on. Gripping the sides of her face to make her open her mouth, he tilts her head back roughly and pours the drink into her mouth. The liquid went down smoothly, but burned her throat like hell. She didn’t drink, she never did because she got drunk easily, and Lamelo knew that.

She jerks her head away with a strong gag, tears welling up in her eyes. “I dunno if you realized yet, but I’m the one in charge, I’m the one who ain’t tied up, I’m the one that could end you like *snap* that” he threatens with a snap, but it holds no weight to him. He wasn’t gonna kill this one, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t have to. “I know you’re a smart girl, so I know you can listen. I didn’t go through all those letters to find out you can’t follow simple instructions, pretty”

Her eyes were drawn to him, anger now flickering within them like a flame in a dark room. “Letters?…You were the one writing those fuckin’ letters?” She spoke through clenched teeth. Lamelo smiles. “Surpriiiise~” he sings, gulping down the rest of the alcohol before slamming the glass down on the floor. The glass shattered into pieces, making Y/N jump at the sound. Her breathing was ragged, and pressure built up behind her eyes like a dam waiting to be cracked open.

“You’re a sick person” She spoke with distress, shaking her head. Melo shrugs with no sympathy. If he had a dollar for every time someone said that to him, he’d be a Rockefeller. “Everybody sick, I just have no problem showing mine, unlike the rest of society”

“Jesus Christ” she muttered, her head hanging low in regret. Karina was right all along, and she didn’t listen. If she did, she wouldn’t be in this position, her life in the hands of a man she didn’t even know. “Don’t act so sad. You’re gonna love me…or at least learn to. again, you’re smart”

“I don’t wanna love you. I wanna go home”

“You are home. Don’t be stupid” He spat, waltzing by her and picking up a blade from the floor, inspecting in. Y/N tenses up, Lamelo immediately noticing. He side eyes her with a slight smirk, mischief infesting his energy. “You think imma cut you, Y/N?” She kept quiet, but he continued to pry. “You think imma scar that pretty frame you got? What about this beautiful face?” He walks over to her, using the knife to swipe a box braid out of her vision. Y/N sniffles, taking a deep breath.

“Let. Me. Go”

“Or what?” Lamelo challenged, getting close to her as Y/N gave him a look, one he couldn’t make out or tell if it was anger. “You can’t do shit, I made sure. I tied you real good. Your friend thinks you went on vacation, so if you aren’t answering tomorrow, that just means you made it safe and you’re having fun. Maybe found yourself a fun fling that’s distracting that pretty mind. Somebody you invited up to your room” he continues, the tip of his knife swiftly making a cut into her gown with a quick swipe, making the thin fabric fall from the top of her body, pooling into her lap.She wanted to cover her naked body, but the rope restraints stuns her movements.

��Would you take me back to your hotel room, Y/N? I would have been a great candidate” the sadistic nature of him alone had her terrified, he could have done anything to her. She began shedding tears. She was exposed now, realizing the gown wasn’t even something she remembered wearing or buying, so he had to have put it on her himself when she was knocked out.

If he pulls the rest off, she was for sure fucked, no pun intended. He stares with no shame, the tip of his tongue grazing his plump bottom lip.

‘Fuck’

She attempts clenching her thighs together to stop the tingling, but it never subsided, and her brown nipples getting as hard as pebbles helped nothing. She wanted to keep a guard up so badly for her own safety, but the wetness coating the lips between her legs was telling her to do something else.

He notices how her legs were trying to move and her hips slowly circled, unintentionally trying to find a specific position to stimulate her clit. She couldn’t help it, she just wanted the tingling to stop. “Lemme help you wit’ that, ma” Melo smirks, putting his hand right under her soaked pussy. She stops immediately and lifts her butt as much as she can, feeling the warmth of his hand under her. She shakes her head ‘no’, but he nods a ‘yes’ and keeps his hand placed, kneeling on one knee in front of her. “Go ‘head” He says. The approval he gave her lingered in her head as the tingling intensified, giving her no choice but to fall into temptation.

Y/N hesitantly lowers herself down and begins to move against his hand, swirling, bouncing, and grinding down at the speed she wanted as her hips stuttered backwards every time his finger tips would swipe over her clit. She let out a stifled moan and threw her head back, rocking her hips faster as she felt herself climb closer to her end. Lamelo only fed her urges by bringing his hand up higher every time she’d raise her hips when the feeling got too strong, aiming to stimulate her clit through even the strongest parts of her orgasm. His dick was as hard as an iron pole in his pants now. It almost painfully pressing up against the material, the tip leaking precum just practically begging to be set free so he could fuck something, and soon it’d get its turn. Y/N could just see it through her eyelashes, she couldn’t help but look, it was so obvious.

Lamelo slides his fingers between her wet folds, collecting her slick to keep her clit wet while she used him as she pleased. “Speed up” he instructed.

✮✮✮✮

Fifteen minutes had passed and she had already came twice in the palm of his hands. Her seat was sticky and her thighs were wet, but Lamelo’s hand and arm were wetter. He slid his hand from under her and took a taste of what he had craved for so long. All of the timeless nights he had spent looking through her bedroom window, watching her feel, fuck, and taste herself, wishing he was there to catch every drop.

Feeling defeated, Y/N’s head lulls backwards as she rests her eyes on the ceiling above her. There was no other sound but the ringing frequency in her ear and the huffing of her breath trying to slow itself. She could hear her own heartbeat slowing too, just until the sound of wood creaking above them drowned the sound out. She pauses, her eyes shooting wide.

‘Who could possibly be here? could they help?’

Was what she began thinking as all the color from Lamelo’s face seemingly drained, his breath now still. Suddenly he reaches for the knife he held earlier, grabbing it from the floor and clutching it in his hand. Just in case someone had creeped down the stairs to the basement and witnessed what had been going on, he had no problem getting rid of whoever was responsible for ruining their moment.

The walking upstairs prologued, the hot tears that filled her eyes starting to flood her flushed cheeks as he placed a finger over her lips, signaling her to shut up. The cold blade of his knife pressed against the skin of her throat, so hard that she could practically feel her pulse and she was holding her breath purposely, scared the blade would cut her precious soft skin if she moved even an inch, and he cared less.

As the footsteps went away, distancing from them, he moves his hand. He lets out a much needed breath of relief and licks his lips, a smile growing on his face. “Roommate. Thought we were goners there for a second. You did good though, ma” He praises, standing from his crouching position. “I think you deserve a treat because of that”

Positioning his knife under the rope that held her feet in place, he looks up at her with a warning look before cutting both of her legs free. He walks around the chair and does her hands next, giving Y/N the room to rub her aching joints, feeling relief. Only one thought ran through her mind just then, and though she was tired from the recent back to back orgasms, she knew she only had one chance to get it right. So, she stood like a lamb taking its first steps, and took a run for it.

‘Please, please, please’

She pleaded in her head over and over again as she ran though the large basement, hoping to find an exit. Just as she had spotted a door at the end of a dark stairway, light of freedom shining through the cracks, her body jerked backwards and spun in the opposite direction, the miss placement of her sore feet being the reason why she hit the floor. The taste of iron filled her mouth from the gash on the inside of her lip, her teeth accidentally biting down on it as she went down.

She thanked god that carpet covered the floor or else she would have definitely knocked a tooth loose, and maybe lost one. “Run pretty fast for someone who’s been tied up for hours” He flipped her over so easily, prying her legs open so he could kneel between them. He admired her entire body as he held both her wrists down above her head with just one hand so he could capture them in a pair of cuffs, making sure she had no fighting chance this time. She couldn’t believe his hand was big enough to hold down both, and even with her struggling, he didn’t budge once.

✮✮✮✮

The take down was rough, but when he fucked, it was nothing like she expected. He slid his shaft along her clit, the pink bud erect and sticking out from her hood. He couldn’t stop himself from jumping against her pussy with excitement, the tip of his dick slapping the bottom of her belly with every bounce. He pulls his hips back, the tip of him now resting against her dripping entrance, ready to ruin her for the next, if Lamelo didn’t get to him first. “Stop..” She mutters, but deep down, she was really anticipating the contact.

Her sexual organs were completely against her once again, fogging her mind with thoughts of him she didn’t want and didn’t expect to have. She was forced to sit there, pondering on how he felt and how deep he could go inside of her, but she no longer had to wonder as he pushed his hips back forward to give her a taste of what she would be stuck with for the rest of her days.

He sunk into her slowly, her walls gripping him as a welcome upon entrance. He practically had to force himself inside with a drawn out sigh as Y/N sucks in air, both of them exchanging looks into their eyes before looking down at where they connected. Her stomach involuntarily sucks in, showing the bulge of his dick every time he thrusted forward with skill into her. The feeling deep down was so indescribable, so good that she almost cracked a smile. She hadn’t even noticed how much he was stretching her out, she was too busy feeling every inch of him.

Her eyes rolls back and her toes curled as she brought her legs back further for him, Lamelo smiling at how he didn’t even have to tell her to do so. He was just proud that she was learning, but she had much more to get down pact.

“Good girl…” he rasps.

“It’s so fucking deep” She whispers, her voice slightly hoarse from her throat being dry. As his hips tempo changed, the chains connected to her wrists made jingling sounds, making music with the clapping of their thighs joining in the harsher he got. He couldn’t tell if his bodies reaction to her was cause he hadn’t had sex in a long time or if she was just that damn tight. Meanwhile, YN was Lost in clouds of her own, feeling the repetitive push of Lamelo’s tip knocking against her g-spot, her own cream starting to slip out of her and drip down to her ass.

“This pussy grippin’” Melo compliments, one of his hands moving downwards to grip at the girls throat, making her tear up once again.

“Yeah? You like it?” She spoke breathlessly, the man above her nodding and laying a singular kiss on her lips, making her swoon momentarily before going back to her struggling whimpers.

“Mhmm, fuck” He moans. He never moaned, but he guessed she was changing him too.

“Call me daddy”

“Daddy!”

“Yeah, what’s my name?”

“Daddy! Fuck!”

“You so fuckin’ pretty, mamas” he groans out, almost whimpering as his dick pushed inside her further and further. She felt like he was trying to make her cervix a home for his dick with how deep he was going. Y/N began to think how they had gone too far for her to ignore how she was enjoying every bit of this. No matter how much she tried to tell her pussy to stop cumming for him, she continued, making the carpet under her soaked with her honey. Hours ago she wished her hands were untied to beat his ass, but now she wished they were uncuffed so she could trace his tattoos while he dug her out.

He was hitting spots that not even her ex man was hitting.

Using her thighs for leverage, he begins to fuck her in a push-up position, ramming his long dick directly into her coven, her walls squeezing him almost like she was showing thanks without words. Her juices made it easier for him to fuck her with no limit, slipping and sliding into her with no trouble apart from how tight she was gripping.

He didn’t hold off to cum either, he had already came twice, but he had more to give her and she had no choice but to take it. He was convinced he could imprint on her, and it was a bonus if his seed grew inside of her after all this hard work he put in. She was gonna stay with him, and he was gonna make sure of it.

✮✮✮✮

[cobaltperun]

Lost (2) - Into the nothing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.2k

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-

You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, it was actually spontaneous one, you just got done setting up the table for her birthday and she came out to her backyard with Chad keeping her eyes covered. She barely even registered all the food, she just ran over to you when he let go of her and jumped into your arms, and that was the moment Mindy captured from the side, the moment when Tara was leaning her forehead against yours and looking you in the eyes. The second one was back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.

Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.

You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.

So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught a glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.

You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.

With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.

~X~

It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.

“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it? Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.

“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.

“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.

Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.

Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy had already grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.

“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained before Wes could say anything.

“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.

“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.

“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.

No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.

“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.

There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.

Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.

“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you, as frightening as the call was going to be.

Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.

“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.

“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.

~X~

At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.

You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.

“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone, he sounded like he just stopped crying. Something was wrong, but you were still in denial.

Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”

He was wrong.

He wasn’t.

It couldn’t have happened to Tara.

It did.

The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”

Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. You just barely recognized Wes’ mom as stopped you before you could enter the hospital.

“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.

“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.

“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly, you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.

“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.

“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.

Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”

She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.

You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.

“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still and if it wasn’t for the beeping of her heart rate monitor you were sure you would have gone mad right then and there.

“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.

Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whatever did this to her.

“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.

An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara in the past four months. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.

The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.

Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, afraid even, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.

You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.

For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.

A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.

“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.

“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.

Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.

“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.

A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch.

“You promise?” she asked, a bit calmer as she stared into your eyes.

You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.

“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.

You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So, you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.

“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.

Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down, and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised, she fell asleep once again.

Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.

~X~

Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your muscular arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.

The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.

She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes, the slight furrow of your brows and a tiny scowl, you clearly weren’t comfortable like this, but she still melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.

Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.

~X~

The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.

“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.

“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.

“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.

“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back, along with a slightly mischievous smile. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.

“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.

“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.

You were with her, as if there was any way you wouldn’t be with her in this situation. And, if allowed, you were going to make sure you remained with her from now on.

A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.

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